Bishop Robert Barron

There is a curious and intriguing passage in the third chapter of St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, which in the context of the missive seems almost tossed-off, but which has proven to be a cornerstone of Catholic moral theology for the past two thousand years

One silver lining for me during this weird coronavirus shutdown has been the opportunity to return to some writing projects that I had left on the back-burner.

Last week, Andrew Cuomo, the governor of New York, made a rather interesting theological observation.

Tragedy sparks an awareness of contingency, and an awareness of contingency gives rise to a deeper sense of God.

Blaise Pascal said, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

The three classical spiritual practices that the Church urges us to embrace during Lent are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. I would strongly encourage every one of my readers to follow this recommendation, perhaps intensifying each one of the three during the holy season. But there is another Lenten discipline that I would like to put forward, inspired very much by the Gospel readings this week: forgiving an enemy.

Some years ago, my friend Msgr. Francis Mannion wrote an article concerning the three essential features of the Eucharistic liturgy—namely, the priest, the rite, and the people.

The new and much-ballyhooed Netflix film The Two Popes should, by rights, be called The One Pope

I am sure that every religious person, every believer in God, at some point wonders, “Why doesn’t God just straighten everything out?”

“to live is to change and to be perfect is to have changed often.”