The Christmas Moose

Week Seventy-One - St. Ignatius Loyola

3:00 afternoon mass, Christmas Eve, St. Ignatius.  Well, as they say, there's no place like home for the holidays, so once again, tradition prevailed - I was off the trail but with the whole gang at St. I's earliest - and busiest - Christmas Eve mass.  They were lining the walls, standing two deep in spots, for this one, an annual rite of liturgical chaos - all this in spite of a second three o'clock mass running concurrently in the gym.  I've never been to the Christmas Eve mass held in the gym, but every year, there are reassurances that it will be conducted in a "reverential atmosphere" . . . at center court. 

The trick to attending St. I's three o'clock Christmas Eve mass in the church is to arrive early, "early" meaning "no later than two o'clock" - and I'm not kidding.  If you can't make it by two, forget it or hire a seat saver who can be there by two.  Even with your seat saver, however, you want to arrive no later than 2:30 or things can get reeeeeally ugly, just like they did this year. 

Saving seats is a tricky thing.  My daughter and I are the family's official seat savers for the boys who mercifully arrive just fifteen or twenty minutes later. An elderly gentleman in the row behind us arrived shortly after two, however, and saved the whole pew for his family.  Even with grandpa's well-intentioned gesture, this was trouble a-brewin' from the get-go, but when his family didn't arrive until nearly 2:45 (inexcusable), his countless awkward denials to those looking for a seat progressed from exasperated sighs and shaken heads from those trolling the pews to a near fist-fight and an exchange of obscenities that really embodied the Christmas spirit.  I was dying.  There was no way I could look at my husband or I would have been on the floor in hysterics. 
 
Aside from that classic piece of drama, things flowed pretty smoothly.  Well, one of the readers, an adorable little girl, did misread "the bridegroom rejoices over his bride" as "the bridge-groom rejoices over his bridge," an interesting concept in itself, and  feedback from the sound system did bring the Nicene Creed to a screeching halt, but this really was St. I's at its finest.  All the big names were there.  All the big families were there.  It was a "Greatest Hits" mass if there ever was one.  

My Husband the Heathen, back at St. Ignatius for the first time since last Easter, couldn't help but compare St. I's to the many other churches he's visited with me.  His review wasn't exactly glowing.  Of course, there is no comparison in aesthetics when you're talking about The Barrel, but when you factor in that St. I's spirit,  that Wildcat pride . . . well, that's a whole 'nother story, a story the parish can be proud of.   

ATTENDANCE:  Fire code violation

DURATION:  A mind-boggling one hour and ten minutes

Brickhouse

Week Seventy - Saint Bartholomew

5:00 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Bartholomew.  It was an uneventful outing this week with a trip to Finneytown and St. Bart's.  Years ago, I attended weekend mass at St. Bart's fairly frequently, back when they still offered a Sunday evening liturgy.  Unfortunately, that Sunday night mass is no longer an option - there really are very few of them these days - so Saturday afternoon it was.

St. Bart's is basically a big shoebox, a tall, wide rectangle with seating arranged in a semi-circle around the altar.  It is a shoebox built of bricks, lots and lots and lots of bricks.  If nothing else, it's a sturdy church.  Decor is very minimal and basic . . . and fairly dated.  Nothing has probably changed here since the church was constructed in the 1960's.  It's not a bad look - it could be worse, but it definitely showcases the style of a certain time.  

As five o'clock approached, I began to wonder if I had the time of the mass right as there were so few people in the pews .  As usual, it was me and the seniors.  It was only minutes before five that more people began to arrive.  Most annoying, it was well after mass started that many more arrived.  One family came in during the gospel; one took a seat during the homily.  It was only these late-comers that really filled in the seats in the church.  Had it not been for them, the mass would have been nearly empty.  Well-intentioned?  Maybe.  Rude?  Hmmmm.  I did see rude taken to a whole new level when a woman got up during the homily, walked to the back of the church, and returned with a bulletin which she promptly began reading.  It was an assisting deacon delivering the homily at this mass, something I'm never entirely happy with myself. With all due respect to the deacons out there, when it comes to homilies, I'm sure that what they have to say - or in this case, read (grrrr) - is certainly as valid and insightful as what the presiding priest might offer, but there's something that just seems . . . awkward about it.  It's the understudy filling in for the lead.  It's like having your next-door neighbor preach to you . . . oh wait, it is your neighbor.  Nonetheless, this woman's actions were inexcusable and embarrassing.   

It was an interesting crowd at St. Bart's. Justin Bieber was there . . . or at least a boy who thought he was Justin Bieber.  He had the hair flip down.  I loved the twins who were there.  Not just any twins but two women clearly in their "senior" years.  They were identical as identical can be - same style of dress, same height, same hair, same glasses, same face.  Adorable.

I was disappointed in my trip to St. Bart's on one major point - the music.  It's not that the music was bad.  In fact, it was quite nice, nothing bad about it.  Twenty years ago, however, St. Bart's music director was the same man who provided the music for our wedding.  I loved hearing this gentleman sing, and I had hoped he would still be there.  No such luck - at least, not at this mass.  Rats.  I felt a little better though when I spotted a Charlie Brown Christmas tree - complete with one single red ornament - on top of the organ.  That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.

ATTENDANCE:  About one-third

DURATION:  One hour

AMDG

Week Sixty-Nine - Saint Xavier

4:00 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Xavier.  What's not to love about the Jesuits?  With a Jesuit education in my own background and now that of my children as well, I have a certain fondness for the boys.  I have always found the Jesuits to be bright, dedicated, and likable - the "rock stars" of the priesthood, and so it was with great anticipation that I headed back downtown this weekend to St. Xavier Church.  I wasn't disappointed.

Founded in 1845, St. Xavier has the distinction of being Cincinnati's first Catholic church.  St. Xavier is also one of relatively few Jesuit parishes in the United States - it is technically part of the Chicago Jesuit province and not a part of the Archdiocese of Cincinnati.  What the ramifications of that are, I have no idea.  In reading over the history of the church on St. Xavier's website, my favorite part was this:  "A large mid-century influx of Irish immigrants challenged the sensibilities of Cincinnati's original German settlers.  In response, St. Louis Church . . . became the "German church" and St. Xavier the "Irish church.""  That's the Christian spirit.  Can you even imagine the things that were said?

Although it was several years ago, I had already been to St. Xavier.  Back in my working days, my coworkers and I would go to mass at St. X during our lunch hour on holydays.  I remember the interior being strikingly beautiful.  I also remember it being . . . blue, turquoise blue.  Well, it's still blue, and there's a lot of it.  Historically, the original church was all beige with a few hints of cherry red, but in 1987, the architect working on renovations to the church very purposefully chose bold colors to reflect the "medieval custom of enlivening great churches with strong colors."  I guess I can respect that, but I'm still not a fan of the color scheme. 

Even with its questionable color scheme, St. Xavier is an amazing space, what some consider the finest example of Gothic revival in Cincinnati.  Pointed arches, countless spires, gargoyles, several marble altars.  The checkered floor tiles will definitely catch your eye, and there's simply no ignoring the Jesuit presence here.  Two large stained glass windows behind the altar depict St. Ignatius and St. Francis Xavier, and a large painted mural features several of the most influential Jesuits.  There's definitely a lot to see here.  Even the lighting fixtures are cool art-deco - quite frankly, looking better suited to the Netherland Plaza than a church.  In 1882, fire (again with the fires!) gutted the interior of the church, destroying the roof and spire, but amazingly - and fortunately - all was repaired within the same year. 

There was a good number of people at this mass.  I ran into a friend there and asked her if it was always that way.  After we agreed that the forecast for snow was definitely a factor in this week's attendance, she also pointed out the popularity of St. Xavier's pastor, Father Eric Knapp, the presiding priest at this mass. "He really pulls 'em in," she said.  A video on St. X's website gave me the lowdown on Father Knapp.  Sent by the Chicago province just a few years ago to revive the parish, Father Knapp's efforts have already been incredibly successful.  Knapp has brought new life to St. X, with over 600 households registering in recent years.  126 different zip codes are now represented in the parish, and the number of younger parishioners continues to grow.  So influential is Father Knapp, not only in Catholic circles but in the revitalization of downtown, that he has received several awards for his work.  I too took an immediate liking to Father Knapp and can definitely see the draw.  He was, well . . .  peppy . . . and sharp.  He kept the mass going at a brisk pace.  He spoke loudly and clearly, and although his homily was a bit wordy, his words were intelligent and defined.  

In addition to the friend that I ran into at this mass, other friends have begun making the drive from West Chester just to go to church at St. Xavier.  A beautiful church, a charismatic pastor, and, of course, the Jesuits.  I'd say it's worth the trip.  
   

ATTENDANCE:  Two-thirds full

DURATION:  45 minutes

Et Petrus Quidem Servabatur in Carcere Vinctus Catenis

Week Sixty-Eight - Saint Peter in Chains Cathedral

4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Peter in Chains.  Well, the first significant snowfall of the year moved in this weekend, "significant" meaning "anything more than a dusting."  Therefore, being the Cincinnati native that I am, it was with some hesitancy that I ventured out, unsure as to whether the mighty Honda Odyssey could meet the challenge, but venture out I did, and of course, the roads were fine. 

My destination this week?  Cincinnati's cathedral, St. Peter in Chains.  Truth be told, I probably could have stayed home and just as accurately written this entry.  I've been to the cathedral more than a few times - for weekend masses, for weddings, confirmations, baccalaureates, even concerts and art exhibits - but, in the spirit of the tour, I wanted to make the "official" visit. 

A Cincinnati police officer stood guard outside of the front door of the cathedral, something that both reassured and worried me.  Ahh, life in the big city.  Upon entering, the faithful were directed via signs to "Please take a seat at the front of the church."  The signs seemed redundant, as there really was no other option available - roughly two-thirds of the pews had been cordoned off.  Even with the seating significantly limited, however, the church remained mostly empty.  I counted no more than 60 or 70 in attendance.  Granted, it was a cold and snowy day, at the height of the holiday shopping season, no less.  Even more demanding, "Redsfest" was going on right down the street.  This annual homage to everything Reds had entirely slipped my mind until a nice middle-aged couple sat down in the pew in front of me.  Outfitted in parkas and hats, boots and gloves, and lugging their umbrellas and souvenir nylon Reds bags filled to the brim, these diehard Reds fans had obviously walked the few blocks from the convention center to the cathedral for mass.  There was also no questioning their team loyalty when the woman slipped off her coat to reveal her best Reds' jersey underneath.  It was the type of thing you break out only for the most special of occasions, and clearly, this had been one of them.  "VOTTO 19" stared at me for the rest of the mass.  

In terms of aesthetics, I've never been a big fan of the cathedral.  A lot of money has been poured into the construction, restoration, and enhancement of the church, including over five million dollars in the 1950's to bring the church back up to speed after it was abandoned and fell into disrepair when the cathedral's location became "less than fashionable."  According to the cathedral's website, "long-closed old quarries" were even reopened to provide the same limestone as that used in the original construction.  Yes, I suppose things like that would run up the bill.  

Still, the Grecian architecture, both inside and out, just doesn't do much for me.  Oh, all the design details are there, beautiful in their own way, but I've always found the cathedral rather somber and serious and, in some respects, creepy, especially the hieroglyphic murals on the side walls.  I will say that the huge mosaic behind the similarly huge altar is pretty cool though.  I don't know.  Maybe it's all part of an image the cathedral is trying to project, an image of dignity and class.  It would be interesting to know how many parishioners versus visitors attend mass there every weekend.  Assuming that the visitor count is fairly high, I suppose you would want to look your best when company's coming over.  Tours are offered to the public on the second Sunday of the month after the 11:00 mass.  I would like to take one sometime to gain a better appreciation and knowledge of the cathedral.   

The mass itself matched the seting - dignified and reverent with a formality that was maintained in every aspect of the liturgy, from the traditional organ accompaniment to the readings by the lectors.  Granted, it wasn't the most exciting liturgy I've ever been to, but it seemed setting-appropriate.  A contemporary mass would have seemed almost sacrilegious.

One last thing.  The web site of St. Peter in Chains claims that Cincinnatians have always referred to the cathedral as "The "White Angel."  Hold the phone.  Having lived in Cincinnati as a practicing Catholic for half a century now, let me just say I have never used or even heard that phrase before in my life, and I seriously doubt that anyone else has either . . . have they?    

ATTENDANCE:  Mostly empty

DURATION:  55 minutes