Swan Song

Week Ninety-Three - It's Official . . . I'm Old

Nothing from The List this week.  Celebrating at my son's baccalaureate mass as he graduates from high school.  Could've sworn I just dropped him off for first grade last week . . .  

Bring Flowers of the Fairest

Week Ninety-Two - Sacred Heart (Bellevue)

Note:  I forgot to publish an entry!  There it was, all nice and neat, ready to go, and there was me, thinking, "What's this draft doing on my list of posts?"   Hence, the previous "Week Ninety" is now "Week Ninety-One," and "Week Ninety" is the previously forgotten entry.  Meanwhile . . .

11:00 Sunday morning mass, Sacred Heart.  Why do I always think Bellevue is farther away than it really is?  Dumb Cincinnati girl that I am, a quick Mapquest search brings me back to reality every time - it's right there on the other side of the Big Mac bridge.  Joe's Crab Shack, Buckhead, The Party Source - all right there, all Bellevue, just like Sacred Heart Church. 

This was my third "Sacred Heart" Church . . . this one, a part of "Divine Mercy Parish."  Okay, try to stay with me here, kids, 'cause things are gonna get confusing.  The original Sacred Heart Church, the first Catholic parish in Bellevue, was erected in 1874, but to meet the needs of the growing parish, a larger church, the one I visited this weekend, was built in 1892.  Saint Anthony of Padua Church was the second parish in the city of Bellevue.  Established in 1889, Saint Anthony's was founded to meet the needs of the English-speaking Catholics of the community, Sacred Heart being a German-speaking parish.  Love that.  Meanwhile, in Dayton, Kentucky, several attempts at a third Catholic church in the area were destroyed by flooding, but amazingly, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux Church, built in 1914, survived persistent river threats and still stands today. 

Flash forward to 2001 when demographics were working against these parishes.  As young parishioners moved to the suburbs, the number of school children declined, and most of the remaining parishioners had reached their senior years.  A task force was convened from the memberships of Sacred Heart, St. Anthony, and St. Bernard parishes to discuss the future.  Two long years later, it was decided that a single parish in Bellevue would be created from Sacred Heart and St. Bernard under the name Divine Mercy Parish.  Apparently, poor St. Anthony had drawn the short straw, and the last mass at that church was celebrated in June, 2003.

A history of St. Anthony indicates that members of Divine Mercy Parish would worship at Sacred Heart, but the bulletin I picked up at Sacred Heart indicates a staggered weekend mass schedule that clearly alternates between Sacred Heart and St. Bernard.  Benediction is offered at both churches on two different days as well.  I thought it was funny to read that both churches even offer their own "prayer hotline." Seriously, would it really matter which one you called? 

And so, while I'll never get to see St. Anthony's of Bellevue, I have added Dayton's St. Bernard to The List.  This weekend, however, it was all Sacred Heart, and I have to say, I really, really liked this church.  Not a particularly big church, Sacred Heart still has to a lot to look at and admire, namely, the main altar, perhaps the most beautiful I've seen.  Imported from Austria, the spires of the altar reach a height of thirty-three feet, but what really makes it splendid is the guilding on the spires.  The gold ornamentation and the hand-carved statues make it truly, truly beautiful.  I've never seen anything like it. 

There are a lot of statues at Sacred Heart.  St. Francis, St. Therese, and a unique statue of, what else, the Sacred Heart all caught my eye.  Large stations of the cross imported from Germany are also impressive.  Pictures depicting the life of Christ line the walls of the church just above the wainscoting.  They looked darkened and aged but were a unique feature that I had never seen before.  The stained glass windows weren't my favorite, but I'll forgive them because I'm still thinking about the altar. 

A small adult choir led the congregation and gave a nice performance  The hymns seemed to float upward just perfectly.  My daughter and I couldn't decide if the presiding priest had an accent or not.  Either way, I liked to hear him speak.  Much like everyone there, he was casual and friendly in his homily.  He also gave the most reverent and sincere Final Doxology ever.  It seems odd to say that, but it was so noticeable I had to mention it.

Entering Sacred Heart Church, there was once again a brief moment of panic when several little girls in First Communion dresses and little boys in suits were spotted.  It wasn't a First Communion celebration, however - it was a May Crowning.  This was my lucky day because I like May Crownings.  I like the whole idea of devoting the month of May to Mary.  There were lots of flowers for Mary on this particular Sunday, and all the big May Crowning hits were included:  "On This Day, O Beautiful Mother," "Bring Flowers of the Fairest."  It was nice. 

Maybe it was the rare sunshine on Sunday.  Maybe it was the May Crowning.  Maybe I was just in a good mood.  Whatever it was, it was a good morning.        
 

ATTENDANCE:  Comfortably full

DURATION:  One hour and five minutes

The Very Merry Month of May

Week Ninety-One - Things Always Happen in Threes

Off the circuit this week . . . might miss next week . . . and will definitely miss the week after that. Shoot. I did eat at a Jewish deli . . . does that count for anything?

That Gleaming Candlelight, Still Burning Bright

Week Ninety - Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross



5:00 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Teresa Benedicta.  I had never heard of Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, the saint or the parish, but with nothing on the agenda - on my birthday, of all things (51, thank you) - it was time to cross state lines and see what STTBOTC (seriously, that's what they use on their website) was all about.  A pleasant drive to Bright, Indiana, brought us to the newest church I've been to thus far.  First, though, a bit of background.  

It seems to me that I had vaguely heard of Edith Stein, but I couldn't have told you anything about her.  I especially couldn't have told you that she and Saint Teresa Benedicta are one and the same.  Born to Jewish parents in 1891, Edith Stein converted to Catholicism at age 30 and eleven years later, entered a cloistered Carmelite community.  Having been strongly influenced by the autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila, Edith chose the religious name of "Teresia Benedicta ac Cruce" or "Teresa Blessed by the Cross."  In 1942, when the Nazis arrested all Catholics of Jewish heritage, Edith was transported by cattle train to the Auschwitz death camp where she died one week later in the gas chambers.  Pope John Paul II canonized St. Teresa Benedicta in 1998. 

And so, we have a recently canonized saint, and if a church promotes a recently canonized saint as their patron, it's naturally going to be a fairly new church.  Exhibit A:  St. Teresa Benedicta.  STTBOTC is indeed very new.  Unfortunately, I can't tell you exactly how new because it wasn't until I got home that I realized my daughter, who had accompanied me, and I had read the cornerstone two different ways - I thought it said "2000," but she thought it said "2009."  Either way, you're not going to find a lot of history here.  What you will find is the Ryan Homes version of a church - a lot of drywall on the inside and a lot of aluminum on the outside.  

Going to mass at St. Teresa didn't really feel like going to mass.  It was kind of like going to mass in a hotel conference room - a perfectly square room of minimal decor, nothing fancy but attractive and well-kept nonetheless.  It was kind of like going to mass in someone's remodeled family room - with new carpeting and a dropped ceiling with inset lighting fixtures.   It was kind of like going to mass in an airport, not because of the size - it's not a big place at all - but because of the seating, i.e., interlocking upholstered plastic chairs.  The result is, in effect, continuous rows of seating made up of individual chairs.  The chairs are really only detectable as single units because of the individual kneeler attached to the back of each one.  These kneelers were definitely the highlight of the trip.  Not your standard "up-or-down" kneelers, these babies unfolded from their upright positions - "ka-chink."  The Kneel-O-Matic 2000.  Noisy little devils, but definitely amusing the first few times you get to use them. 

There are a few candles, two statues - Mary and Joseph, a nice tabernacle, and a beautiful crucifix.  Teeny tiny stations of the cross line the blank walls.  There are exactly six small paned windows, three on each side, and an additional door on each side.  Everything is so new and so . . . purposeful.  It's easy to imagine someone going to the "church store" and picking out everything you need for a church - "I'll take one of those . . . and two of those . . . and I'm required to have one of those . . . and I'll probably need a few of those." 
    
Clearly, this was a church built on a budget, built to meet the need for a Catholic church in the area, and based on attendance this particular Saturday, St. Teresa seems to be a success.  In a time when so many churches are closing, I like the idea of a brand new parish.  It must be exciting to work in this fledgling community, trying so hard to generate interest and enthusiasm, trying to make it work.  It must be a challenge for the pastor of STTBOTC as well.  The celebrating priest at this mass seemed happy enough, even with his arm in a sling (following arthroscopic surgery, as he explained).  The fact that he was operating at only half-capacity with one hand may have slowed things down though.  That and his homily which drove home a point over and over and over again.  Things started out so well too - I was really enjoying listening to him and what he had to say . . . until he said it for the umpteenth time.  

Overall, St. Teresa Benedicta gets an A for effort.  It's hard being the new kid on the block.  If nothing else, I like Bright, Indiana, mainly because of the name.  It has such a positive connotation.  Speaking of the positive, in the flurry of activity last week, I forgot the best part of the visit to Sts. Peter and Paul - one of the ushers.  How adorable is it when, at the end of mass, this guy not only stocks the "bulletin holders" with the weekly bulletins but counts out the appropriate number for each pew and hands them out - you know - "take one and pass it on."  Now that's service.  Then, as my son and I were exiting the church, I hear him calling after us and turn to see him hanging his head out the door, "You guys come back next week!  We're gonna have a whole new show, and it's gonna be a good one!"  How can you not love that?  Maybe I should be writing about the parishioners and not the churches!                  
               

ATTENDANCE:  Half full

DURATION:  One hour and five minutes

This is My Body, Given Up for You

Week Eighty-Nine - Saints Peter and Paul

4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, Sts. Peter and Paul.  So much to write about this week!  I'll start by saying more churches should include a parish history on their website.  It makes such a difference in one's impression of a parish, and Saints Peter and Paul is a prime example. 

Like its surrounding neighborhood of Reading, Sts. Peter and Paul isn't anything fancy.  Landlocked in a working-class subdivision of narrow, one-way streets, it's easy to hear the whistle of a nearby train.  A lot adjacent to the visibly abandoned parish school provides convenient parking.  I had hopes that, as an older church, Sts. Peter and Paul might be a hidden gem, an overlooked work of art and architecture, both on the inside and the out.  Well, the outside isn't bad . . . the inside needs a little work.  Bingo-hall, shoulder-height wood paneling covers the walls, and above that, everything, to the highest point of the ceiling, is solid yellow.  I'm honestly not sure if it's supposed to be yellow or if things had just, well, you know . . . yellowed.  Either way, it could use a good coat of paint.  Decor is minimal - statues of Mary and Joseph and, I assume, Peter and Paul, a few candles.  The possibilities are there, but clearly, the resources aren't.  Sts. Peter and Paul was about to be filed away in my mental archives of sad churches.  Then I read the parish history.

Kudos to whomever is responsible for the online parish history of Sts. Peter and Paul, undoubtedly one of the longest and most detailed histories I've come across.  Reading through the multiple pages of the 160-year parish history was both interesting and enlightening.  The parish was originally founded in 1850 as the Church of the Fourteen Martyrs.  I had never heard of the Fourteen Martyrs, ergo, more digging.  The Fourteen Martyrs, aka the Fourteen Holy Helpers, have "special intercessory powers . . . for numerous special needs," needs that apparently reached their peak during the Black Plague of the mid-1300's.  Yikes.  St. Barbara, St. Blaise, St. Catherine, St. Christopher.  There's a lot of big names here, and reading their stories is fascinating in itself.  "They are invoked for throat ailments, lightning, diabolical possession, fire, etc."  Diabolical possession?       

In 1860, the Church of the Fourteen Martyrs was destroyed by a "cyclone", and a new larger church was built on the same site.  The name, Saints Peter and Paul, was agreed on because "it was too difficult to determine when to celebrate the anniversary of the Fourteen Martyrs."  Funny.  I also like that the word "cyclone" was used.  I'm pretty sure they didn't have tornadoes in the 1800's.  In 1887, an addition to the church was completed by then pastor, Father Charles Weiderhold, who had been "secretly ordained" in Germany in 1876, making him secretly awesome. 

In May of 1914, as the janitor was going to ring the bells for May Devotions, a bolt of lightning struck the tower.  Responding fire companies were unable to reach the flames, and the whole tower crashed to the ground.  No word on the janitor.  Ultimately, a new, albeit smaller, tower was built and four new bells installed.  The largest, weighing in at 2,000 pounds, is named Mary.  Joseph weighs 1,200 pounds, Peter, 600 pounds, and our lightweight, Paul, 400 pounds.  I. Am. Dying.  Do all bells have names?!  I've only been able to find one reference to this bell-naming thing.  What gives?  The bells were briefly on display in the schoolyard where, for 25 cents, parishioners had the opportunity to ring any one of them, as if anyone wouldn't choose to ring Mary.

A new auditorium, constructed in 1924, included - get this - a bowling alley and a billiards room.  Two baseball diamonds were built - one for the boys and one for the girls.  At the funeral for one of the church's pastors, it was reported that one of the "surprises" was the the presiding archbishop delivering his sermon in English.  I love these details.  There are so many, too many to list here, so I'll direct you to www.saintspeterandpaulreading.com/History.htm if you want to read more.  It really takes you back to a different time. 

I found it interesting to read that, as recently as 1998, the parish was growing at a rapid rate, much of it attributed to the presence of Father Jim Willig, a well-known and much-loved priest and charismatic speaker.  Although the school was forced to close in 2007, the current pastor has brought the church back into the black financially.  So I was wrong.  Saints Peter and Paul has struggled through adversity and celebrated in triumph.  This is a parish of great history, a parish much stronger than I realized, and I now have a new respect for them.  Pass the crow.

And so, the truth comes out.  I'm a church snob.  I look at the externals and, without knowing any better, often fail to recognize the internals.  Personal fault and something to work on.  Lucky for me, this past Sunday, the second Sunday of Easter, was also Divine Mercy Sunday, something else I had never taken note of before, which isn't all that unforgiveable (no pun intended) seeing that the observance was only formally established in 2000 by Pope John Paul II.  "All the divine floodgates through which grace flow are opened . . . [with] complete forgiveness of sins and punishment"  for those that go to confession and receive holy communion.  According to Saint Faustina, a major player in the whole mercy deal, Jesus himself requested that people honor the Divine Mercy on the Sunday after Easter.  I like the concept of Divine Mercy Sunday.  I love the mental images associated with it.  Now, if I could just work up my nerve to go to confession.  I'm a little out of practice. 

Finally, there was a brief moment of panic as my son and I entered Sts. Peter and Paul when we realized the mass was also a First Communion celebration.  Images of past First Communions immediately flooded back, images of meticulously choreographed spectacles that drag on ad infinitum.  Even my own First Communion, 40+ years ago, was quite the to-do with over 100 second-graders all dressed up and ready to go.  As for this particular First Communion - false alarm.  The first communicants processed in - all eight of them, seven girls and one lone boy, although in actuality, there were twenty children making their First Communion at Sts. Peter and Paul this particular weekend.  The others would be "celebrating" (and I use the term loosely) at one of the two Sunday morning masses.  The eight at this particular mass sat with their families towards the front of the church . . . and that was about it.  The waaaaaay-to-wordy sermon made no mention of them or their special occasion.  Hymns were standard, old-school post-Easter selections.  And, when the big moment came, they made their way to the front of the church with the rank and file just like they had been doing it for years.  No fanfare, nothing.  I actually felt kind of bad for them.  Of course, I'm sure they didn't mind.  Everybody knows that, for these kids, First Communion is really about the party at home.  Reminds me of Frank McCourt's First Communion story in his autobiography, Angela's Ashes. "Now Grandma says she has God in her backyard." Classic. 
      

ATTENDANCE:  Comfortably full, although many may have been guests of the First Communicants

DURATION:  One hour, ten minutes