In basilica after basilica throughout Christendom, wherever one passes beneath the tympanum of those great western doors or gazes up at the high altar to behold the image of the Christus Pantocrator clad in great priestly or kingly robes (the two become easily intertwined), exercising his solitary dominion over all things, one is actually looking straight into the face of the dysfunction pressed so close to the heart of Christianity.
