A View from my Choir Stall
From the monastery tower, a bell rings. There is a familiar swish of
habits, the sliding of soft soles across floors, a
quiet rustle of Breviaries opening and pages being turned. Sisters
move to their places without hesitation. No one wonders where to go
today, for once choir stalls have been assigned, they are easily
remembered. A nun prays in the
same one numerous times a day, seven days a week.
Looking over photos of choir stalls the last few days, I've been struck by how different they are from one to another. Some are carved and ornate. Some are simple and bare. And a few look decidedly uncomfortable.... (continue)
Looking over photos of choir stalls the last few days, I've been struck by how different they are from one to another. Some are carved and ornate. Some are simple and bare. And a few look decidedly uncomfortable.... (continue)
Comments
Post a Comment