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Yesterday, I stopped by a local Starbucks for a hot coffee. Outside the store sat a homeless man asking for money and food. I was struck by his appearance—his sad eyes and shivering body, his look of quiet desperation. I went inside to order and, while waiting, noticed three young Dominican friars outside approach the man. They stood over him and prayed, then came inside for their coffees and pastries. I must confess, I felt annoyed. These clean-shaven, white-robed friars had offered nothing more than a prayer over a desperate human being. But then I caught myself. Who was I to judge what passed between them? Perhaps they would return. Perhaps their prayer meant more to the homeless man than...