I can get as nostalgic as the next ex-seminarian about the worship we experienced at St. Joseph Abbey, circa 1960. Filing into the abbey church at early-winter dusk as the monks chanted the last of vespers, joining them in the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament as the church filled with incense, color, and chant-for some of us, the magic of such worship was itself reason enough to become a Benedictine monk.
A layperson now for...
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