A Historic Landmark

Week Fifteen - Holy Cross - Immaculata

4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, Holy Cross-Immaculata. First, a little history. Archbishop Purcell, the first Archbishop of Cincinnati, was caught in a terrible storm at sea. He prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary, promising that, if he survived, he would build a shrine to Mary on the city's highest hill. That shrine is now Holy Cross-Immaculata Church. Wow. You usually only get that in novels and movies.

Before entering Immaculata, it is imperative that you stop and take in the view. Bring a camera - almost everyone there this particular day had one. Situated at the edge of Mt. Adams, the view really is spectacular - from downtown Cincinnati to the Ohio River to Kentucky and beyond. On a clear day, it might well be possible to see Tennessee. Not really, of course, but there's a lot to look at, including the new set of steps waiting to accomodate Good Friday visitors.

The only thing more impressive than the outside view is the inside view - your first glimpse of the interior of the church upon entering the front doors. It almost takes your breath away. Large, beautiful paintings, multiple altars, ornate spires and ceiling arches. 150 years worth of Catholic decor at its finest. (Although, I have to question the bland wooden main altar and pulpit. Clearly not the original furnishings, why, why, WHY are they here?) I noticed the life-sized statue of St. Patrick immediately. Yes, this is the infamous statue "stolen" every year by the fun-loving Ancient Order of Hibernians for their St. Patrick's Day parade. Oh, those wacky Irishmen.

A polite, upper-class crowd of less than 100 mainly well-dressed older couples comprised the congregation. Most of them seemed to know each other. I doubt if they live in Mt. Adams, so I'm curious as to what brings them to Immaculata. Ease of parking can't be it. After all, this is Mt. Adams.

Music was pleasant - a female soloist self-accompanied by acoustic guitar. Her clear voice echoed beautifully in the church, although for the first Sunday in Advent, her tempo and tone were a bit somber. I always thought of Lent as somber, not Advent. Still, she was very good.

Overall, after visiting Immaculata, a piece of Cincinnati's history, I felt like I had really accomplished something - one of those "100 places to see in Cincinnati before you die." A bit of advice though - if you're sightseeing in the winter, bring a sweater. . . . bring an overcoat. Heat wasn't an option 150 years ago, and apparently, it's not an option now either.

ATTENDANCE: Half full

DURATION: 55 minutes

Strike Two

Week Fourteen - Dang It

My reality keeps getting in the way of my religion.

Fall From Greatness

Week Thirteen - Saint James the Greater (White Oak)

Sunday noon mass at St. James. A few years ago, St. James was one of the larger parishes in Cincinnati, if not the largest, and their parish school had the highest enrollment for schools in the archdiocese, but then, something happened. A new pastor arrived, and things changed. That's nothing new, really. In fact, it's almost to be expected, but apparently, things really changed. The stories were endless. Who will ever forget the "There will not be a nativity display at Christmas" fiasco? Controversies swirled over decisions handed down, and spirits were dampened. Parishioners left in droves, students were transferred to other schools, and employees resigned. Yes, something had gone terribly awry, and sadly, today, the effects continue to be felt - current parishioners will freely admit that "it's not a happy place." I had been to St. James many times over the years, but none in the past several, so I was somewhat curious to see what things would be like. Would I be able to detect some underlying sense of discontent, or had a new generation moved in with a fresh, unbiased approach to things?

Well, the physical church hadn't changed. St. James is an odd church, one of sharp angles and rough, almost primitive stained glass windows. Approximately one-third of the seating area is perpendicular to the altar on the left, while the remaining two-thirds is perpendicular to the altar on the right . . . with stadium seating. That's right, stadium seating. The larger side can be "curtained" off to create a more intimate setting for smaller services. Clearly, whoever designed this church was out of their spiritual mind.

The music was pleasant, except for the honky-tonk piano which sounded as if it belonged in a saloon more than it ever belonged in a church. With St. James' reputation for deep pockets, you'd think somebody would kick in for a new baby grand.

I didn't know who the presiding priest was, an older man who appeared kind and intelligent. He had a great voice for radio, loud and crisp, and showed a real enthusiasm for singing. Hmm, could this be the man behind all the controversy? I don't know. What I do know is that he was SLOW. Slower than molasses. Like-a-turtle slow. His homily - which was actually quite good, but which he literally announced might reach 17 or 18 minutes - included three-second pauses after EVERY sentence. Three seconds. I counted. The eucharistic prayer was a marathon of prayers I had never heard before in addition to the ubiquitous pauses. And did he really have to rinse and dry every cup used for the distribution of wine right then and there? If nothing else, the man was reverent, I'll give him that, but there was a definite stiffness about him and the whole mass at St. James. The servers moved with military precision - no doubt a contributing cause to what I hear is their low number of youth servers. Apparently, they were also under strict orders to have a songbook open to each and every hymn as well. It was quite noticeable.

An absence of handshakes at the Sign of Peace was also noticeable. I'm not a big fan of The Handshake anytime of the year, much less cold and flu season, but there I was with my right hand partially extended . . . and getting shot down three times in a row. I recovered quickly but was baffled seeing many of the same people who had passed on the handshake later drinking from the same cup of wine that the ten or twenty people ahead of them had shared.

Saint James is still a large parish, and so I was confused by the lack of attendance at this noon mass. With only four weekend masses, I expected the church to be full, but saying that it was even half-full is a stretch. Where was everyone? According to the bulletin, today was Donut Sunday after the 8:00 and 10:00 masses. Maybe that was it. No. I have to believe that, more than likely, they were down the street - at St. Ignatius.

ATTENDANCE: Half full

DURATION: 55 minutes

Bless Me, Father . . .

Week Twelve - For I Have Sinned

Too much to do this week. Way too much to do. God's just gonna have to be patient.