I was not the most diligent kid when it came to participating in the Mass. As soon as my family entered the church one block away from our home, I would grab a bulletin and pen, place them on the pew as I knelt facing away from the altar, and furiously scribble tornadoes over the ads on the back page.
One thing never failed to capture my attention or wonder, however. Built in 1905, our church had beautiful stained glass windows. The most striking sat above the center of…