Like a lot of Catholic teenagers, I started skipping mass in high school.  I’d disappear for an hour on Saturday or Sunday at the appropriate time, but instead of going to church I headed to the park or to work out or to read.  I didn’t disagree with the church’s teachings.  I just didn’t see the point of mass.  Sitting, standing, reciting (usually mumbling) the same words with everyone glancing at their watches.  Ironically, now that I’m not a believer, I find great beauty in the ritual.  I att...