
Having emerged from the bowels of Hell, Dante and his guide find themselves upon the shores of the fresh and uncharted territory of Purgatory, a mountain surrounded by sea and pure air free from the stench and darkness of the Inferno. From the opening lines of Purgatorio, the poet distinguishes this place as God-graced: the…

As a student devoted to the intersection of theology and literature I’m always assessing ways in which literature accomplishes theological work and how theological thought appears in literary form. Most often these points of conversion occur by means of metaphor. To refresh your memory, metaphor is a kind of comparison in which one thing is…

Our imaginings of the afterlife often include getting answers to questions the knowledge and experience of the world couldn’t answer. Likewise, the pilgrim of Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy seeks out heavenly wisdom to satisfy his own burning question: How is God just if people who never received knowledge of Christ’s salvation or the opportunity for…

My folks have been consistently involved in a small local church in Orange County for decades. Last year, the pastor gave notice of his retirement and so the elder board, associate pastor, and a few others came together to begin forming a “Search Committee.” As a small group they would assess the needs of the…

Over the last few weeks I’ve had some time to reflect over the year. Its incredible how much everything has changed. Within the span of 365 days I’ve experienced moments of joy and celebration as well as grief and disappointment. Some transitions have been emotionally disruptive while others have been methodical and tedious. Some have…

Father Brown, a delightful gift of G. K. Chesterton’s imagination (and not to be mistaken with the clever Encyclopedia Brown), is an unassuming genius in a clerical collar with an old ordinary umbrella who at one point in his life was able to summarize any page of St. Thomas’ Summa Theologica. Although Father Brown is…

There are so many weddings in June. The arrival of the long-expected day and the celebration of unity contains, in part, a kind of poetic enchantment that lingers like the small flames of tea lights on the banquet tables. I taste, if just for an evening, a sip of greater beauty. Then I drive home, change…

I was six years old. It was “fellowship time” at church after the morning service before Sunday school. The kids congregated out on the lawn with a somewhat flat and worn rubber ball for the weekly game of kickball. I was never particularly fond of games, but my older cousin was especially good at kickball…