O mighty Churches of Greece and Antioch, what has made you stumble?. Where is your nimbus of pieties? The holy icons are replaced with stained glass, so that we cannot see Heaven nor light candles for the light of saints, being confronted with the ordinary light of Earth. We cannot make prostrations, nor kiss the saints, because the pews of infirmity and age fill the nave and we are frozen not with holy dread but with furniture. We cannot pray in one voice for the harmonies of the choir and the boom of the organ, nor learn the sacred tones now adrift in a See of polyphony. We kiss the cheek of a priest without beard, his locks shorn as though in captivity to the world rather than to Heaven. The pagan collar, yoke of schism, pretender to catholicity, for which there are no vesting prayers, has replaced the holy vestments, so that there is no hem to touch and be healed. The liturgies are abbreviated, so that the mind cannot learn the secrets of the mysteries, nor the depth of theology. Even so, the secret prayers of the temple, the humility of the celebrants, are broadcast across PA speakers. The calendars are laid bare, so that the Saints are difficult to find in our prayers. Where are you, our Mother? Where can you be found? You still speak with foreign tongues, but are adorned with local squalor. Where in you is our one Homeland and spiritual Country? Save me, Holy Church, save me who seeks in you your former glory.