Holy Tribe
As I knelt near the edge of the pew, angelic voices of small children singing alleluia mingled with the faint yet familiar aroma of incense filling the cavernous cathedral of St. Cecilia. I looked down, my hands folded in prayer, as row after row of the faithful in front of me, beside me, and behind me filed slowly to the front of the church. I avoided making eye contact with those receiving the small sacred wafer. I knew I no longer belonged. As a second grader in Sister Leodegar’s class preparing for months for my first holy communion at St.
