To this day, my best friends are people I grew up with on Staten Island. But I am ashamed of how some members of my community have reacted to the recent arrival of migrants.
Six years ago, for the first time, I sat face-to-face with the descendants of the 272 people my own religious order, the Jesuits, enslaved and sold 185 years ago.
When we see a spectacular athlete praying in public, we can see her as a sort of athletic Christian soldier, a “counternarrative” to a godless culture or shallow world—and miss the simple, moving experience of the athlete, who is Christian, who is praying.