January 15, 2010
by Patrick J. Hayes
Early one morning last summer, I walked out to the precipice of a “holy mountain.” I looked out and saw the fog lifting from an immense and undulating forest below, like incense from a thurible. I knew I was walking on holy ground and I soaked up the silence, interrupted only by the stray bird on the wing. In this sweet-smelling, bounteous setting I was a pilgrim. There at the ledge was the grave of Father Paul James Francis Wattson, founder of the Society of the Atonement, a group of friars that established themselves for the strict purpose of uniting the branches of the Christian family...
Read the reflection in full at The Living Church.
Hat tip to Mary Ann Mueller
Whose hands? - Here's a Medieval oddity which I don't think anybody has noticed. In the Statuta Antiqua, when a bishop is consecrated, "two bishops place and hold a book ...
55 minutes ago