Week Eighty - Tradition!
Sorry, fans. Off the circuit this weekend as I fully enjoy one of my Christmas gifts with the whole family.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Oz
Week Seventy-Nine - Saint John the Evangelist (Covington)
DURATION: 50 minutes
4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, St. John the Evangelist. It's funny - the places I've found over the past seventy-nine weeks, places so close to home, places I never knew even existed, places of beauty, sometimes even places on the National Register of Historic Places. Such is the case with St. John the Evangelist Church.
Located just a very, very short distance off I-75's Pike Street Exit in Covington (as evidenced by the sign in the church's parking lot: "Additional Parking under I-75"), I have to wonder - how many times did I drive that stretch of southbound highway and absentmindedly glance at the towering steeple to my right? I do know that, from now on, it will register. From now on, I will say, "There's St. John's."
St. John's is the third oldest parish in Covington. The original church was built in 1854, but when major renovations were required because of its hillside location, the only alternative was to find a new location. Hence, the Pike Street property was purchased and the current church completed in 1924. The style of the church is "German Gothic." I don't know what the means, but it makes me think of werewolves and vampires . . . which makes no sense at all.
ATTENDANCE: One-fourthLocated just a very, very short distance off I-75's Pike Street Exit in Covington (as evidenced by the sign in the church's parking lot: "Additional Parking under I-75"), I have to wonder - how many times did I drive that stretch of southbound highway and absentmindedly glance at the towering steeple to my right? I do know that, from now on, it will register. From now on, I will say, "There's St. John's."
St. John's is the third oldest parish in Covington. The original church was built in 1854, but when major renovations were required because of its hillside location, the only alternative was to find a new location. Hence, the Pike Street property was purchased and the current church completed in 1924. The style of the church is "German Gothic." I don't know what the means, but it makes me think of werewolves and vampires . . . which makes no sense at all.
I like the exterior of St. John's more than the interior, mainly because of the statues of the four Gospel writers overlooking the main entrance of the church, something I found particularly charming. The soaring steeple is certainly impressive. According to the church's website, the proportions of the church are that of the "old masters of Medieval Architecture." To be more specific, the height of the steeple corresponds to the length of the church, both 163 feet. The things you learn.
While the interior has all the requisite bells and whistles of the churches I've become most fond of, I regret to say that St. John's didn't make my "favorites" list. Oh, there is quite a bit to see here - an altar of Italian marble, German stained glass windows, a beautiful arched wooden ceiling, but it doesn't . . . flow. It's just not one of the prettier church I've seen. I think the biggest problem for me was the overall color scheme, something that wouldn't have been my first choice at the paint store - pink and blue, and not just one, but two shades of pink. I've seen quite a few churches painted in pink, and each time, I'm baffled by it. There's also definitely something Bavarian going on here. I don't know how to explain it, and it's not a bad thing, but I've seen the painted details somewhere before . . . maybe in a bakery.
As I waited for mass to start, I pointed out to my husband a framed niche off on the right side of the church. I could see a statue within, but it was dark there, and quite a bit of "stuff" in front of it made it difficult to get a closer look. I found out later that the small alcove housed a copy of Michelangelo's Pieta. Interesting, but I'm not sure why it's that big of a deal to have a "copy" of the masterpiece. I'm holding out for the real thing.
The one thing that really caught my attention was behind the altar. There were several beautiful paintings on the dome and walls of the sanctuary, including a series of seven "birds." I say "birds" in quotes because although they clearly included bird bodies, the heads on these bodies varied. I kept looking at these bird-bodies, thinking, "The head on that one sure looks like a cat . . . and the head on that one really looks like . . . the Borden cow." A closer look as I approached the altar to receive communion confirmed my suspicions. Although I never did get a chance to see all seven, one bird-body had the head of a lion, one had the head of a cow, and one may have actually had the head of a hawk. Clearly, this is something I'm not familiar with. What gives?
St. John's is a fairly big church, especially in height. Echoes reverberated with every word spoken by the priest, making comprehension somewhat difficult. In addition, as the wooden kneelers were primarily just that - wooden, each time someone lowered a kneeler a little too fast or a little too hard, a virtual shot rang out as it hit the tile floor. Although I would estimate that no more than one-fourth of the church was filled, given the size of the church, there was still a considerable number in attendance.
When my husband and I arrived at St. John's with ample time to spare, we took a quick drive around the neighborhood. We happened to turn around in the parking lot of a condominium complex and were rewarded with the most spectacular view of Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky I have ever seen. It was a clear day, and the view stretched 180 degrees in front of me. The photo below really doesn't do it justice as it is only a portion of what lay in front of me. I'm still regretting not taking a series of photos to later assemble into a panoramic shot.
While the interior has all the requisite bells and whistles of the churches I've become most fond of, I regret to say that St. John's didn't make my "favorites" list. Oh, there is quite a bit to see here - an altar of Italian marble, German stained glass windows, a beautiful arched wooden ceiling, but it doesn't . . . flow. It's just not one of the prettier church I've seen. I think the biggest problem for me was the overall color scheme, something that wouldn't have been my first choice at the paint store - pink and blue, and not just one, but two shades of pink. I've seen quite a few churches painted in pink, and each time, I'm baffled by it. There's also definitely something Bavarian going on here. I don't know how to explain it, and it's not a bad thing, but I've seen the painted details somewhere before . . . maybe in a bakery.
As I waited for mass to start, I pointed out to my husband a framed niche off on the right side of the church. I could see a statue within, but it was dark there, and quite a bit of "stuff" in front of it made it difficult to get a closer look. I found out later that the small alcove housed a copy of Michelangelo's Pieta. Interesting, but I'm not sure why it's that big of a deal to have a "copy" of the masterpiece. I'm holding out for the real thing.
The one thing that really caught my attention was behind the altar. There were several beautiful paintings on the dome and walls of the sanctuary, including a series of seven "birds." I say "birds" in quotes because although they clearly included bird bodies, the heads on these bodies varied. I kept looking at these bird-bodies, thinking, "The head on that one sure looks like a cat . . . and the head on that one really looks like . . . the Borden cow." A closer look as I approached the altar to receive communion confirmed my suspicions. Although I never did get a chance to see all seven, one bird-body had the head of a lion, one had the head of a cow, and one may have actually had the head of a hawk. Clearly, this is something I'm not familiar with. What gives?
St. John's is a fairly big church, especially in height. Echoes reverberated with every word spoken by the priest, making comprehension somewhat difficult. In addition, as the wooden kneelers were primarily just that - wooden, each time someone lowered a kneeler a little too fast or a little too hard, a virtual shot rang out as it hit the tile floor. Although I would estimate that no more than one-fourth of the church was filled, given the size of the church, there was still a considerable number in attendance.
When my husband and I arrived at St. John's with ample time to spare, we took a quick drive around the neighborhood. We happened to turn around in the parking lot of a condominium complex and were rewarded with the most spectacular view of Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky I have ever seen. It was a clear day, and the view stretched 180 degrees in front of me. The photo below really doesn't do it justice as it is only a portion of what lay in front of me. I'm still regretting not taking a series of photos to later assemble into a panoramic shot.
See the steeple towards the left in the photo? "There's St. John's."
DURATION: 50 minutes
Monday, February 14, 2011
Order Up
Week Seventy-Eight - Saint James of the Valley (Wyoming)
4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, St. James of the Valley. Have you seen the movie, Napoleon Dynamite? Napoleon's older brother, Kip? He plays the organ and sings at St. James of the Valley - and that was just one of the things that threw me this week.
It started early on when I entered the always-charming village of Wyoming. My buffer travel time to St. James was nearly wiped out when I ended up behind a man on a motorcycle. This gentleman, decked out in his finest Bengals regalia, was, how shall we say, not small, while ironically, the motorcycle was. This man didn't so much ride on his bike as he enveloped it. I don't know if he was simply enjoying a nice drive - the weather being beautiful - or if his scooter was actually hitting maximum speed as it struggled along, but he never exceeded twenty miles per hour. It was a virtual circus act until we finally, mercifully, parted ways at St. James.
Deja vu. It's Christ the King all over again, and with a quick bit of internet research, it all made sense. The same architect who designed Christ and King designed St. James of the Valley. Yup, there's that weird overhang thingy on the left side, hovering over half the pews (I still don't get that) and the disproportionately small sanctuary. Oh, there were minor variations. While stained glass windows dominated the right side of Christ the King, St. James placed the majority of their windows on the left. There were a lot of them, although they depicted no actual pictures.
By and large, St. James was predominantly stucco, at least, I think that's what you would call it. Stucco. Gray stucco . . . everywhere, most notably on the very tall - very tall - blank wall behind the altar. Okay, it had a few swooshy lines and stars etched into it, but that was it. A large crucifix was hung on a side wall. Why would you do that? In addition, there were no statues to be found anywhere. Instead, fairly contemporary pictures of Mary and Joseph hung on posts on either side of the church. Where do brides leave their flowers for Mary? Tucked behind the frame?
Possibly the most unusual part of the church was a small rectangle, a "window," cut into the wall on the left side of the sanctuary, close to the servers' chairs. On that same wall, a door opened to a room, a room clearly visible through "the window." A ledge rested on the bottom edge of the window, and on that ledge, prior to mass, waited the chalice, the water, the wine, etc. You know what's coming. After the distribution of communion, the servers placed the "dirty dishes" on the ledge where the hands of one of the eucharistic ministers appeared from within the room to whisk them away. It was, in effect, a concession stand, a drive-thru, a cafeteria window. And it wasn't even a nice cafeteria window. It looked like someone had taken a hacksaw to the stucco and had at it. There was no frame, no effort to conceal what someone had apparently decided was a quick and efficient solution to cleaning up after the party. From my vantage point, it didn't even look level. It did look . . . well . . . tacky. Sorry.
Many of those in attendance came in after mass had started. What made this particularly awkard at St. James was that most of these people came in through the doors located slightly behind and on either side of the altar, doors that conveniently led to the parking lot. Because they were entering from the front of the church, there was no hiding a late entrance, but what made this even more awkward was the presence of motion-sensitive lights located above the interior passageways leading from these doors, so even if you tried to slip in unnoticed, it wasn't going to happen when the floodlights hit you. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. In retrospect, maybe the lights were intentional, a deterrent to late arrival. If so, they didn't work.
The celebrating priest at this mass was a detached, unemotional man, who honestly seemed to be just going through the motions. He seemed tired, often rubbing his eyes. He read his homily which lasted all of five minutes. After the elevation of the bread and wine, I noticed that he didn't genuflect. Can he not do that? I briefly researched it - the "rules" seemed a bit confusing, so I don't know. I was surprised that I noticed it at all, so it must have been unusual. Then again, everything this week was a little unusual.
ATTENDANCE: Slightly less than half fullDeja vu. It's Christ the King all over again, and with a quick bit of internet research, it all made sense. The same architect who designed Christ and King designed St. James of the Valley. Yup, there's that weird overhang thingy on the left side, hovering over half the pews (I still don't get that) and the disproportionately small sanctuary. Oh, there were minor variations. While stained glass windows dominated the right side of Christ the King, St. James placed the majority of their windows on the left. There were a lot of them, although they depicted no actual pictures.
By and large, St. James was predominantly stucco, at least, I think that's what you would call it. Stucco. Gray stucco . . . everywhere, most notably on the very tall - very tall - blank wall behind the altar. Okay, it had a few swooshy lines and stars etched into it, but that was it. A large crucifix was hung on a side wall. Why would you do that? In addition, there were no statues to be found anywhere. Instead, fairly contemporary pictures of Mary and Joseph hung on posts on either side of the church. Where do brides leave their flowers for Mary? Tucked behind the frame?
Possibly the most unusual part of the church was a small rectangle, a "window," cut into the wall on the left side of the sanctuary, close to the servers' chairs. On that same wall, a door opened to a room, a room clearly visible through "the window." A ledge rested on the bottom edge of the window, and on that ledge, prior to mass, waited the chalice, the water, the wine, etc. You know what's coming. After the distribution of communion, the servers placed the "dirty dishes" on the ledge where the hands of one of the eucharistic ministers appeared from within the room to whisk them away. It was, in effect, a concession stand, a drive-thru, a cafeteria window. And it wasn't even a nice cafeteria window. It looked like someone had taken a hacksaw to the stucco and had at it. There was no frame, no effort to conceal what someone had apparently decided was a quick and efficient solution to cleaning up after the party. From my vantage point, it didn't even look level. It did look . . . well . . . tacky. Sorry.
Many of those in attendance came in after mass had started. What made this particularly awkard at St. James was that most of these people came in through the doors located slightly behind and on either side of the altar, doors that conveniently led to the parking lot. Because they were entering from the front of the church, there was no hiding a late entrance, but what made this even more awkward was the presence of motion-sensitive lights located above the interior passageways leading from these doors, so even if you tried to slip in unnoticed, it wasn't going to happen when the floodlights hit you. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. In retrospect, maybe the lights were intentional, a deterrent to late arrival. If so, they didn't work.
The celebrating priest at this mass was a detached, unemotional man, who honestly seemed to be just going through the motions. He seemed tired, often rubbing his eyes. He read his homily which lasted all of five minutes. After the elevation of the bread and wine, I noticed that he didn't genuflect. Can he not do that? I briefly researched it - the "rules" seemed a bit confusing, so I don't know. I was surprised that I noticed it at all, so it must have been unusual. Then again, everything this week was a little unusual.
DURATION: 50 minutes
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The Grande Dame
Week Seventy-Seven - Old Saint Mary's
There really is nothing like Old St. Mary's. Dedicated in 1842, the German Catholics of Cincinnati built St. Mary's, reportedly "using bricks baked in their own kitchen ovens." I love that. The clock tower is the oldest in Cincinnati and one of the oldest in the United States. The real beauty of St. Mary's, however, is on the inside. Step through the front doors and be amazed. The spacious interior is truly incredible, richly embellished with works of arts and religious adornments from top to bottom, front to back - elaborate stained glass windows, beautiful oil paintings, countless statues of and shrines to Mary, extensive gilded details. Even the dark, wooden pews - worn, but polished - are beautiful. An immense balcony holds the second largest pipe organ in Cincinnati (Apparently, Westwood First Presbyterian Church has the largest - the nerve). The colors of St. Mary's are rich, warm, and reverent. In addition, a number of historically significant items are displayed, something my husband found interesting and took the time to check out. It's almost overwhelming.
Reading up on St. Mary's, I was intrigued to learn that the high altar is a "privileged" altar. As described on the church's website, a privileged altar is "one to which the Holy See has attached a plenary indulgence applicable only to the souls in Purgatory. Every time a requiem mass is offered on such a privileged altar a plenary indulgence is gained for the deceased for whom the mass is offered." Alrighty then. Pope Leo XIII granted such a concession to St. Mary's in 1879. I can't really fathom the whole concept, but I guess it's kind of a big deal. Not only that, but apparently, visible under that same high altar are the bones of Saint Martura, a first-century woman martyr. Now that's something you don't find everyday. I didn't get to see Saint Martura, but that tidbit combined with so many other interesting facts about Old St. Mary's might just be enough to lead me to a guided tour of the church someday.
Mentioned in the church's history is this amazing fact: in 1846, at St. Mary's Church, there were 432 baptisms, 188 marriages, and 250 funerals. Are you kidding me? Do the math. That works out to roughly 8 baptisms, 3 weddings, and 5 funerals every week! Contrast that to the paltry numbers I received just this week from St. Ignatius where, in 2010, there were 125 baptisms, 22 weddings, and 64 funerals. St. I's might be one of the larger parishes in the archdiocese today, but now I know the truth - it doesn't hold a candle to what was going on over 150 years ago!
St. Mary's still seems to be a busy place these days with a full schedule of weekday masses, vespers, novenas, and even all-night vigils, although attendance at those opportunities is questionable. The weekend masses themselves see only small congregations. The most popular weekend mass is the 9:00 Latin mass, complete with Gregorian chant, pulling in slightly over 100 people each week. The second most popular is the mass we attended, the German mass, attracting slightly less than 100 each week.
Did I know we were going to a German mass? Yes. Now let me just say, I don't speak a word of German, but I knew that, for the most part, I would have a general idea of what was being said. This was something I couldn't pass up. I initially spent a good deal of the mass straining to catch a word or two of German that I might recognize, and there were a few: "nacht," "danke," "gesundheit" - I swear, I heard it - but then the novelty wore off, and I just listened. What a fascinating way to step out of Cincinnati, if just for a short time. Although, in the big picture, the number in attendance was minimal, I was still surprised by the size of the congregation that was there. I was also surprised by the make-up of the congregation. I had expected a majority of seniors, but what I found was an almost equal number of seniors, families, and young adults, apparently all fluent in German. I watched as a little girl, no more than ten, followed along in the German missal. The young couple in front of us sang along with every German hymn. The priest, an older man, desperately clutching a cane, blew through the German prayers with ease but delivered his homily in English. Guess he wasn't that fluent.
This was a fairly traditional mass, including reception of communion at the communion rail or, as My Husband the Heathen put it, "bellying up to the bar." I probably haven't knelt at a communion rail for over forty years, but what a great feeling it was. I did have to steal a quick glance down the row to see what my options were - reception in the hand or on the tongue. For the record, both were available, and I opted for receiving the host in my hand, although I think I was in the minority.
Old St. Mary's may have achieved the impossible. Not only was I taken out of Cincinnati for a while, I was also taken back in time. How cool is that.
ATTENDANCE: Wenig
DURATION: Einstundig
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