On the Blog
In a season filled with joy and angst, reflections on rethinking tradition, being a light for others, and wading through the giving conundrum. Plus, a map that will suck you in for hours, a reflection on the courage to hope in the face of despair, and a call to embrace others' truths over being right.
On night six of Hanukkah, poet Esther Cohen and photographer Matthew Septimus light a candle to the woman who lives fully and dances with the valleys.
Darkness draws out our deep-down depths. And, in the northern hemisphere, December’s darkness invites us inward. A lesson in wonder, an elegy for light, and a call to pay attention for the unbroken darkness of a December night.
Night five of our series. A poem inspired by a Harlem church experience by a secular Jew paired with a Septimus photo.
Krista Tippett on not playing the Christmas game of obligatory gift-giving and the redemptive human need for one another.
Our photo-poem for this Hanukkah evening, a reflection on the sacred ordinariness of holy people and holy places — even at a supermarket in upstate New York.
The end of year is fast approaching. And with that comes an influx of charitable giving. In this digital age when the basket is now an online form, how do we create a spiritual practice of tithing and discern the "right" way to give?
"People prefer winners and losers. Maccabees rising against Greeks." The third photo-poem in our series from Matthew Septimus and Esther Cohen on the stories of success we tell each other.
A prayer for the poet who doesn't pray. The second in an eight-part series from a photographer and a poet exploring the sacred in the mundane.
In a world of fomenting darkness, a poem calls us to be beacons of light in the shadow for others to be guided by.
The first of eight vignettes by photographer Matthew Septimus and poet Esther Cohen on holy people and holy places that transcend the ordinary.
A brother contemplates the loss of his sister to cancer, the place where she searched for home, and the stories that rise up within him.
From vignettes pondering time and sci-fi holiday singing to impassioned calls for community, a look into our most interesting worlds of curiosity and hope.
A tribute to the children and adults who died in the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School honored with a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye. A list we must return to and remember out of love and hope for a safer world.
After hearing Nobel laureate Malala Yousafzai on the radio, a middle-aged woman from the Midwest reflects on her own life and the courage to choose hope in the face of despair.
Lennon Flowers and Carla Fernandez are creating a national movement of dinner parties for 20-30 year olds that are humanizing grief and creating new communities after loss.
It’s not merely a sin-sick soul that is in need of profound redemption, writes our columnist, it is also our society and structural institutions that call out for being redeemed and transformed. A clear call to question, connect, and transform ourselves and our institutions.
Just when you think the holiday season couldn't get any merrier, a Star Trek captain remakes a Christmas classic.
For the introverts in us, winter can be a time of reflection to assess and remember our own inner truths. Includes a poem by David Whyte.
A letter from Einstein on the "Negro question" is rediscovered and essays on white privilege and the theology of Ferguson are complemented with ideas about opening up to hope and ourselves.
“Our genome sequence is the genetic blueprint of our biological self but how much does it, or will we let it, define who we are?” A journalist seeks to reconcile questions of mystery with questions of genetics.
In a culture of curated sharing, the intimacy of human touch can be daunting — even for a pastor. An essay on how the practice of laying on of hands is a quiet and necessary rite that ought to become part of our story again.
With the overwhelming angst of privilege, our columnist confesses to her own inclinations to participate in Twitter testimonies of white privilege. But, it's no substitute for the moral imagination required to acknowledge the emotional lives of others.
We build all sorts of enclosures to protect us and keep our loved ones safe from harm. But in column in poetical form, we are tasked with being vulnerable and opening those gates.