forgive me, father, it's been some time.
[Langston didn't know much about religion. His father hadn't practiced any. They never went to church or prayed over their food before dinner. Christmas was celebrated because it was an excuse to decorate the pub, exchange presents, and cook a fat turkey for dinner. There had been no day of rest on Sunday. That had been that.
Reawakening as Lancelot... that had opened his eyes to religion a little more. It had given his lack of interest a little stir. Seeing all the gods and goddesses, angels and demons, knights and nymphs... it all made him start to question his spirituality, his moral fibers, his soul. Looking at his son and his peers made him turn the gaze inside himself. Galahad had an unbending devotion to his faith. Bors was a priest.
What was missing in him that made him doubt that bending down on his knees and praying would do any good?
Why couldn't he ask for forgiveness and know he was on the path to being forgiven for his sins?
...Why?]
How do you find an honest, good church in New York? Call me curious.
Reawakening as Lancelot... that had opened his eyes to religion a little more. It had given his lack of interest a little stir. Seeing all the gods and goddesses, angels and demons, knights and nymphs... it all made him start to question his spirituality, his moral fibers, his soul. Looking at his son and his peers made him turn the gaze inside himself. Galahad had an unbending devotion to his faith. Bors was a priest.
What was missing in him that made him doubt that bending down on his knees and praying would do any good?
Why couldn't he ask for forgiveness and know he was on the path to being forgiven for his sins?
...Why?]
How do you find an honest, good church in New York? Call me curious.