What Happened To My Weekend?

Week Fifty-Four

So, I kind of thought that being with the fam was most important this weekend. Hence, the tour is on hiatus for a week . . . and hoping to resume next week.

Southbound

Week Fifty-Three - Mother of God (Covington)

11:30 Sunday morning mass, Mother of God. Located in Covington, Kentucky, Mother of God is almost 160 years old, so immediately, you know you're headed for great things. The exterior is grandiose, certainly making its presence known in a neighborhood of less intimidating row houses. A parking lot across the street included a statue of a head (yes, a head) on its perimeter, gazing up at the church. Neither my husband nor my son nor myself could determine exactly what kind of head it was - angel? lion? dementor? - but it was both delightfully amusing albeit a bit disturbing at the same time.

Opening the doors to Mother of God reminded me of the doors at the Cincinnati Art Museum - they're huge, and what's behind them was amazing. Mother of God is without a doubt the most ornate church I've been in to date (or, at least, tied with St. Monica-St. George). Everywhere you look - and I mean everywhere - is another meticulous detail. There's Latin. There's gold. There's columns. There's an abundance of trompe l'oeil. There's tiled floors. There's painting after painting after painting. And the stained glass windows? Oh, the windows. By far, the best I've seen. The size and detail is truly amazing. They're beautiful.

In spite of all the history and classic elegance, Mother of God was still oddly contemporary. A casual crowd strolled in on this particular Sunday morning. They were a chatty and neighborly bunch, raising the conversation volume considerably, so much so that during the call to worship, the lector invited everyone to pause for a moment in silence to prepare for the liturgy. The music was also contemporary and quite good. The occasional inclusion of trumpets should be employed more often. Their sound resonated in the church beautifully.

Sign language interpreters stationed at the front of the church served what appeared to be a number of hearing-impaired parishioners in the pews. It was a joy to see those parishioners "singing" along with their hands. It was even more touching to see quite a large number of other parishioners, including the priest, deacon, and music group, occasionally join in with the signing.

It looks like Mother of God has taken good care of itself and is continuing to do so. When we visited, a section of pews had been replaced with folding chairs. This must be the norm recently as the section we were in included beautifully restored (or new?) pews, new upholstery on the seats, and new carpeting under our feet. However, again, there was an odd oxymoron here as there were no kneelers. I'll just keep my fingers crossed that too many contemporary trends never detract from the grandeur and stateliness of this historic gem.

ATTENDANCE: Comfortably full

DURATION: 1 hour, 10 minutes

One Year Later

Week Fifty-Two - Back to St. Ignatius

7:30 Sunday evening mass, St. Ignatius. Pressure from the family forced me back to the campsite this week. I've been to this mass a million times, and I still like it. Contemporary, young, casual. It's like the perfect fashion line in a eucharistic celebration.

Technically, the first anniversary of this whole church tour thing will be next week, but since I have very little to report about St. Ignatius - same priest, same music, same vapid decor - it seems the perfect opportunity to do a little reflecting on the past 52 weeks.

First, a few statistics for the year: 40 different churches attended, 26 Saturday afternoon/evening masses, 7 Sunday morning masses, 7 Sunday non-morning masses (who's definitely not a morning person?), 27 "Saint" churches (28 if you count St. Monica-St. George as two), 4 "Our Lady" churches, 3 sets of 2 churches with the same name, 1 church with a jumbotron. All of the churches have been in Ohio, but I definitely look forward to expanding across statelines.

My favorite church? It's hard to pick just one. I'm attracted to several of the churches I've been to just by virtue of their aesthetics. They are simply beautiful. Others have a certain intangible "vibe" about them, a positivity that leaves me happy and satisfied. My least favorite? Oh, yes. There have been a few churches that have certainly tried my patience, whether in the physical aspects of the church or the celebration of the mass. A few churches made me question the character of their parishioners. My opinions are no secret. They're all out there in the blog for anyone to read, but to now name those specific churches that fall into my discard pile? Sorry. In this entry, I plead the fifth.

Best part of the tour? Seeing a new church for the first time. Opening the doors to a new church for the first time. Walking into a new church for the first time. It's like opening a present. You just never know what you're going to find. Forrest Gump would reference a box of chocolates. Worst part? Not knowing where to park . . . and trying to snap a quick photo without drawing too many stares, especially the ones from my kids.

Have I learned anything? Well, it's become glaringly evident how very Catholic Cincinnati is. Last August, although I had no doubts about the strong Catholic heritage of Cincinnati, I really had no idea how many Catholic churches there are here. Suffice it to say that I completely underestimated. I love finding churches that I've never heard of, churches that I didn't even know existed. Now, as I extend my list into Northern Kentucky, I again have to admit, I had no idea how many Catholic churches there really are here. This "little" project could go on for quite a while yet.

But have I really learned anything? Uncovered some deep insight, some life-changing epiphany? Umm . . . no. I don't feel any different. My faith and my level of devotion haven't changed. I suppose the only thing that continues to strike me over and over is the universality of the Catholic church. No matter what physical church you're in or what mass you attend, we Catholics pray the same prayers, sing the same songs, and believe the same beliefs. Around the world - THE WORLD - the exact same mass is being celebrated in the exact same way by millions of people. It is an appreciation of that fact that has become more and more evident to me and made me feel like I am a part of something much bigger than I realized, a part of something great.

ATTENDANCE: Comfortably full

DURATION: One hour

Filibuster

Week Fifty-One - Saint Michael

11:30 Sunday morning mass, St. Michael. Everything about this week's visit to St. Michael's Church in Sharonville was so unremarkable that I nearly forgot about making this blog entry. It was just that - forgettable. Not to fear, however. I've come to my senses and realized that I do have a few comments to share.

For whatever reason, stupid me expected St. Michael's to be a big, modern church. The reality was quite the opposite. Landlocked in the heart of downtown Sharonville, St. Michael's is a fairly large church, although large only as a result of the classic - and very obvious - "expansion" that happened at some point in the church's history - the ol' "Let's knock out part of a wall and add on a room" syndrome. They added on a room alright. Set at a 90 degree angle to the original church, its headache-inducing bright, white walls and skylight created such a sharp contrast to the rest of the church that the room virtually glowed.

Other than that, it seemed pretty obvious that very little has changed at St. Michael's over the years. Decor is dated . . . and somewhat unusual. A towering pyramid of nine large milk crate-like panels stands between the tabernacle and the altar and congregation. Not exactly a privacy fence - you can look right through it. Hardly a security measure - you can walk around it. What the heck? Not only did I not understand the rationale behind it, I found it incredibly distracting.

A small guitar group/choir provided the music. I felt bad for them, not because they were bad - on the contrary, I thought they were quite good - but because it was very difficult to hear them. Maybe it was a poor sound system or maybe it was just the way they were facing but I only heard a fraction of what seemed to be rather pleasant harmonies. The din of numerous whining and crying toddlers and children didn't help, but it was good to see so many young families at mass.

Mass at St. Michael's would have been tolerably bland except for one truly notable downfall. Hands down, the celebrating priest's homily takes the cake as the longest one I've heard so far. It went on and on and on foreeeevvveeerrr. Given his loud, clear voice, I initially was being good, paying attention, trying to digest what he was saying, but after what seemed like an eternity, I had no other choice but to begin contemplating what I was going to cook for dinner this week. The content of the homily was actually interesting, but the delivery was ridiculously repetitive. To make matters worse, he had a particular way of speaking that made every sentence sound like it was his last. As a result, his marathon homily continually led to the following thought sequence: "Oh, good, he's wrapping up. No, wait, there's more . . . Oh, good. NOW he's wrapping up . . . no, no, not yet." It really was cruel and unusual punishment. Ironically, this same priest later flew through the eucharistic prayer at record speed. Guess you have to make concessions somewhere. I'm just not convinced he was making concessions at the right spot.

The ennui of St. Michael's was offset by a tasty treat on the way home - the same one that we were denied after our Saint Susanna outing. A gallon of homemade root beer always make everything seem better.

ATTENDANCE: Comfortably full

DURATION: 65 minutes

Bap-tholics

Week Fifty - Good Shepherd

4:00 Sunday afternoon mass, Good Shepherd. With the kids gone for the day and nothing on the agenda, this past Sunday presented a perfect opportunity to take the time to hit one of the churches a bit farther away. I was surprised to find a 4:00 Sunday afternoon mass at Good Shepherd, so Mr. Wonderful and I put the pedal to the metal and headed to Montgomery. Touted as a "contemporary" mass, I never doubted for a minute that what I was going to find at Good Shepherd would be anything less than contemporary. I completely underestimated.

Good Shepherd is a huge parish. Lots of acreage, a sprawling physical campus, and an extremely large worship space - it has to be to accomodate the 11,000+ parishioners (4000+ households). When all of these parishioners actually attend mass, however, remains unclear. Granted, our visit was made on a pleasant Sunday summer afternoon, but attendance was noticeably low. I can only assume the remaining five weekend masses pick up the slack, but still, last week's collection as indicated in the bulletin doesn't seem in sync with the census numbers. With almost twice the number of households as St. Ignatius and, more than likely, a higher average income bracket, shouldn't the collection basket yield at least double the income? Apparently not. Interesting.

Everything at Good Shepherd is set at sharp, crisp right angles and not in a particularly attractive way, at least for my tastes. My husband and I passed through a pagoda-like entrance into a foyer that was more like the lobby of a movie theater. If there had been a concession stand, I wouldn't have looked twice. When we finally found the sanctuary, there was a pause, a brief moment of genuine disbelief. "What is this?" my husband asked. "I would say this is where Catholicism meets Protestantism," I replied.

I truly couldn't believe what I was seeing. In a room the shape of a right triangle, rows and rows and rows of what I call "waiting room chairs" faced the altar. There were no kneelers, of course, but here's the best part: high above the altar and on either side of the altar were - wait for it - The Big Screens, three of them to be exact. I fully expected to see Robert Schuller to come walking out. My husband later revealed that he was expecting Joel Osteen. I felt nauseous. I felt uneasy. Mass hadn't even started, and I wanted to leave. This was something I wasn't expecting at all, just as I wasn't expecting the slideshow of ever-so-meaningful pictures during mass or the jumbotron display of words to the songs. It was just so . . . so . . . tacky. Even My Husband the Heathen agreed, arguing that their efforts made everything so cheap, so theatrical - but without the theater. (For a brief moment, I almost countered with the argument that there really is no better theater than a man changing bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, but this really wasn't the time.)

According to Good Shepherd's website, this particular mass is meant to "spread the word to those who have left the Church in order to find a more upbeat contemporary worship service elsewhere." Hmm. Like The Vineyard? I think they have upbeat "worship services." Last time I checked, I was still attending masses. "At Good Shepherd, you can clap or wave your hands to the music . . . in a lively worship space." Okay, I saw a few people clapping their hands but only one hand waver. Frankly, there just wasn't much at all that I would call lively. A clearly un-lively dimming of the lights for a musical reflection after communion came off as . . . well . . . hokey.

Unfortunately, I think the music group was a large part of the problem. I've heard wonderful contemporary performances time and time again by a group of high school and college students that far surpasses what I heard at Good Shepherd. There was something grating in their peformance. I'm not sure what the specific problem might have been - vocals? accompaniment? - but whatever it was was also compounded by a poor sound system. Overall, this "vibrant worship experience" was just trying too hard to be something it wasn't. This was not the Hour of Power.

Ironically, my husband and I had planned on stopping for dinner on the way home after mass. If we had been smart, we could have saved a few dollars had we taken advantage of Good Shepherd's monthly "Fellowship in the Front Foyer" held on the day we visited. This month, the event had a colorful "beach" theme. Dedicated parishioners were serving sloppy joes, fruit kabobs, salt water taffy, and drinks to anyone ready to eat. A craft project that involved decorating flip-flops was offered to the kids. My Husband the Heathen snagged a large cookie on the way out. I didn't have the heart to tell him he had missed the Coronas chilling in a large tub of ice . . . and what surely would have been another moment of disbelief.

ATTENDANCE: Less than half full

DURATION: One hour