Feeding people is an act of holy resistance. As forced starvation and a prolonged humanitarian blockade in Gaza reach catastrophic and irreversible levels, I find myself grieving, raging, and praying a lot about food: its necessity for survival, and its power to sustain and inspire our collective flourishing. As I hold the weight of these…
It is surprisingly easy to forget the wounds of the past, especially as a person of privilege. Last year, I took a course at Catholic Theological Union called “The Racial Justice Pilgrimage.” As part of the class, we journeyed to sacred sites of the Civil Rights Movement in Birmingham, Selma, and Montgomery, Alabama. These were…
Marigolds have unexpectedly become a symbol of hope for me in this bleak moment where we find ourselves, as a church and as a country. Our little backyard garden didn’t do anything right this summer. Well, almost anything. For years, our little raised beds would generate pounds of tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini, garlic, and peppers. Our…
