A Light in the Dark
by Jacob AdamsIt is a rare thing for a magazine to garner the respect of more than one religious tribe. Continue Reading »
It is a rare thing for a magazine to garner the respect of more than one religious tribe. Continue Reading »
The sun is here. It is the source of the energy that runs the trains, the energy that animates my flesh and that of all those around me, the energy that runs in a circuit connecting everything living, everything moving or changing or growing. Continue Reading »
We remain committed to first principles, to voicing the truth in the midst of an increasingly relativistic and nihilistic public square. But we cannot do this without your help. Continue Reading »
Without warning, they appear, eachcluster separate from the next, goldbeads strung on strands of grass,glowing on the darkest days beneaththe fringe of summer trees, though whoknows how, or where they came from?Yet faith, not knowledge, is the sourceof hope that each bright blossom bringsalong with . . . . Continue Reading »
At Chartres, we see the stained glass windows slumpfrom centuries of gravity, becomingthicker glass at bottom than the top,like waterfalls of slow and liquid sand. In Athens, temples, sculpture, palaceshad first been painted bright as Disneyland,but when the paint was gone we strangely likedthem . . . . Continue Reading »
Let us go then, up the long stairs and down the hall,Through rooms in which a storm of air electrical Takes hold, and windows fill with light that strips awayThe darkness, . . . . Continue Reading »
One evening in the dead of winter, I went on a walk. I was on a break from graduate school visiting my parents who live away from the glare of city lights. As I was making my way that night, I looked up into the sky to locate my old friendsthose constellations of stars I had been taught to recognize as a young boy. Most of them were there that evening, quietly making their way across the heavens: the always-faithful Big Dipper, Cassiopeia in her regal splendor, and Cepheus her jealous husband. And then, suddenly, my survey of the skies was arrested by the sight of Orion the Hunter. Continue Reading »
This slender stem—the wax-imprisonedsoulof candle’s being—Ignited,starts theslowdescenttoward death;Convertingits encasing fleshto molten dropsthat hanglike tears upon a cheek,the painful priceofmaking lifemoreluminous.Until—substance spent,cylindrical shell dissolved—it . . . . Continue Reading »