The sense I felt as a Roman Catholic, leaving the company of saints to enter a Protestant (Methodist) sanctuary is and was one of stark contrast. Not only was the smell absent of any trace of incense or candle wax or musty ornate vestments, but the visual spareness was off-putting. The saints were absent. The sense of history truncated. The cultural connection to the long history of civilization had vanished. In its place was a single stained glass image of praying hands and a bible.

At Holy Cross on Sunday I felt reconnected to my Catholic past. And, I felt an even deeper connection to the whole body of Christ. The liturgy of Epiphany Church, an Anglican Episcopal church, that of the Missal I read as a boy at All Saints parish in Des Moines and Kansas City are familiar and biblically based, recognizable to any biblically literate Protestant.

I was touched deeply at several points in the worship. In the pre-communion procession through the congregation, children approached the priest, kissing his vestments. I know my grandson Anthony, who lives with me, needs to have this tangible connection to the holy, as do I. I believe I will stay at Epiphany, but I will also seek occasional reconnection to the depth of the Church's past in Orthodox and Anglican high church celebration. It does the soul good.