Yeesh. And I’m not one to point fingers, either, because my own parish church, though I love it dearly, looks like a prefab office plaza dropped from a helicopter into the middle of a pasture. The Angel of the Perpendicular Style passed it right on over, and then some.
The lesson of course is that ugliness is not in itself an absolute impediment to holiness. But then, neither is beauty, a truth lost on an awful lot of architects circa 1972, not to mention whole worshipful companies of makers of tabernacles, baptismal fonts, Stations of the Cross, or crucifixes, all of whom seem to have said to themselves, “Let us give them this hideous thing, and dare them to think about God.”
Lift My Chin, Lord
Lift my chin, Lord,Say to me,“You are not whoYou feared to be,Not Hecate, quite,With howling sound,Torch held…
Letters
Two delightful essays in the March issue, by Nikolas Prassas (“Large Language Poetry,” March 2025) and Gary…
Spring Twilight After Penance
Let’s say you’ve just comeFrom confession. Late sunPours through the budding treesThat mark the brown creek washing Itself…