Horizons - Traditionally within the Christian community, November is a month of remembrance of the dead. Remembrance is, at its core, an act of love. What sparkles in our souls when we remember is the love of God.
La Lucha, the struggle for land ownership and water rights in Honduras continues 40 years after the disappearance of activist Jesuit priest Fr. James Carney, writes Josephite Sr. Sharon White.
Sr.. Mariana Olivo reflects on life and death, tradition and memories of the Day of the Dead, which is celebrated in Mexico between Nov. 1 and 2 to honor those who have already departed.
We as Catholics don't make exceptions for when the death penalty is acceptable. Whether requested by the individual or mandated by the state, the death penalty is — as our Catechism states — always "inadmissible."
Sr. María Elena Méndez Ochoa reflects on humble leadership, women's participation and the importance of working collaboratively to transform death into full life during the Synod of Bishops.
Horizons - Death is a painful but inescapable reality. Yet with Jesus, we need only to live in the present moment, given as a grace of God, in fidelity to God's will. Our actions will be our legacy.
During the 2022 floods in Pakistan, we Presentation Sisters listened to the grief of the people and also heard about their efforts to survive. The resilience of the people was truly amazing.
While I like the idea of learning from my predecessors, I prefer the imagery of anchors instead of pillars. Anchors allow for movement. But mine are gradually disappearing and I'm not liking it one bit.
Help us, Lord, to shift our focus from other nations like China or Russia and turn it inward to ourselves. We need to recognize the need to come together, to find common ground, and rewrite our own history.
Why does Paul seem to contradict himself when he insists that women in Corinth should have their heads covered for praying and prophesying publicly in their liturgical assemblies?
Scripture for Life: The litmus test for people of any faith and spirituality today is the measure of how deep their active compassion is for the "other" among them which also includes non-human life, the new migrants of climate change.
Catholic social teaching makes it clear: it's not enough to be a good person. It's not enough to volunteer at or donate to our local food pantry. These things are good and important and commendable. But they're not enough.
Violence has not brought about peace for over 200,000 years of the existence of the human species. Why do we think it will work today? And yet we continue to choose it, over and over again.
"Who made the sky?" "Why can't I see my eyes?" At my ripe old age, my world of wonder is still alive, but I don't think my questions are as interesting as my 4-year-old nephew's. And that's allowed.
On the morning of Sept. 17, I stood outside the temporary monastery of the Benedictine Sisters at Kylemore Abbey in Ireland. I felt a peace like I felt nowhere else. The previous days, in Rome, had been intense.
We, as followers of a God so often made manifest through collective liberation, don't have to wait for top-down change. This synodal process is a path that we are all making.
Living in "sundown towns," a visit to a cultish colony in Idaho, and an encounter with the Westboro Baptists in Kansas: These are places I've encountered examples of white Christian nationalism.
The sounds of church bells and the Muslim call to prayer five times a day remind us that even in their struggles, people in Bedouin communities in the Judean desert of the West Bank continue to rely on God.
