A seminarian from England told me of his distaste for the culture of permission he had inherited from his parents. “They don’t understand why I’m a priest, let alone why I wear this cassock and like the old Mass.” His siblings are less religious but share his impulses. “My brother’s in the army. My sister works for the NHS. We wanted to be part of something. Our parents think we’re crazy.” He was expected to adopt the kind of Catholicism he encountered at the Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral, a UFO-shaped building that a gray-haired bishop built in the ’60s to suit the Catholics of the future. But the Catholics of the future turned out to prefer the past. When the young Englishman saw his first Latin Mass, he said, “It was like a kaleidoscope turning. All these things I knew and believed to be true suddenly took on a unity and wholeness.”