You repeatedly asked Me to give you boobs, which I hope you’ve figured out is kind of below My pay grade.

If one is inclined toward mysteries, mathematics can lead one to the conclusion that behind the veil of life there is a structure and an order.

I’m writing to request a one-time grant of fifty thousand dollars to aid in the creation of a new bipedal, mostly hairless, fairly bad-smelling mammal.

In “Crossroads,” bad decisions and bad faith weigh down the characters—and propel the novel to startling heights.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Then God’s boss asked Him to stay late and make the sky, too.

Jefferson revised the Gospels to make Jesus more reasonable, and lost the power of his story.

Not to be that guy, and most of this is totally not a big deal, but I just wanted to take a moment to communicate my disappointment with a few things I’ve noticed occurring at the Church lately.

For both the faithful and the doubtful, the source of religious experience can seem mysterious. One anthropologist explores belief in more mundane terms—as a form of expertise.

“This usually fixes things.”

The seven-episode comedy presents a vision of eternity as drudge work and office politics.

Do not steal money. Do not steal cattle. Do not steal focus from Amy Adams the way that Meryl did in “Doubt” and “Julie & Julia.”

Einstein had what might be called a night-sky theology, a sense of the awesomeness of the universe that even atheists and materialists feel when they gaze up at the Milky Way.

“God,” “Hitler, My Neighbor,” “Improvement,” and “A State of Freedom.”

“Bill O’Reilly is mad at me.”