One of the sweetest ladies I know asked me a question the other day that had been bothering her for a very long time. It was one of those questions that you don’t exactly know how to ask—much less, who to ask.“I’ve been noticing something at daily Mass,†she began very timidly, as sweet older ladies do. “And it only happens at daily Mass,†she explained, “when we drink from the priestÂ’s chalice.â€â€œI know Father doesn’t mean to, and I don’t blame him. I’m sure it’s only an accident, you see.†She hesitated getting to her main point.“There’s always a...