Humility seeks to be hidden and takes the low road. Yet in the inscrutable gospel reality (where the last shall be first), the humble one is exalted in the end.

We call scripture the “Word of God.” That’s a grand claim. If God said it, or wrote it, such an idea carries a great deal more currency than if you or I take the credit for it.

In the scheme of our lives, too, we have many reasons to be grateful—though we don’t always focus on them. Things that are wrong and need attention take up a lot more space in our field of vision.

We might agree that love is more than a feeling. It’s more than romance. It’s more than a ring on a finger or what money can buy.

"I've got mine" can seem like a good life plan. We can extend that to "my family has theirs" or "our nation has ours" but it all comes down to the same dangerous scenario.

Liturgy is the most important catechism of the church because it's the one everyone learns just by showing up.

Because it's hard to get the whole family together in the same room these days, we can sympathize with the tension in the concluding scene of the parable about the prodigal son.

HALF MEASURES WILL never do. That is today's gospel response to the idea of the "good-enough Christian": one who basically colors inside the moral lines and meets the minimum requirements of church membership. Good-enough isn't good enough.

"UNLESS YOU BEGIN at the rock-solid, painful truth," spiritual writer William O'Malley maintains in his gloriously simple book Holiness, "you're pumping your legs like Elmer Fudd long beyond the cliff's edge."

ORGANIZER GIZMOS ARE all the rage. You can buy stackable cabinets that turn a closet or garage into a paragon of efficiency. Drop-in devices can keep your sock drawer in perfect rolled pairs so you never risk leaving the house wearing one argyle and one paisley.