For many years I had a fascination with the Catholic Church. I liked its beautiful liturgy, the formality of its worship. I was often taken with the elaborate, ornate atmosphere of their sanctuaries and cathedrals--the burning candles, the Holy Water, the Stations of the Cross, the ever present and large crucifix, the famous scenes of Jesus captured in brilliant stained glass windows, the Eucharist at the center of the altar, the burning incense, the cloistered confessionals, the priests colorful robes. I loved that they had such high regard for Mary. I was moved that they didn’t take Jesus off the Cross but left him there as a reminder of the agony and passion of his love. I liked that their priests often smoked openly and would have a drink outside the church. I related to their humanness. And I felt a kinship with their concept of the homily, the brief sermon, the message of Christ’s care for us and interest in us told in quiet words spoken in a matter of minutes. Then we ...
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