It was a dreary and cold day today, so it was darker than normal Sunday morning in the nave. During the Gospel procession (which is complete with crucifer/cross and torchbearers/torches) the candle flames were flickering brightly and their light glinted off the cross and the beautiful golden Bible cover and the teenage acolytes' faces as the procession came down the aisle and stopped for a few minutes and then went back up to the altar again.
I saw a couple of young children standing in their pews, watching intently, perhaps thinking that someday they will be the ones to carry those bright flames down the aisle in that beautiful place. Everyone, both the acolytes and the kids watching them, stood so still, and there was an alertness in the eyes of those who turned to face the Gospel. Perhaps it was the way the light played on the scene. It made me think about how much ritual and a certain amount of solemnity and reverence feeds the soul of folks of every age.
I'll bet those images stay with the watching children, even if it backs into the recesses of their memories, and some day they will see another procession and remember this day and how the light looked as it traveled down and back up the aisle, warm and bright and moving mysteriously, journeying deliberately into the distance.