When one of my sisters phoned the other day, we got to talking about the church in which we grew up.
We were raised high-church Episcopalian. When you went to church there was no other place it could possibly be and nothing but worship could have possibly been going on. As the priest consecrated the body and blood for communion, he — yes, he — faced the altar and crucifix. We received communion on the tongue while we knelt at the communion rail. The lay readers — those who read the Epistle at each service — were enrobed, as were we acolytes.
If he had only waited a few years (and, I guess, not died) he could have blamed it on AI. There has been a whole lot of news in the last week. So there was not the coverage there otherwise might have been about the discovery of proof that the late Pope Francis was lying through his teeth when he announced four years ago next week that the world’s bishops hated the Latin Mass.