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?
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
No comments:
Post a Comment