Since the genesis of my divinity school career, I have spent more Sundays in the comfort of my bedroom than listening to sermons in stiff-backed pews. This routine is less rebellion than it is the setting aside of time for another important act of worship in my life: the leisurely consumption of coffee.
A remarkable book about Russian monks, published last year, reads like something from the middle of the 19th century. You feel transported back in time to the era of Russian faith that gave birth to Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. Yet, the non-fiction tales collected in "Everyday Saints" are entirely contemporary.