Week Sixty-One - Saint Antoninus
4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Antoninus. Western Hills' finest. There's no other way to put it. Not the church. The congregation. It's true. Just ask them, but they won't tell you. They don't really have to, of course - it's that obvious. These are the people who have lived and prospered, especially prospered, in Western Hills for most of their lives. I'm sure their names read like a Who's Who list for the west side - if not all - of Cincinnati. They exude confidence and comfort, wallowing in the knowledge that they own, often quite literally if not figuratively, the west side. This particular mass included a huge majority of well-dressed senior couples, most arriving in Cadillacs or Lincolns. The women, for the most part, wore crisp pantsuits and an incredible amount of bling. And the men? I haven't seen that many sport coats at a weekend mass since . . . well, I've never seen that many sport coats at a weekend mass. Their after-mass plans clearly included dinner at "the club," i.e., Western Hills Country Club, where a jacket is mandatory and a polyester pantsuit is always in good taste. Ah, the good life . . .
The church at St. Antoninus is noticeably . . . ivory and a bit off-kilter. A large crucifix is hung not directly behind the altar but set off to the side. Recessed panels behind the altar are likewise unbalanced, with a door on just one side, opening to what appeared to be a smaller chapel. There are several large windows, but only one stained glass window, a huge circular one. It reminded me of a flower . . . or a lollipop. Lighting was helter-skelter - there were canned lights, recessed lights, hung lights reflecting upward. If there was a pattern, I couldn't find it. Looking around at St. Antoninus's church, I could easily envision a wedding party there. Not just the actual ceremony, mind you, but the whole event. Take out the pews and you have a very attractive reception hall. Unfortunately, once I made that connection, that's all I could see. It's not a very "churchy" church.
The celebrating priest was quite a character. Stooped at a 45 degree angle, he commented that he had graduated from the seminary "59 years ago . . . no, wait . . . is that right? . . . 70! 69!" He never really decided which anniversary it was, but either way, he was certainly up there in years himself. Later, he commented in a casual aside that his teeth were loose. Had the congregation nodded sympathetically, I wouldn't have been surprised.
ATTENDANCE: Half full
The church at St. Antoninus is noticeably . . . ivory and a bit off-kilter. A large crucifix is hung not directly behind the altar but set off to the side. Recessed panels behind the altar are likewise unbalanced, with a door on just one side, opening to what appeared to be a smaller chapel. There are several large windows, but only one stained glass window, a huge circular one. It reminded me of a flower . . . or a lollipop. Lighting was helter-skelter - there were canned lights, recessed lights, hung lights reflecting upward. If there was a pattern, I couldn't find it. Looking around at St. Antoninus's church, I could easily envision a wedding party there. Not just the actual ceremony, mind you, but the whole event. Take out the pews and you have a very attractive reception hall. Unfortunately, once I made that connection, that's all I could see. It's not a very "churchy" church.
The celebrating priest was quite a character. Stooped at a 45 degree angle, he commented that he had graduated from the seminary "59 years ago . . . no, wait . . . is that right? . . . 70! 69!" He never really decided which anniversary it was, but either way, he was certainly up there in years himself. Later, he commented in a casual aside that his teeth were loose. Had the congregation nodded sympathetically, I wouldn't have been surprised.
ATTENDANCE: Half full
DURATION: 50 minutes
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