The Wittenberg Door

“Relationships” between human beings and machines are not real relationships because machines cannot relate to the experience of living a human life.

To gaze into the eyes of a helpless baby was to see my actual condition as a creature laid bare.

Once, a very long time ago, man and woman lived in a garden and walked with God.

The 1890s gave rise to the journalistic trope, if it bleeds, it leads. And news has never been the same since.

Modernity lays at your feet hundreds if not thousands of tools to make our lives cleaner, smoother, and more efficient.

We’ve tried to make the village more hospitable to our hyper-individualistic sensibilities by vastly expanding it.

In the communities I’ve observed, there’s a new hesitation over how to respond to infants.

The greater our creations have become, the more hollow they appear in contrast to what was here before us.

Joy is a little word: three letters, one syllable. It is luminous. It is impenetrable. It is a word that offers much, if it doesn’t slip out of your hand.

The puzzle pieces lie waiting, and with guidance and help from the teacher, the wonder and joy of reading can come alive.

The stuff of ordinary creation can shine and shimmer with a supernatural radiance

They may all, in their imperfect ways, bespeak our yearning