It’s a pleasant sign of aging when people you knew as children grow up and start offering the world their gifts. Here is a chant of Psalm 132 written by a young man whose birth I remember and who I still remember as a little boy (not having seen him since we moved away, though his parents remain good friends).
The Classroom Heals the Wounds of Generations
“Hope,” wrote the German-American polymath Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy, “is the deity of youth.” Wholly dependent on adults, children…
Still Life, Still Sacred
Renaissance painters would use life-sized wooden dolls called manichini to study how drapery folds on the human…
Letters
I am writing not to address any particular article, but rather to register my concern about the…