Part of living the Catholic faith is accepting the cultural inheritance that comes with it. For dozens of generations, this heritage was faithfully passed on. More than just the tenants, doctrines, and learnings, there is the beauty and culture that comes with those things. The art, the literature, the contemplative texts; all of them meant to guide our lives, and to push us to deeper understanding and love.

Last night, I was praying The Liturgy of the Hours and the Canticle was written by Habakkuk. More than 2,600 years after he first wrote these words, I was sitting in a climate controlled room 6,100 miles away, praying the same words he prayed.

These were not words written for consumption, reflection, or discourse. These were words written solely to praise the glory of God. They were words written for beauty.

This is a small part of what it is to be Catholic, to walk and pray with the generations that came before and, mystically, with those still to come. And this short passage of scripture, these few lines of prayer, are a drop in the bucket of the inheritance that is mine to relish.