"It's really about each person before the Lord," the priest said

  somewhat distracted by the flash bulbs of the crime scene photographers and the flared up disgust of the detectives who'd stayed.  Many refused to enter the desecrated seminary. 

  The parish had grown and with that growth had come ideas about community and divisions around the application of church. 

  "It's about the Sacraments, church is really about the Sacraments," a nun in an old fashioned black habit had wrestled open a locked closet and retrieved a mop and a bucket.  The children told to stay with the holy people were magnetized and asking questions.  There was a feeling of a dam having been broken and all the people being like logs floating off and getting crammed against an unfamiliar shore. 

  "I blame this on the Jesuits." An organ player in a sweater and dress slacks waited for the photography and gawking to pass to the next practice altar before setting a tipped over holy candle upright amidst the spraypainted symbols and street objects arranged on the slab of cement.  "How so?" Another sister in a more light colored habit put a cardboard box on the floor near the now-defunct altar.  Even before they'd entered the vast basement of praying places they'd been instructed to consider the site just a building that needed cleaning up.  "I'll say," said a captain of a nun in pajamas and an overcoat. 

  "Is this what you were writing?" A woman from a different program held up the notebook and asked. 

  "Maybe." 

  "What just happened?" Another person rushed into the wooden-walled room and asked. 

  Sighs and the plunking of book bags onto metal chairs in a circle. 

  "People can't even agree on the meaning of the word (i)dog(i) so how in the world can they uphold Academic tradition?!" 

  "We're at war again." A Veteran announced.