Painted Ladies

Week Thirty-Six - Saint Stephen

6:30 Saturday evening mass. St. Stephen. When I initially embarked on this little "church project", I compiled what I thought was a fairly lengthy list of Catholic churches in Cincinnati, primarily churches I was at least vaguely familiar with, either in name or location. After a while, however, through a variety of sources (quite often in the daily obits), I would notice churches not on my list. Concerned that my list was obviously incomplete, I managed to identify via the internet the "deaneries" in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati with a list of the churches belonging to each one . . . which quickly blew my humble little list of churches completely out of the water. Okay, I always knew that Cincinnati had a lot of Catholic churches, but how could I have missed so many of them! Suffice it say that my list doubled (tripled?) in size, providing me with an overwhelming supply of new worship locales to choose from, including this week's treat, St. Stephen.

I had never heard of St. Stephen, but the timing was right, and in spite of a steady rainfall, My Husband the Heathen and I headed to the Columbia-Tusculum area. We arrived early enough to take a quick tour through the neighborhood, enjoying the delightfully, charming houses, aka the "painted ladies." Very hip. Very cool. A small parking lot next door to the church was ideal given the very wet weather - you couldn't have gotten any closer to the front door.

St. Stephen's is an old parish -1860's-old, and it was that piece of information that prefaced my high hopes for a classically beautiful old church. Well, the floors looked old, and the pews looked old, but this building was clearly not the original church of more than a century and a half ago. Somewhere along the line, it was obvious that the church had undergone major renovations. I haven't been able to locate a history of St. Stephen's parish, but a quick glance at the clean lines of the ceiling left me a little disappointed - my hopes for "old" had been replaced, at least half-way, with "new."

This mixture of old and new wasn't really bad, more just kind of . . . bland. A huge mural spanning the width of the wall behind the altar was a good effort by someone. Unfortunately, though, that someone was no Michaelangelo. Something more along the lines of a pastel panorama, this painting included the whole hierarchy - random folk, disciples, Jesus, angels, and the big man himself, God. I wanted to see a kind, gentle God, but I couldn't help but find the God in this painting to be rather scary and angry looking, with a halo looking oddly similar to the symbol for radioactivity . . . or Mickey Mouse ears. Sorry, but it's true. It seemed as if two individuals might have collaborated on the mural as there were all of two trees in the painting - one on the left and one on the right - but each was a different species. The variety was nice, but I wondered if someone hadn't gotten the memo about which tree was going to be used in the final draft.

The celebrating priest was a black gentleman from Ghana. I loved his vestment - a glittery silver lined with pink. To die for. Anyhoo, his presence reaffirmed my enchantment with the idea of a truly universal Catholic church. Here was a man from half-way around the world, saying the same mass, the same words, that we here in Cincinnati hear every week, that every Catholic, everywhere hears. I love that. It definitely took me a while to get the hang of his accent, and I'm not sure I ever got there. For future reference, "peas" = "peace," "ship" = "sheep," "fata" = "father." It really was difficult, but at the same time, it was exotic . . . and lovely.

The music group was quite good. Five adults with a man and a woman leading the vocals. They sang a lot of my favorites, so bonus points for that. A short a capella verse sung after the elevation of the bread and wine was something new that I totally didn't expect. Not sure what that was all about or where it came from. Might have to look into that.

The congregation this particular evening numbered less than 100. There were no children in attendance, but among the older couples, there was also a large number of individual adults. An upper-middle class crowd.

According to their bulletin, St. Stephen Church is a "laity-led Catholic parish with a canonical pastor." I have no idea what that means, but I liked it. Convenient parking. A pew all to myself. Good tunes. Sigh. Why must the good churches always be so far away?

ATTENDANCE: One-fourth full

DURATION: 55 minutes

Close but No Cigar

Week Thirty-Five

Decided that nursing a sore back was a better decision than risking the possibility of not being able to get up after kneeling.

Pre-Game Warm-Up

Week Thirty-Four - Our Lady of Victory

11:15 Sunday morning mass, Our Lady of Victory. I can take two different approaches regarding my visit to Our Lady of Victory. First, the glass half-full approach: There were a lot of families at this mass, several of them fairly large families. The parishioners of OLV had clearly made the Sunday morning effort and made it to mass. How much of an effort that actually was leads to my second approach, the glass half-empty approach. Confirming all of the traditional "west sider" stereotypes, dress for the day was casual, and I mean, casual. An abundance of jeans, t-shirts, and shorts (and, even worse, denim shorts) made my khaki pants and polo shirt look like formal wear. Consider the family in front of me sporting their finest athletic wear: mom in her matching black Adidas pants, jacket, and tennies, a daughter in a high school soccer jacket, snagged and flimsy gym shorts, and Adidas sandals with white footies, and a son in basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Dad, of course, had on his best denim shorts. Sigh. This particular family brings me to my next glass half-empty point of contention - arrival and departure times at OLV.

With mass scheduled for 11:15, my daughter and I looked at each other during the tolling of the bells at 11:10 - there must have been less than 50 people in the church. "Is this it?" we wondered. No, that wasn't it at all because by 11:15 and the start of mass, the bells apparently had worked because, in that short five minute interval, the church had become roughly half full. By 11:30, the church was 3/4 full - courtesy of countless late arrivals, including Sports Family in front of me. Wow, that Delhi traffic must have really been bad this week. Uh-huh. After communion, the church was back to half full - courtesy of early departures . . . including the folks in front of me. Probably had to get to "The Game."

Our Lady of Victory reminded me vaguely of Saint Ignatius in size and layout with a few notable differences. No kneelers. Grrrr. A huge disproportionate cross behind the altar that looked to me more like a giant plus sign with a teeny-tiny Jesus figure in the middle of it. And no center aisle, just a section of "center pews" with aisles on either side. That last one bothered me - how do you work a wedding around that? Which aisle does the bride walk down? Is that center section the "bride's side" or the "groom's side"? I did like the servers' garb, "coloring book" altar boys complete with the black cassock and short white frock over the top. Yeah, they've definitely been using those for a while, but I like them. I especially liked the servers' black dress shoes.

I always consider the 10:00 to 11:00 Sunday morning time slot to be "prime time" for weekend masses. You get the biggest crowds, the best music, the whole shebang. So, although this particular mass at 11:15 technically fell outside of my allotted time period, I still felt it was close enough to qualify as "the really big show." Didn't happen. On the contrary, something about OLV made me feel . . . sad. Even the adult guitar group seemed sad. Maybe they too sensed what I sensed - the feeling that no one really wanted to be there. You know how the early morning conversations in the homes of these Delhisians went: "Just hurry up and get in the car. We can run in Victory for the 11:15 mass and, if we leave after communion, we can still make it in time." Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's exactly how it went.

ATTENDANCE: varied throughout the mass

DURATION: 1 hour

The Motherland

Week Thirty-Three - Roll Away the Stone

8:00 mass, Easter Sunday morning, St. Ignatius. First, let me begin by saying that Easter Sunday, 2010, has been the most perfect Easter I can remember in a long time. Temperatures in the 70's, beautiful, sunny skies, a quick and easy brunch, a relaxing day (with nothing to do but nap and enjoy the outdoors - yes!), and a good dinner. With an agenda like that, it's obvious why Easter always has been and will continue to be my favorite holiday.

I couldn't quite rally the troops to attend the Easter vigil service at St. Rose on Saturday evening, so it was back to square one this week, i.e. St. Ignatius, bright and early. Ah, tradition - and maybe a little too much of it. For how many years now has the children's bell choir played the exact same songs? Too many to count, unfortunately, but I do realize that for those first-time bell ringers, it's all new, and for their parents, it's probably another Kodak moment . . . yeah, I've been there. The generations are definitely changing at St. I's. The kids who I remember as kindergartners are now in college; the parents I volunteered with in the school cafeteria are now grandparents; and, most notably, who are these young families and what are they doing at my church? Attend the same church regularly and you'll definitely get a front row seat for the circle of life.

Ironically, when starting this little church tour project, I was content with St. Ignatius, both the physical church and the parish. Now, in a bizarrre twist of fate, I'm not sure I can say that anymore. After seeing so many vaulted ceilings, Michaelangelo-esque paintings, towering spires, polished woodwork, and even marquee lights on "The Tour," here I was on Easter Sunday looking at drab, blank walls in something that resembles a large, concrete barrel. I couldn't stay tuned in to the deacon delivering a disconnected homily, and I was annoyed that, as usual, the pastor made a mistake saying the mass. Even the music director flubbed the words to one of the songs. After a long week of Easter-related services, I'm sure the staff was weary, but I'm not sure I accept that as an excuse - it's only the most important day of the church year. And really, St. I's, would it kill you to invest in new hymnals? The only thing holding the current hymnals together is scotch tape and prayer. It's embarrassing.

"Familiarity breeds contempt"? Contempt is definitely way too strong of a word, but maybe that's the problem. Visiting other churches provides a bit of novelty, a sense of entertainment, and definitely a certain level of interest as one ventures into the new and unknown. Returning to St. I's means it's back to the "same old, same old." There's nothing new here - same music, same faces. It's all too familiar, and while some might find comfort in that, right now, I think I'll continue seeing the sights while I still can.