It’s simple: seven women each pray a Eucharistic Holy Hour one day a week for one priest.
I became the “anchoress” of a Seven Sisters Apostolate group last September.
It’s simple: seven women each pray a Eucharistic Holy Hour one day a week for one priest.
I became the “anchoress” of a Seven Sisters Apostolate group last September.
To the editor:
We have in my neighborhood in Madison annually a kind of reenactment of the tornado of human bodies witnessed by Dante in the Inferno’s scene about sins against chastity: a nude swarm swirling around busy downtown on bicycles, eliciting a wave of stares, grins, whoops, glee, and photo taking by bystanders, as perhaps the demons enjoy seeing tormented souls, and certainly a vignette of post-sexual-revolution social sin.
Madison’s “World Naked Bike Ride” either opposes fossil fuels or celebrates the immunity of moral chaos to correction by authority. Not everyone experiences it as altogether benign: a local woman who had been sexually assaulted in early life recently told a journalist that “seeing dozens, often hundreds of naked bodies unexpectedly is a trigger for her.”
Whether you’re an active web surfer, or just like to keep up on modern jargon, you may be familiar with the term “blogging.”