For Augustine, we are made for joy. Joy is another name for the rest we find when we give ourselves over to the One who, for the joy that was set before him, gave himself for us. We find joy when we look for the satisfaction of our hungers in the Triune God who will never leave us or forsake us, when we find our enjoyment in an immortal God whose l

I was humbled by her honesty and pained by her sadness as she mourned her own body and rhythms we’d come to cherish

There are secrets we don’t know about ourselves. Why should we be surprised that even our closest friends have a kind of transcendence that eludes us, a depth we cannot plumb? Friendship makes room for the mystery of communion and the mystery behind our communion.

Arcade Fire’s song “Creature Comfort” is a chilling assessment of the extent to which the quest for attention has almost become synonymous with the conatus essendi, our reason to be.

What if the opposite of loneliness is finding ourselves together? What if friends aren’t threats or competitors but gifts?

The “wish to be feared or loved by people for no reason other than the joy derived from such power, which [he now realizes] is no joy at all. It is a wretched life.” It is the sort of life that hollows you out, sucking every ounce of your energy to the surface to maintain the veneer that captures attention. Indeed, we’re prone in this idolatry to m

“No he did not,” Dunham retorts. “He did,” Karr assures her. She reflects on the experience: “I was so glad that I had turned it off. I got to help him to feel a little better or whatever, feel like he had some agency in the world. What did that cost me? Do you know what I mean? For me, a lot of times I walk into Mass and I look at people and I thi

The city of God as tent city, as refugee camp, speaks to the vulnerability and risk of the life of faith, bringing out an essential aspect of Augustine’s understanding of our journey.

What do I love when I long for achievement? That is the Augustinian question.