Contrast

This morning I left Central High School where nothing is sacred for a funeral at St. John's Armenian Orthodox Church where sacred filled every one of my senses. From the priest touching the crucifix to my head, and the pungent aroma of incense, the chanting sounds of the deacon in the Armenian language, and the visual impression of the historic sanctuary. Quite a contrast from smelling weed, seeing graffiti, and hearing the F word used as 4 different parts of speech as a hall monitor.