In the past few decades, I’ve been inside a church maybe two dozen times, mostly for weddings and funerals, a few times to marvel at the soaring nave or the intricately carved chancel of a cathedral, and once or twice just to sit in silence and pray. I was brought up in a tradition that said that I belonged to the One True Church, but that never made much sense to me. My Catholicism lapsed almost 30 years ago at the age of 15. The ending began just after my confirmation, the age when parents of American teenagers tacitly agree they can no longer force their wayward children to attend Mass. It was a process laced with humor in and of itself. I remember my meeting with Father John Mikalajunas, a wonderful, kindhearted priest who was not above twisting an ear or two in order to impart moral judgment in his recalcitrant charges, but otherwise a lovely man. We sat alone in the pews of the modern, semi-circular, St. Thomas Aquinas Church on a Wednesday afternoon… full story HERE »
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