In an era when it is becoming clear that industrialized nations under a system of global corporation-controlled capitalism need to change quickly and dramatically for the benefit of all life, we will be called to experience generosity, gratitude, and hope in new ways.

I look up and experience her music as a Beatitude of Peace, a feathery sonnet that rings of grace and hope...

There in the deep sack of night, a tiny Hope was born. 

Fear not, the angels would text me. Hallelujah, I’d write back.

What’s your most memorable story about getting lost? What do you remember about finding your way home?

Can we enfold other people in the way we long to be enfolded?

Our family secret is soul-sucking depression.

People of faith are experts in human kindness.

We have a holy obligation to bring about paradise on this earth; each generation helps us do that.

May we be with one another in solidarity and struggle.

The stories remind us there is still and always joy in this world, but it usually comes right alongside the struggle.

This year, the Advent season seems particularly seized by a spirit of the expected, the longing.

Advent is about the new story being written in our lives.

I hope that this Great Silence, which has come alongside the suffering, holds the beginnings of our healing.

See how the winds have shaped her hands to hold hope? So tenuous, it trembles like a hummingbird’s heart. She gently carries hope to a nest in the midst of the maelstrom and tilts it into the bowl of tiny feathers and mosses. Hope is so hard to cup. She might need your help when it seeps through...

Hope rises. It rises from the heart of life, here and now, beating with joy and sorrow. Hope longs. It longs for good to be affirmed, for justice and love to prevail, for suffering to be alleviated, and for life to flourish in peace. Hope remembers. It remembers the dreams of those who have gone...

Jesus had no political power. He lived his whole life in the shadow of the Roman empire, and that empire killed him. Yet Jesus healed the sick, he listened, he moved among the ordinary people, in the lowly places.

I’m confident in our human ability to together muscle our way into renewing our world.

Here I am, God, here I am. Here I am with the dishes in the sink, the dust on the shelves, the skin on my hands which is drying out and starting to crack. My appetite has gone, without any other bodies to remind my body of itself. I can pray for salvation but my bones know this is all there is....

We are never numbers to be tallied for turnout. We are more than a sum. Together, we are the hope and courage.