Sally Thomas

And this makes me want to cry. So does the commentary: It’s good to know that churches don’t have to remain houses of ignorance. Gives one hope for the day when all such places could be put to good use.Well, I think it’s time for a cup of tea and a nice, light, entertaining read . . . . Continue Reading »

With the emergence of Jedi as an organized religion, I can’t help wondering whether good old saints’ names, already sorely besieged by Madison, Ava, Parker and Holden, are going to find even more competition in an entirely new breed of religiously-inspired names. If the lunch-table . . . . Continue Reading »

We’ll return to our regularly-scheduled examination of the material culture of religion following this random current-events roundup: British Couple Charged in Religious Discussion. “Is God Dead?” Author Indisputably Dead Archaeologists Unearth Oldest Christian ChurchPrayer . . . . Continue Reading »

Uh . . . how about “Default is all mine?” As in, I’ve spent the last three-and-a-half hours writing a religious-news roundup post with umpteen gazillion links — and I’ve somehow managed to lose the whole thing. Totally. Completely. Poof. Into thin air. The computer has . . . . Continue Reading »

It’s a rainy day here in the Carolina foothills, and I have been out in the driveway washing the dog. What possesses a person to wash a dog in the rain? Well, I think “possesses” is the key word here, because having just finished washing a dog in the rain, I can’t really . . . . Continue Reading »

Speaking of children’s Mass sets, I can’t believe I didn’t see this, either. . . . . Continue Reading »

These saints, they are so heart-able. Take Saint Francis here, for example. Everybody hearts Saint Francis. Even people who don’t normally believe in saints heart Saint Francis so much they put statues of him in their gardens. The Humane Society especially hearts Saint Francis, and why not? . . . . Continue Reading »

As I’ve mentioned here before, this year it’s fallen to me to teach the First Communion class at church. Three weeks into the experiment, and already I’m realizing afresh what I knew going in: I am not a classroom teacher. I know how long it takes one kindergartener and one second . . . . Continue Reading »

RequiemCambridge, September 2001A payload of people phoning home:their ghost voices linger, caught on tapes,rewound, rewound, as if listening could summon themback into themselves. The last hope’ssupplanted now with clinging to a missedcall, replaying it, imagining words —but what? . . . . Continue Reading »

Welcome back to where the stuff never stops. Let’s see what we have for you nice folks tonight. Now, I’ve heard of scalping tickets . . . These faceless angels creep me out: the identity-less-ness of them is as jarring and wrongheaded as, say, an angel image with your own face, which . . . . Continue Reading »