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 CommunicantsLike 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.
DURATION: One hour, ten minutes
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