I’ve just returned from St. Mary’s Basilica, in downtown Phoenix, where I went to pray the Rosary. I drove there, in my parents’ white pickup, after searching online for a Catholic church that is both in the area and relatively old. I did this because all of the churches I’ve visited since arriving are newer, architecturally, which is fine, and not intended by me as a criticism, but I was feeling as though I wanted to go to a church today that was not so new, even if it wasn’t as beautiful, because that kind of building, in my experience, tends to contain a different kind of silence.