Plan B

Week Seventy-Six - Nativity
      

4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, Nativity.  No, this is not the church I had planned to visit this week.  An odd assortment of other weekend events made the timing all wrong for my intended visit elsewhere.  The runner-up? "Nativity," as indicated on their website . . . or "Nativity of Our Lord," as indicated on their church bulletin . . . or "Church of the Nativity," as indicated on the inside of their church bulletin.  Really?  Is it too much to ask for a little continuity?

NATIVITY in Pleasant Ridge was surprisingly newer and bigger than I expected.  My husband commented that it was one of the "wider" churches he had been in so far - he didn't get to experience the vast expanse of  St. Maximillian's church.  Nativity is a perfectly square church.  Four huge supports run from each of the corners, meeting in a slightly raised point at the center.  Aesthetically speaking, it isn't pretty, and to be honest, "pretty" probably isn't a word that gets used a whole lot here.

The mostly-barren wall behind the altar - and, recall, it's a big, wide wall - is solid, brick-red in color.  On the brick-red wall is a crucifix hung disproportionately high for its mediocre size.  The crucifix is different enough itself, but it's what's below that crucifix that really caught me off-guard:  a large multi-colored Star of David, a Star of David with all sorts of . . . rays and . . . and . . . stuff coming off of it is.  What the heck?  This was clearly the focal point of the sanctuary.  Whether it was intended to be or not, it just was because there was no avoiding it.  It was just so . . . odd.

Minimal stained glass windows hang in "fringe" around the perimeter of the church.  There's really no other way to describe it - "fringe."  I couldn't find any statues or candles until I was in line to receive communion.  Off to the side are two small alcoves, each holding a statue - one with Joseph and one with Mary - and each with a "tree" of ten votive candles.  I felt bad for Mary and Joseph.  Each of the stations of the cross consisted of a simple wooden cross with a Roman numeral below it.  The minimalism was killing me here. 

The mass itself was uneventful.  I liked the way the woman soloist sang.  She really put feeling into the lyrics of the hymns and sang with a certain emotion and cadence that I hadn't heard before.  I was briefly concerned when the celebrating priest took a seat to deliver his homily, thinking if he's getting comfortable, this could be a long one, but that wasn't the case at all.  His homily was fairly brief, to the point, and spoken with clarity and volume. 

The church was fairly full for this Saturday afternoon mass, and for the first time, the seniors may have been in the minority.  Somehow, my husband and I ended up surrounded by about twenty eighth-graders.  There was no question that these kids were Nativity eighth-graders -  the attitude just oozed out of them: "WE RUN THIS CHURCH."  They were good kids, all sitting together.  Two of them carried up the offertory gifts, two were communion distributors, and almost all of them opened the hymnals and joined in the songs.  I don't know if they meet for mass like that every weekend or if there was something special still to come for the group.  Either way, it was a nice change of scenery.
   

ATTENDANCE:  Half full

DURATION:  50 minutes

Planning Ahead

Week Seventy-Five - Next!

A week off, but I already know where I'm headed next week!

California Dreamin'

Week Seventy-Four - Saint Jerome

5:00 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Jerome.  I definitely have a soft spot for the little churches.  Many people don't even know these little guys exist, but when you do and you find them, it's like finding a hidden treasure.  St. Jerome is one of those treasures.  It also wins the prize for "smallest church."

On St. Jerome's website (surprisingly, they have one) is a greeting:  "We are small, simple, and friendly.  Enjoy a great Mass in a warm church."  "Small" and "simple" were accurate, "friendly" has a story attached to it - more on that later, but "warm"?  Not so much.  In the physical sense of the word, warm was clearly not an option, at least not on this particular weekend.  Guess you have to save money somewhere, and apparently it was on the heating bills because it was noticably cold inside.  In addition, early on, there was an emotional chill that ran through the air.  A group of senior men were enjoying quite a social hour at the back of church before mass - hence, the "friendly."  These same men had welcomed me and kidded with my husband as we entered the church.  I didn't mind the convivial atmosphere; I even laughingly commented on the happy noise level to my husband.  Not a minute later, however, the resident priest appeared, letting out a booming "QUIET DOWN!  WE'RE IN CHURCH!"  The boys gave a sheepish "Sorry, Father" in response.  I looked at my husband.  "Was he kidding?" I whispered.  As silence enveloped us, my husband stated the obvious, "I don't think so."  Yikes.  Flashback to parochial grade school.  Was this  priest, a gruff, elderly gentleman, one who could strike fear into the hearts of grown men?  Well, I'm not sure because once mass got under way, I was impressed by his speaking skills and, after mass, by his kind demeanor.  Who knows.

Back to the church.  I absolutely love the byline on St. Jerry's sign:  "The little brick church by the side of the road."  Yup, that pretty much sums it up.  It's not a pretty church, its interior highlighted with an Easter Sunday array of pastel colors, but somehow, in a very, very small space, they still managed to include all the basics - six stained glass windows (three on each side), a statue of Mary and a statue of Joseph, the stations of the cross, two candles on the altar, and a tabernacle.  There were all of eleven pews on either side of the center aisle, each holding a maximum of six people.  My Husband the Heathen was thrown by the permanent kneelers, i.e. they didn't "fold up," as he put it.  I have to admit - I haven't seen that before either.  There was even a small balcony from which the music accompaniment originated.  A rather jazzy organ and simple guitar accompaniment were actually quite fitting to the setting - small and simple.  The gentleman leading the singing had a voice perfect for the location, taking you out of Ohio and - hokey as it sounds - back to a simpler time.

St. Jerome's weekly bulletins list not only the previous week's collection but the number of collection envelopes used that week.  I looked back at the bulletin archives for a few weeks.  The total collection averaged between $2,000 and $3,000 with around 50 envelopes used each week.  On Christmas, the church took in over $4,000.  The "loose cash" amounts that went into those totals, that is, the "non-envelope" contributions, were minimal, so I was impressed by the generosity of the parishioners to their "little brick church by the side of the road."    

At the end of 2009, the future of St. Jerome Church looked bleak.   A decision to close the church seemed imminent, but the parishioners wanted to save the church.  Committees were formed, surveys were taken, and plans were submitted, revised, and resubmitted.  It was eventually decided that St. Jerome would operate as a "mission church" of Guardian Angels Parish, just a short distance away.  It had to be a relief to those faithful parishioners when, in June of 2010, Archbishop Schnurr issued a decree which allowed St. Jerome to be "open for worship for the forseeable future."  How can you not root for this little underdog? 

ATTENDANCE:  Almost full . . . which is to say, less than 100

DURATION:  One hour

The Big Guns

Week Seventy-Three - St. Mary's Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption (Covington)

4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, see above.  As the seat of the Archdiocese of Covington and the home of St. Mary's Parish, I'm sure "St. Mary's Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption" couldn't be more accurate - or wordy, so for this entry, I'll just go with the "Covington Cathedral." I do like the word "basilica" though.  According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, the term "basilica" can indicate either the architectural style of a church or its canonical status.  This bluegrass basilica meets both sets of criteria. 

There are four "major" basilicas in the world, all in Rome.  The Covington Cathedral is designated as a "minor" basilica, one of the 35 lesser basilicas in the United States.  Construction on the cathedral began in 1894 and ended in 1915.  "St. Mary's Cathedral" became a basilica in 1953.  Although it apparently is still largely unfinished even today, for the life of me, I don't know where that would be as everything here certainly looks finished, especially in the most precise, polished sense of the word. 

It really doesn't get any better than this.  80% of the walls are actually stained glass windows, over 80 of them in total, and each one of them is spectacular.  The celebrating priest even referred to one of them in his homily, pointing out a detail that would have easily been overlooked.  Of course, there's a lot that can be easily and inadvertently overlooked here.  There is just so much to see.  For many years, the north transept window, referred to as the "Great Stained Glass Window," held the honor of being the largest hand-blown stained glass window in the world.   The world, people.  THE WORLD.  Although the church's website still claims that title, other sources argue that the record-holding window is now in - of all places - a mausoleum in Illinois.  Now really, let's think about this.  If you're gonna go big, wouldn't you rather make the investment for the living than for . . . well . . . you know. 

The stations of the cross are mosaics, incredibly detailed pieces of Italian artistry, each containing 70,000 to 80,000 pieces of ceramic porcelain.  Placed at eye-level, it's easy to take a closer look at them.  Be prepared to be amazed.   Did I say there's a lot to see here?  There are arches and pillars and woodwork.  I wouldn't be surprised if the church is taller than it is long.  The lighting is also well done, perfectly highlighting many of the details within the church for even greater drama.  It's beautiful.  It really is.   

The Christmas decorations were still up, as I had hoped, but were fairly subdued - sprigs of evergreen and red ribbon on the pews, poinsettias at the altar.   I didn't get a close look, but a large nativity scene, almost life-sized, was set off to the side of the sanctuary.  

According to the cathedral's website, each of their three weekend masses is distinctly differerent from the others.  The Saturday afternoon mass is intended to be a "quiet and contemplative" mass with organ music for accompaniment.  Yes, this mass definitely fit the bill, made even more so by the small congregation.  The Covington Cathedral is a large church, not a huge one, but I was surprised by the noticeably low number in attendance.  Why wouldn't you want to come here? 

The huge pipe organ showcased in a balcony on the south side of the cathedral sounded quite good, but - for future reference - when exiting after mass, I noticed the organ sounded significantly louder - and better - the closer you were to the front of the church.  It was a traditional mass.  Hymns were oldies-but-goodies.  Even a bit of Latin showed up.  That little bit was enough to renew my interest in going to an all-Latin mass.  I've got all the details ready, but in spite of reassurances from those churches celebrating Latin masses to just "follow your neighbor's lead if you are unsure what to do," I still have to work up my nerve a bit . . . and buy a chapel veil.         

ATTENDANCE:  Mostly empty

DURATION:  One hour

A Parallel Universe

Week Seventy-Two - Our Lady of Visitation

4:00 Saturday afternoon mass, Our Lady of Visitation or Our Lady of THE Visitation, depending on whom you talk to or which sign you read along South Road.  Even the website for Visitation sends conflicting messages.  St. Ignatius has the same problem with those little "in-between words" - is it St. Ignatius Loyola or St. Ignatius OF Loyola?  You'll see it both ways, and everyone seems to have an opinion about which is correct.  Anyways . . .   

Although I've been saving a few specific churches for after Christmas in order to enjoy their Christmas decorations, a planned New Year's Day dinner at home necessitated something closer.  The answer?  Our Lady of (the) Visitation.  When it comes to west side parishes, I tend to think of St. Antoninus as "old money" and Visitation as "new money."  Based on the crowd at this mass, however, I'm not sure if my theory was right.  These people weren't flaunting any new-found wealth.  If they were living in any of the new mansion-sized homes in the area, you would never know it.  Was I wrong, or have these west-siders eaten a huge slice of humble pie? 

I'm not complaining.  It was a nice crowd - young, old, families, individuals, and it was definitely a crowd.  I'm not sure if the large number in attendance was a testament to the growth in the area or if it was just a fluke, but the church was surprisingly full.  Maybe I've just been away from the 'burbs for too long. 
Visitation is actually a good-sized church, but in my mind, I had expected a church much large, one that matched its parish population.  Assuming most of the parishioners attend weekend mass at OLV, a seating capacity of only 700 in the church might explain why this mass was so crowded.  

Built in 1962 in a cruciform design, there are definitely elements of that classic 1960's style still coming through inside of OLV.  Case in point:  Behind the statues of Mary and Joseph are panels of glistening gold.  I found the same effect behind St. Bart's tabernacle.  Visitation is definitely a visually busy church.  There are lines everywhere, almost to the point of dizziness.  Paneled wood, brick, tile, criss-cross designs, checkerboard designs, marble.  The list goes on and on.  Large banquet hall chandeliers hang above the pews providing more than ample light.  It's not gaudy, but it's not exactly refined either. 

The soloist leading the singing at this mass was a good singer . . . and a loud one.  You can blame it on the sound system, but either way, she was coming over loud and clear.  Although she never hit a wrong note, for the majority of the congregation, her soprano voice made singing along a bit difficult.  In some ways, it was just too much of a good thing.  The celebrating priest caught my attention when, in his homily - which was quite good - he mentioned the time he was living as a "hermit in the desert."  Did I hear that correctly?  Do people really do that?  

Mass was kept moving at a good clip.  Things would have probably wrapped up even quicker if not for the dedication of a new "shrine" showcasing an American flag.  I didn't completely follow the explanation of why there had never been an American flag in the church until now, but the addition of a flag seemed to be a point of pride on this particular day.  I even saw one woman wipe away a tear.    

ATTENDANCE:  Full

DURATION:  55 minutes