Week Eighty-Five - Saint Veronica
4:00 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Veronica. Knocked a big one off the list this week, not in terms of the physical size of the church, but in terms of mileage to get there. Seriously? Clermont County? Not only is this little hobby of mine eating up more and more of my time each weekend, it's running up quite a gasoline tab. It was a nice day, however, so the ride was a pleasant one, taking me to places I had never been before, among them St. Veronica Church.
My daughter has a friend who is a parishioner at St. Veronica. As he likes to say, "She wiped that face," a phrase to be read with a considerable amount of sass. St. Veronica's parish dates back to 1947 when donations from St. Martin's parish in Cheviot (what?) and from John Wargo in Pennsylvania (huh?) were used to purchase property in Mount Carmel and to build a church. The church was initially to be named after St. Patrick but, in memory of Wargo's mother, St. Veronica was chosen instead. I'm sure the money had nothing to do with it. The current church was dedicated in 1985, with numerous additional buildings completed since then.
A sprawling, well-kept campus, everything at St. Veronica is clearly-marked, orderly, and new, and everything matches! You don't see that much. As a result, the exterior is quite attractive. I was impressed. Entering St. Veronica's church, however, prompted another unfortunate episode of deja vu. There's a certain generation of churches that all look the same, and this was definitely one of them. I've seen this church before, although I'm having a hard time pinpointing exactly where - to be honest, they're all starting to blend together. The panoramic Wall of Brick behind the altar is a rerun, St. Veronica punctuating their span of bricks with nothing more than two very prominent listings of the hymns to be sung. The shallow, rectangular windows - also familiar, although a splash of color was incorporated with the inclusion of non-descript stained glass. A ceiling of wooden panels and beams seems to be standard for churches built in the 80's, and St. Veronica's was no exception. A skylight running the length of the center aisle was nice, but, for some reason, it also unnervingly reminded me of St. Joseph's in North Bend. Statues? Only two in the rear of the church - Mary and, I'm guessing, Veronica. Kneelers? Nada. Votive candles? I didn't see any. Did I mention the lights looked like peanut butter cups?
Music was adequate. The inclusion of what I finally decided was a clarinet was not a good choice, however (is it ever?), and there was an awkward hesitancy among the members of the group which didn't help things. Although the church was nearly filled to capacity, vocal contributions from the congregation were minimal. Oddly enough, however, a considerable amount of other noise and inattention was noticeable - whispering, disagreements between parents and children, restless youngsters - but I guess you get that with a crowd that large. I will add that it was a friendly group, everyone smiling and greeting the newcomers, i.e. yours truly and the mister. That's something I always notice, and it was nice.
I'm currently reading Irving Stone's The Agony and the Ecstasy in which Michelangelo makes the statement that "the importance of a church is in its artwork." Of course, that's Michelangelo talking, but if that was the case? . . . St. Veronica would barely be on the radar. Pleasant? Effective? Yeah, I'll give 'em that. So, sure, you can go to mass here, but I doubt if you'll remember it.
ATTENDANCE: Comfortably fullMy daughter has a friend who is a parishioner at St. Veronica. As he likes to say, "She wiped that face," a phrase to be read with a considerable amount of sass. St. Veronica's parish dates back to 1947 when donations from St. Martin's parish in Cheviot (what?) and from John Wargo in Pennsylvania (huh?) were used to purchase property in Mount Carmel and to build a church. The church was initially to be named after St. Patrick but, in memory of Wargo's mother, St. Veronica was chosen instead. I'm sure the money had nothing to do with it. The current church was dedicated in 1985, with numerous additional buildings completed since then.
A sprawling, well-kept campus, everything at St. Veronica is clearly-marked, orderly, and new, and everything matches! You don't see that much. As a result, the exterior is quite attractive. I was impressed. Entering St. Veronica's church, however, prompted another unfortunate episode of deja vu. There's a certain generation of churches that all look the same, and this was definitely one of them. I've seen this church before, although I'm having a hard time pinpointing exactly where - to be honest, they're all starting to blend together. The panoramic Wall of Brick behind the altar is a rerun, St. Veronica punctuating their span of bricks with nothing more than two very prominent listings of the hymns to be sung. The shallow, rectangular windows - also familiar, although a splash of color was incorporated with the inclusion of non-descript stained glass. A ceiling of wooden panels and beams seems to be standard for churches built in the 80's, and St. Veronica's was no exception. A skylight running the length of the center aisle was nice, but, for some reason, it also unnervingly reminded me of St. Joseph's in North Bend. Statues? Only two in the rear of the church - Mary and, I'm guessing, Veronica. Kneelers? Nada. Votive candles? I didn't see any. Did I mention the lights looked like peanut butter cups?
Music was adequate. The inclusion of what I finally decided was a clarinet was not a good choice, however (is it ever?), and there was an awkward hesitancy among the members of the group which didn't help things. Although the church was nearly filled to capacity, vocal contributions from the congregation were minimal. Oddly enough, however, a considerable amount of other noise and inattention was noticeable - whispering, disagreements between parents and children, restless youngsters - but I guess you get that with a crowd that large. I will add that it was a friendly group, everyone smiling and greeting the newcomers, i.e. yours truly and the mister. That's something I always notice, and it was nice.
I'm currently reading Irving Stone's The Agony and the Ecstasy in which Michelangelo makes the statement that "the importance of a church is in its artwork." Of course, that's Michelangelo talking, but if that was the case? . . . St. Veronica would barely be on the radar. Pleasant? Effective? Yeah, I'll give 'em that. So, sure, you can go to mass here, but I doubt if you'll remember it.
DURATION: One hour
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