I know that holding onto anger or resentment harms me more than it affects the perceived offender, and I know, too, that not to forgive is to practice self-righteousness and even to play God. But sometimes it is difficult to let go of these wrongs.

Many years ago, when I was a graduate student in a venerable British university, I would wander into my college’s cathedral for evensong.

Anyone who has been fortunate enough to live with a two-year-old knows that the drive towards doing it yourself begins early in life.

In "Angela’s Ashes" Frank McCourt writes vividly about his boyish fear of confessing to a priest.

The reassurance and familiarity of routines foster the growth of trust and love.

The truth about God’s mercy is this: It is a divine gift, not a human attainment.

When I was growing up, the impending arrival of Lent brought on great anxiety over what to give up — soda? chocolate? or most drastically, all sweets?

When it comes to moral and spiritual choices, there are no inconsequential decisions.

Lent is the moment — or 40 days of moments — for us to turn away from our constant and public self-curating and turn towards God.

The last Advent calendar window has been opened; the four candles on the Advent wreath have been lit; all the verses of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” have been sung.