by Tarunjit Singh Butalia
As a kid growing up in North India, I was thrilled whenever both my parents went out since I would have the full attention of my frail and aging grandmother.
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by Tarunjit Singh Butalia
As a kid growing up in North India, I was thrilled whenever both my parents went out since I would have the full attention of my frail and aging grandmother.
by Vicki Garlock
I often tell people that I have the easiest interfaith job in the world because I work with kids. It’s easy to assume that kids are too young to wonder about life’s “big questions,” but my experience suggests the opposite. Kids frequently have lots of thoughts about how the world came to be, about the nature of the Divine, and about how one might begin to understand and connect with the Great Mystery.
by Lucy Gellman
Sitting in a drafty, castle-like Presbyterian church on Easter Sunday with my partner’s family, I could feel anxiety bubbling up with each hymn I didn’t know. Around us, the white walls of his church stretched out toward the ceiling like long, sinister fingers. The organ struck a round note. A light wind pressed at the side door, rattling its heavy handles.
My traveling companions on the train from Rome to Milan were two extremely good-looking young couples in their late 20s and early 30s – two sisters and their husbands – on their way back home to New Jersey after a ten-day impulsive Italian vacation. They had stumbled on a travel deal too good to pass up: round trip tickets on the Emirates Airlines from New York to Milan for $480.
Like many interfaith Jewish and Christian couples, my husband and I began discussing the question of our faith years before our children were born. Because we each felt connected to our religions and wanted to share our traditions with each other, we decided to observe both. That choice has always felt right to us, even though there have been times when others did not understand our decision.