Week Sixty-Two - Saint Maximilian Kolbe
4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Maximilian Kolbe. Is there really a difference between West Chester and Liberty Township? I suppose to the people living in that general vicinity there is, but I surely don't know what the difference is. I've seen St. Maximilian listed as being in both West Chester and Liberty Township. Either way, it's a haul from the neighborhood I like to call home, so when My Husband the Heathen set out in that general direction and graciously offered to go the extra mile or two (or five or ten) to drop me off at a church in the area while he ran an errand, I couldn't say no.
We passed new subdivision after new subdivision, new school after new school, finally arriving at - what else? - a new church. I did my homework and uncovered the following: St. Maximilian's parish was established in 1989 to alleviate overcrowding at nearby Saint John the Evangelist parish, but for the next twelve years, masses were celebrated anywhere but in a church - in a school or in a newly built parish center (putting the proverbial cart before the horse on that one). It wasn't until 1997 that the archdiocese finally gave approval to proceed with plans for construction of an actual church - their earlier argument against a new church, that there was "no guarantee for sustained growth" in the parish, now defeated by the very obvious and ubiquitous development in the region. The new church was completed in 2001.
Big. Ridiculously big. There's no other way to describe St. Max's. The sanctuary is a vast space, wider than it is deep. Although I took a seat off to one side towards the back (standard), I felt like I was miles away, not only from the altar but from those individuals seated waaaaayyy over on the other side of the church. They looked so tiny, so far away. If there was a charge to go to church here, I was definitely in the cheap seats. The pews are arranged in a semi-circle around the altar, but everything else is sharp angles and crisp lines. No surprise, it's a modern church. Subdued floral upholstery on the kneelers was about as fancy as it got. A huge stained glass window of Saint Maximilian was impressive, but the stained glass windows flanking the altar - three on either side - seemed kind of cheesy to me. As best as I could tell, it was a depiction of the Last Supper, each window containing precisely two disciples, each of whom was "looking" towards the altar. It was like a stained glass comic book.
Big. I watched in amazement as a continuous stream of people flowed into the church as 4:30 drew near. The result was a near-capacity crowd. Perhaps because the space was so big, however, like Saint Susanna's, any volume expressed by the congregation while speaking or singing was lost. Hearing and understanding the priest and lectors were also difficult, most words dissolved or lost in a constant echo. Ironically, as I later discovered, St. Max's big 15-page bulletin included an article about planned improvements to their sound system, upgrades that will include not only new audio equipment but acoustical improvements to the interior of the church. Amen to that.
In addition to the above problems with sound, I was experiencing additional distortion courtesy of the elderly Asian gentleman next to me. I didn't catch him singing or responding throughout most of the mass - until it came time for the Creed. With missalette in hand, reading along, he wholeheartedly joined in. Unfortunately, I'm not sure his words were in English. Each phrase started out in English - "We believe . . . " - but ended in anything but. Was he misreading the words? Was he simply mumbling through what he was having trouble with? Was he translating into Japanese/Chinese on the fly? There was no way I could participate with his own unique phraseology in my left ear and the echoes of the priest and congregation in my right. I didn't really care - to be honest, this gentleman was adorable - but, for the moment, I was quite literally at a loss for words.
While reading up on the history of St. Maximilian parish, I clicked on the link to read about St. Max himself. I strongly suggest you do the same. A saint of modern times, the circumstances surrounding his death will horrify and haunt you, his actions will move you. His martyrdom will leave you too at a loss for words.
ATTENDANCE: Two-thirds fullWe passed new subdivision after new subdivision, new school after new school, finally arriving at - what else? - a new church. I did my homework and uncovered the following: St. Maximilian's parish was established in 1989 to alleviate overcrowding at nearby Saint John the Evangelist parish, but for the next twelve years, masses were celebrated anywhere but in a church - in a school or in a newly built parish center (putting the proverbial cart before the horse on that one). It wasn't until 1997 that the archdiocese finally gave approval to proceed with plans for construction of an actual church - their earlier argument against a new church, that there was "no guarantee for sustained growth" in the parish, now defeated by the very obvious and ubiquitous development in the region. The new church was completed in 2001.
Big. Ridiculously big. There's no other way to describe St. Max's. The sanctuary is a vast space, wider than it is deep. Although I took a seat off to one side towards the back (standard), I felt like I was miles away, not only from the altar but from those individuals seated waaaaayyy over on the other side of the church. They looked so tiny, so far away. If there was a charge to go to church here, I was definitely in the cheap seats. The pews are arranged in a semi-circle around the altar, but everything else is sharp angles and crisp lines. No surprise, it's a modern church. Subdued floral upholstery on the kneelers was about as fancy as it got. A huge stained glass window of Saint Maximilian was impressive, but the stained glass windows flanking the altar - three on either side - seemed kind of cheesy to me. As best as I could tell, it was a depiction of the Last Supper, each window containing precisely two disciples, each of whom was "looking" towards the altar. It was like a stained glass comic book.
Big. I watched in amazement as a continuous stream of people flowed into the church as 4:30 drew near. The result was a near-capacity crowd. Perhaps because the space was so big, however, like Saint Susanna's, any volume expressed by the congregation while speaking or singing was lost. Hearing and understanding the priest and lectors were also difficult, most words dissolved or lost in a constant echo. Ironically, as I later discovered, St. Max's big 15-page bulletin included an article about planned improvements to their sound system, upgrades that will include not only new audio equipment but acoustical improvements to the interior of the church. Amen to that.
In addition to the above problems with sound, I was experiencing additional distortion courtesy of the elderly Asian gentleman next to me. I didn't catch him singing or responding throughout most of the mass - until it came time for the Creed. With missalette in hand, reading along, he wholeheartedly joined in. Unfortunately, I'm not sure his words were in English. Each phrase started out in English - "We believe . . . " - but ended in anything but. Was he misreading the words? Was he simply mumbling through what he was having trouble with? Was he translating into Japanese/Chinese on the fly? There was no way I could participate with his own unique phraseology in my left ear and the echoes of the priest and congregation in my right. I didn't really care - to be honest, this gentleman was adorable - but, for the moment, I was quite literally at a loss for words.
While reading up on the history of St. Maximilian parish, I clicked on the link to read about St. Max himself. I strongly suggest you do the same. A saint of modern times, the circumstances surrounding his death will horrify and haunt you, his actions will move you. His martyrdom will leave you too at a loss for words.
DURATION: One hour
