By sheer coincidence, we were able to stop by a church and in the process got to witness Sunday service…or at least the tail end of it. I couldn’t understand what was being said at all as it was done in Portuguese but the sequence they followed was only all too familiar. Hats off to catholic consistency.

We specifically went to the Church of St Anthony of Padua since not only is he the city’s patron, and who I found out is actually named Ferdinand, it didn’t hurt that he was a namesake of my traveling buddy. It was a jewel box of a church and was quite beautiful if a bit eerie – I’m almost sure I saw the mummified remains of a martyr wearing a dress and positioned irregularly in a glass coffin. Don’t know how Jesus would feel about that.


And just next door was the Lisbon Cathedral, imposing and majestic as how cathedrals ought to be. It also had the seemingly prerequisite elderly woman begging by the doorway, trying to gain as much attention with her extended hand, more often failing than not. Makes me think whether God put her there to seek charity or rather to give everyone who goes in and comes out pause to think. The philosophy of religion can be so complicated sometimes.


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