You walk up a flight of granite stairs to a pair great wooden doors beneath a spire rising, it seems, miles toward the heavens. The heavy door opens slowly, because of its weight, but surprisingly easily, like a perfectly balance vault door. The vestibule is dark and reverent, not grand at all. It might be the foyer of an old, downtown office building except for the small stained-glass windows. Then to the inner doors, smaller, but heavy and wooden.
What If Mass Were About God?
What If Mass Were About God?
What If Mass Were About God?
You walk up a flight of granite stairs to a pair great wooden doors beneath a spire rising, it seems, miles toward the heavens. The heavy door opens slowly, because of its weight, but surprisingly easily, like a perfectly balance vault door. The vestibule is dark and reverent, not grand at all. It might be the foyer of an old, downtown office building except for the small stained-glass windows. Then to the inner doors, smaller, but heavy and wooden.