Little angels

Have you ever seen such angelic young men? Did you notice the tiny smiles, like they know something nobody else knows? They did. They knew that the priest was a boozer that always filled the chalice just before the end of communion and, of course, drained it because consecrated wine could only be finished by a man standing in apostolic succession. He was a good old guy, though. My brother was an acolyte and I was in the choir. We got to stick out our tongues at each other up on the stage when nobody was looking, and us guys in the choir got to make snide comments about the hats that showed up at the rail on Easter Sunday. We loved going to church in those days. Smells and bells. High Episcopal. I could never figure out the bit in the Apostle’s Creed about believing in the “holy catholic Church”, though. My mother was a lapsed Catholic and very much against anything Catholic. I asked a few times and got the “you will understand this when you are older. Just say it for now.” line. There was always a candle hanging from a chain way above the stage. My mother told me that the candle was the Holy Spirit, and I took that to mean the Holy Ghost (never really got that either), and from then on I was very careful around the Ghost.
But, times change and so did Tom and I. Both lapsed into a kind of non-church mode, then into agnosticism.
I still love to go into churches and feel the spirit of history. Agnostic or not, there is something about an old cathedral or 12th century village church, complete with burials in the floors and walls or an ancient graveyard that gives me a great sense of peace and comfort. Temples too.

Image: Search brothers.