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Botswana (population 1.77 million) is a landlocked country in Southern Africa that covers an area of 600, 000 km². It is in the unusual position of being an African country that is not financially resource poor. There are ten palliative care services that are delivered by three organizations: Holy Cross Hospice, Gaborone; Ramotswa Hospice at Home; and the Light and Courage Centre, Francistown. The reimbursement and funding for services of these organizations is presented. Opioid availability and consumption are shown. The national and professional organizations include African Comprehensive HIV/AIDS Partnerships (ACHAP) and Botswana Network of AIDS Service Organizations (BONASO). The palliative care coverage between the three organizations and the palliative care workforce capacity are also reported. In addition, the history and development of hospice-palliative care in Botswana is discussed. Moreover, the chapter evaluates the political economy in this country.

This chapter focuses on Onésime Lacouture's conversion to an ascetic, mystical, and anti-intellectual prophetic Christianity in a frigid land that he would later call the White Desert of Alaska. It shows how the White Desert became an incubator for Lacouture's radical revivalist spirituality and paved the way for his belief that it was mainstreaming moderate Catholics who were the true pagans. The article first provides a background on Lacouture's early life and his romantic fixation on missionary conversions, along with his articulation of a “doctrine of samples.” It then discusses William James's Gifford Lectures at the University of Edinburgh (1901–1902), published as The Varieties of Religious Experience, and its role in Dorothy Day's interpretation of her heart's movements as she gravitated toward Catholicism. It also considers Lacouture's appointment to the Holy Cross Mission and his eventual internal transformation in the White Desert. Finally, it examines how the teachings on renunciation, asceticism, and the hierarchy of affections influenced Lacouture's practical theology.

The first section provides a synopsis of early Christian discourse on the symbolism of the cross, and emphasizes the importance of the emergence and the dissemination of the cult of the Holy Cross for the increasing public profile of the cross sign in late Roman culture from the mid-fourth century onwards. The second section overviews the appropriation of this sign by Theodosian empresses and emperors as a major imperial symbol of authority, and its rise to paramount importance for imperial culture in the course of the fifth and sixth centuries. The final section underscores beliefs in the apotropaic power of the sign of the cross as an important factor contributing to its growing popularity in late antiquity. It also points out that in this function the sign of the cross was similar to other apotropaic devices, alongside which this sign was often employed in textual amulets and ritual practices.

This chapter examines the technological transformation of the flood-damaged Holy Cross, a subdistrict of the Lower Ninth Ward neighborhood in New Orleans, after Hurricane Katrina. Using insights gleaned from science and technology studies, including a version of “laboratory studies” as developed by Bruno Latour, it considers the dynamics of Holy Cross’s remarkable post-Katrina transition from devastated neighborhood to a beacon of sustainability and green architecture. Latour’s version of laboratory studies is an applied methodological approach to track emerging technoscience innovation and transfer on-the-ground; it is demonstrative of the application of another broader theoretical and methodological approach that was also developed in part by him—actor-network theory. The chapter calls for “just sustainability” that combines traditional sustainability and environmental justice goals—in particular, “the need for distributed environmental goods and harms to all regardless of race or class”.

This chapter deals with the reason for the book’s curious subtitle: the presence of eleven Antilleans at the service held in the Warsaw church to commemorate the 150th anniversary of Fryderyk Chopin’s death in October 1999 where the composer’s heart is kept in an urn, whilst the rest of his mortal remains lie in Paris. The item which Brokken had read in a German newspaper triggered him to start writing the book based on notes he had been taking.

Following the completion of his work on Darling Lili for Blake Edwards, Hermes Pan decided to retire. He began taking yearly trips to Rome and Teheran as the guest of the Shah of Iran, spending much time in the company of Princess Shams Pahlavi, the Shah’s sister. Coming out of retirement briefly, Hermes choreographed a soup commercial for Ann Miller and Stan Freberg, staged the dances in Lost Horizon for Ross Hunter at Columbia Pictures, and returned to Rome to stage the dances in Aiutami a sognare (Help Me Dream) for Pupi Avati. Pan spends his final years enjoying the adulation of peers culminating in the Joffrey Ballet salute on 18 March 1986 where he was presented the award by Fred Astaire. Hermes Pan died on 19 September and was buried in the mausoleum of Holy Cross Cemetery.

This chapter evaluates the renewal of loyalist politics through the newly (re)formed Ulster Democratic Party (UDP) and PUP and argues that the events leading to the ceasefires in October 1994 evidenced an independent loyalism, prepared to consult widely and re-engage with traditional allies on its own terms, acting with a sense of freedom and confidence. The second section tempers this argument by considering the changing nature of loyalist violence during this period. It uses the Drumcree dispute to illustrate the powerful grip of the conservative impulses that birthed the paramilitaries. The final section considers how these two divergent manifestations of loyalism fostered a chaotic, nihilistic brand of loyalism personified by Johnny Adair, a product itself of a parallel series of engagements with right-wing extremists and global popular culture.

Burrell's life is interwoven with the University of Notre Dame, the Congregation of the Holy Cross and experience of teaching in America, Bangladesh, Israel and Uganda. Under the guidance of Lonergan, a deep relationship to the philosophical-theological approach of Aquinas acted as a preparation for the encounter with Maimonides and al-Ghazali. The importance of Jewish-Christian-Muslim engagement is exemplified by the Centre at Tantur and later by devotion to comparative theology as a vehicle for sharpening Christian theological understanding. This is drawn out by sections devoted to aspects of the theology of Trinity, Christology and Original Sin. The chapter ends with a call for intellectual humility as an essential component of the life of theology, dialogue and witness.

This chapter examines the development of building technology (especially reinforced concrete) in the 19th and 20th centuries against the backdrop of Catholic interest in technological development more broadly. While many Catholic intellectuals resisted a narrative of technological progress, some felt that modern materials needed to be appreciated and used within the Church. Catholic modernists made three interlocking claims in favor of new technologies. First, in line with their evolutionary understanding of technological and design development, they believed that new technologies were necessary because they were well adapted to the twentieth century American environment. Second, they argued that the specific properties of new building materials would enable priest and people to unite in the celebration of the Mass. And third, the use of new technologies in postwar church buildings and, further, their potential to transport the Mass to previously impossible corners of the cosmos also caused Catholic modernists to reflect on God’s sacramental presence in the world, and on their own role in enabling divine indwelling. Case studies of the Chapel of the Holy Cross, Sedona, AZ; St. Louis Priory Church, Creve Coeur, MO; and St. Patrick's, Oklahoma City.

This chapter covers the experience of Sister Resens de Insula, a thirty-seven-year-old nun at the Holy Cross convent, who captured the limitations of the sacrament of penance succinctly. It reviews how Resens has lived through the first and second mortalities, the mercenary invasions, and manifestations of the political unrest linked to the transfer of power from King Robert I of Naples to Queen Johanna I. It also looks at the turbulent decades of the fourteenth century, from 1343 to 1363, when women like Resens found that Countess Delphine’s words resonated with the people who gathered to listen at the Holy Cross convent. The chapter talks about Resens’ memory of being present when Delphine spoke divine words at the Holy Cross convent in 1351. It discusses Resens’s description of her experience, which shows that she expected not to feel doubts of conscience after completing the sacrament.

I doubt that Woody Guthrie had public lands specifically in mind when he wrote “This land is your land.” But I am sure he’d be pleased that each American citizen, through the agency of the federal government, is part owner of some six hundred million odd acres, roughly one quarter of the nation’s land. To be sure, a good deal of it would strike most of us as uninviting and not at all “made for you and me.” Guthrie couldn’t have been thinking of the Great Basin when he wrote of “the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts.” Even so, his words do fit the public lands. There we may be uplifted by natural wonders such as the Grand Canyon and what’s left of the “redwood forest.” There we are free to roam and ramble, for the signs read not “Private Property—No Trespassing” but “Please close the gate.” There, far horizons and the “endless skyway” can release us for a time from the narrowness of our lives. The federal estate is also rich in resources of a more conventional and coveted sort: timber, minerals, coal, oil, livestock forage, damsites, etc. Of course, sharing title with a couple hundred million other people would not give you or me much to say about how these lands and resources are used, even if they were managed by public referendum and not, as they are, by federal agencies. Except for weapons test sites and other military reservations, the public generally has free access to federal lands, but that does not mean that we may do whatever we like there. Private use is regulated in various ways. Rights to graze livestock, strip-mine coal, cut sawtimber, gather firewood, drill for oil, develop a ski resort, backpack into certain areas, excavate a prehistoric site, and so forth, are controlled by permit or lease, and some areas are closed to activities that some of us would dearly love to pursue. Extensive public lands and resources, whose use is governed by regulations rather than the wishes of those willing to pay most to satisfy their desires, may seem anomalous in a country ideologically committed to individual freedom, private property, and the free market.