Despite people hoarding toilet paper as the coronavirus pandemic sweeps the globe, I see hopeful signs that suggest deep down we know we’ve not been doing right as a society. We might call these moments of Jubilee.
In a time of a national census and a deadly epidemic, a ruler who cares more about himself than the people can be dangerous. At least that’s the lesson in the biblical texts from the end of King David’s rule.
Two hundred years ago this month, the Missouri Compromise of 1820 — and the related Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854 — shaped the nation in ways that continue to haunt our politics, justice system, and even churches. And it offers critical lessons for us today.
Bob Dylan famously declared, “The times they are a-changin’.” In the world of journalism that sure feels spot on. Nearly every week another story hits about some publication going out of print or even out of business. And nearly every week it seems there’s also
Why should a person be punished because our lawmakers were slow to recognize their error? If a sentence is wrong, then it is wrong. We shouldn’t measure truth or justice by a calendar.
Daniel knew the danger of refusing an order from the king. But Daniel knew he must do what's right, regardless of the social pressures or the political consequences.
On a recent road trip, I listened to Elmer Gantry by Sinclair Lewis. I’d heard the lead character, Elmer Gantry, used as an insult about fraudulent clergy, Soon I heard something that almost caused me to swerve off the highway.
The leader stood condemned. He had acted unlawfully. He had tried to undermine the government. He had been caught. The testimony was clear, the evidence overwhelming. The only thing left was to offer punishment. But the politician bringing the verdict at the trial couldn’t do
Next week, “voting” will finally begin in the 2020 presidential election. I put voting in quote marks because it’s hard to call what happens in Iowa a vote. And having observed in person such, uh, let’s call it “candidate picking,” I also wonder if serves
During a visit in September to Auschwitz, the beauty of the place haunted me. Rows of trees popped up between the brick buildings. It looked so quaint. So normal. So not grotesque. So not evil.