Actually, it’s sort of the other way around. The following should explain…
Obviously, when we lost the cottage it was upsetting. I had spent my first summer up there as a newborn in a crib out on the Precambrian rocks by the clear, rippling waters. The place really was in my blood but God eventually took it away.
Luckily, before that happened I had converted to Catholicism, and the cottage was already looking and feeling sort of “small.” That process actually began in my early 20s, where I began to sense something far greater than physical or natural beauty.
To make a long story short, we eventually sold the cottage but by then I was firmly installed in Catholicism. So I used to go down to St. Michael’s Cathedral and compare the beauty of the Mass, which is mostly spiritual and only slightly aesthetic, to that of the cottage, which is mostly natural.
I decided back then that it was a close call (Georgian Bay really is lovely) but the night Mass at St. Michael’s won out.
Since then, St. Michael’s went thru a massive reno to the tune of – so they say – $128 million. The place looks more like a McDonald’s now than a rustic old Cathedral. They also replaced the friendly cantor and guitar with organ music. The statue in this pic was imported from Italy. I’m not wild about it but don’t dislike it either. It’s okay.
These things don’t really matter for those of us who know what the Eucharist is all about.
I have tried to describe the beauty of Catholic mysticism but I usually get blank stares and replies like, “Oh I’m not really into religion.”
That’s fine. But sometimes I wish I could show people what they are missing!