What do you say to the woman who has lost her husband to cancer and less than six months later her son in a car accident?  What do you say in the funeral home revisited again so soon, at that moment when the pain is so raw?

It was First Communion preparation day at our parish school—a day when the classroom’s textbook material comes to life as the children bake bread, sing their special songs, make a craft for homebound parishioners, and participate in a Last Supper reflection.

A mother, desperate to offer her teenage daughter consolation could do nothing more than listen as her daughter sobbed at the kitchen table, brokenhearted that the boy she was crazy about, who had been her best friend since grade school, finally decided to ask a girl out—some other girl!

Words are inadequate to describe the Holy Spirit. Symbols include tongues of fire or a gentle dove.

I never truly understood what it meant to bear witness until I stood in a room with 250 refugees staring at me. I thought I had a better grasp of it.

Nothing succeeds better in shattering any fragile peace than an “either/or” attitude.

When my daughter was asked why she wanted to be confirmed into the Catholic faith, she answered: “Because God needs me.”

No known image of Jesus was ever carved or painted in his lifetime, and the earliest image we do have is not the crucifix or even the cross, but a shepherd with a lamb draped over his shoulders.

Have you wondered why no one in the story of Superman figures out that he and Clark Kent are the same person?

When I was a boy playing the back yards of the old neighborhood, my friend Hillel, who lived across the alley, would just stop in the middle of whatever we were playing—kick the can, red rover, whatever—and shout out, “WHO IS HAVING MORE FUN THAN WE ARE?”