Compassion Is Not An Option. It's The

If We Try To Hold On To Our Partial Glimpses Of The Divine, We Cut It Down To Our Own Size And Close Our Minds. Like It Or Nor, Our Human Experience Of Anything Or Anybody Is Always Incomplete: There Is Usually Something That Eludes Us, Some Portion Of Experience That Evades Our Grasp.

I Tremble For Our World, Where, In The Smallest Ways, We Find It Impossible, As Marshall Hodgson Enjoined, To Find Room For The Other In Our Minds. If We Cannot Accommodate A Viewpoint In A Friend Without Resorting To Unkindness, How Can We Hope To Heal The Terrible Problems Of Our Planet? I No Longer Think That Any Principle Or Opinion Is Worth Anything If It Makes You Unkind Or Intolerant.

Even Though The Discples Were Not Aware Of It, The Presence Was With Them While They Were Reviewing The Scriptures Together On The Road. Henceforth, We Will Catch Only A Fleeting Glimpse Of It -- In The Study Of Sacred Writings, In Other Human Beings, In Liturgy, And In Communion With Strangers. But These Moments Remain Us That Our Fellow Men And Women Are Themselves Sacred; There Is Something About Them Taht Is Worthy Of Absolute Reverence, Is In The Last Resort Mysterious, And We Will Always Elude Us.

I Was A Lousy Nun. I Couldn't Do It. I Couldn't Find God. It Wasn't Suitable For Me. It Is Suitable For Very Few People.

I Have Become Convinced, Through My Studies, That The Only Way To Achieve A Safe, Just And Viable World Is To Live By The Golden Rule. This Is What Drives My Writing. I Want To Point Out This Interconnectedness, Point Out The Beauty Of The Faith In All Traditions Without Exception, Show The Complexity Of The Atrocities That We Have Experienced, And Our Shared Culpability As A Species.