It's Not the Heat, It's the Humidity

Week One Hundred and One - Which May Also Have Been the High Temperature This Week

Problem:  The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.  Solution:  Taking a week off. 

Mudville

Week One Hundred - Saint Simon
                       

7:30 Saturday evening mass, St. Simon.  I know, I know - I've already visited St. Simon ("Simon Says," September, 2009), but there were so many reasons to go back this weekend that a rerun was just going to have to be tolerated.  Unfortunately, those reasons didn't quite pan out the way I thought they would.

St. Simon's parish festival has always been held in the middle of July, and the fam has made a tradition of stopping by said festival for one reason and one reason alone - the grilled corn.  Nothing quite like St. Simon corn.  My Husband the Heathen lives for St. Simon's corn.  He talks about it, plans for it, probably dreams about it.  Clear the decks because This. Was.The Weekend.  Now, in retrospect, it's true that I had seen no advertising for St. Simon's festival this year nor any mention of their festival in church bulletins, but it was indicated in St. Simon's own bulletin that the drawing for the "major award" would be Sunday, July 17th.  Thus, I assumed (oh, no . . . ) that the presence of a "major award," not to mention one given away on a Sunday, translated to "festival weekend."  Wouldn't you?  Sooooo, hey, seeing that it's my "centennial" church tour weekend, won't it be fun for the whole family to go to mass together at one of my favorite churches on a nice Saturday evening and then snarf down massive quantities of corn after mass?

Epic fail.

Trouble from the get-go when my son opted to go out with friends.  I really didn't mind - he had been wanting to do something with them for a while.  Then, Dad offered to stay back at home and hang out with him until he left.  I really didn't mind that either - I hate when one person is left behind anywhere.  Okay, on to Plan B then - my daughter and I will go to mass at St. Simon, and Dad will meet up with us later for maize. 

As we approached St. Simon, I believe the conversation went something like this: 
Me:  "We might have to park across the street at the school if it's crowded."
Daughter:  "That's okay.  It'll be worth it.  I didn't eat much earlier to save room for the corn."
Me:  "Gee, there's no one in the school's lot . . . there's hardly anyone here at all . . . I don't think I see a festival."
Daughter:  "You probably just can't see it from here.  I wore a black shirt in case I drip butter on it."
Me:  "Ummm . . . There is no festival."
(pause)
Daughter:  "Should I call Dad?"

It's true that every year, St. Simon's festival had slowly diminished in size.  I had even joked with my husband earlier on Saturday that this year's offering might be a lone hot dog stand with a split the pot booth.  I overestimated . . . a lot.  Not sure how a "major award" ties in to all this.  Doesn't a "major" award imply the existence of "minor" awards? But there was definitely no festival . . . and no corn.   Shoot.

Further compounding the gustatorial disappointment was the emotional heartbreak at seeing the condition of St. Simon's pastor.  I love this guy, and among other reasons, on this cinematically noteworthy weekend, I partially wanted to see him just to confirm my recollection of his eerie likeness to Albus Dumbledore (courtesy of Michael Gambon, not Richard Harris).  It's true that Father's health has been a bit of a roller coaster over the years, but the last time I visited St. Simon, albeit two years ago, he seemed better than ever.  Sadly, something has clearly gone terribly awry over those last two years as he is once again dependent on a cane as well as the arm of an assistant to shuffle the minimal number of steps possible.  He stands only when walking, taking a seat to lead the liturgy, read the gospel, deliver a very brief homily, and even pray the eucharistic prayer.  Even over a sound system, his voice is barely audible.  The mass is a quick one, only, I believe, because every effort is made to keep it that way for the benefit of the ailing pastor. 

I really like St. Simon Church.  Always have, always will, and returning there for the first time in a while reminded me of how much I like it.  Unfortunately, I can't help but wonder what the future holds for this unassuming parish.  Ever so slowly, they seem to be closing up shop, barely hanging on, much as their pastor is doing the same.  I had hoped this weekend's church outing would be a positive, happy one, but instead, it just left me feeling sad. 
     
ATTENDANCE:  Three-fourths full

DURATION:  35 minutes.  Seriously.

Home Sweet Home

Week Ninety-Nine - Bellarmine Chapel

7:00 Sunday evening mass, Bellarmine Chapel or Saint Robert Bellarmine Parish, if you will.  Bellarmine Chapel is located at the center of the campus of Xavier University.  The spiritual heart of the university, Bellarmine Chapel has always been best associated with XU, but Bellarmine is also a Jesuit parish in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, drawing over 700 families from neighborhoods scattered throughout Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. 

When classes are in session at Xavier, Campus Ministry offers two additional masses for the students on Sunday (as well as one additional each weekday).  One of the Sunday masses, a ten o'clock evening mass, is quite the place to be.  Students know to arrive well in advance of ten o'clock if they even want a chance at a seat - this gig is SRO every Sunday.  They also know better than to show up in sweats and a t-shirt.  A few years ago, a group of Xavier students wrote and performed "Xavier:  The Musical," a series of skits satirizing all that is Xavier.  One of the skits, "10 p.m. Mass," pretty much summarizes the Sunday night liturgy:  

See?  You have to hand it to the kids though.  Here are college students, out on their own, willingly, eagerly, going to mass.  And mind you, this is a mass that often runs close to an hour and twenty minutes in length.  You can thank the always-charismatic president of Xavier, Father Michael Graham, the usual celebrant for the ten o'clock, for that.   

The 7:00 evening mass is a little different than what the ten o'clock mass brings in but not by much.  When the entire clan visited this weekend, we found a well-dressed albeit casual congregation.  An interesting group to be sure, and I mean that in the most positive of terms.  There were families and singles, children and seniors, empty-nesters and, as always, students.  More importantly, however, there were the earth mothers, the movers and shakers, those individuals who really want to make a difference in their community.  You can just tell who they are, but I also know because I recognized a few of those in attendance, and they are, in fact, "making a difference."

To be a parishioner of Bellarmine is to possess a certain attitude that says "I care," "I care about what happens both within these church walls and outside of these church walls."  These people clearly love their parish and, quite frankly, love being Catholic.  The enthusiasm is palpable.  They are happy to be at mass, at Bellarmine, a fact most evident in their spoken and sung participation in the mass.  Bellarmine isn't a big place, so that alone may contribute to the excellent acoustics, but, either way, the volume generated is impressive and powerful.  It was awkward not knowing most of the selected songs for the evening because I may have literally been the only one not singing.

Oh, of course, there are a few items in my "dislike" column.  Still not too big on the touch-feely stuff, and you can be sure there's a lot of that going on here, including the dreaded  "Take a moment and greet those around you."  I was reluctantly impressed when the woman in front of me remembered my name at the sign of peace.  I was disappointed to receive a standard issue wafer of communion in my hand.  Years ago, Bellarmine always shared an actual loaf of bread at the eucharist.  There is no crucifix.  There used to be a crucifix.  Now, a giant plus-sign stands behind the altar, an apparent move by the always-welcoming Bellarmine community to remain . . . well, welcoming to all.  Personally, I don't get it.  

My biggest problem with Bellarmine is the actual physical church and the inevitable "M" word.  Built in 1962, it's a modern one.  Ugh.  There's virtually nothing attractive about the interior, although renovations completed a few years ago did add a nice welcoming area.  The exterior is a hoot.  The roof in the form of a hyperbolic paraboloid is kind of retro-cool, if only for the stories of students over the years riding their bikes on the roof.  Ah, youth . . .    

The Jesuits always have a certain appeal, and maybe that's part of the draw here, but Bellarmine is a vibrant, youthful, active community - always has been, always will be - that pulls in a certain demographic in terms of attitude and commitment.  I feel slightly past my prime to fully share in their enthusiasm for outreach, but I can still admire it.  Of course, for this old gray mare, Bellarmine holds a special place in my heart.  After graduating from Xavier myself, it was a no-brainer to register as a parishioner at Bellarmine.  Along with My Husband the Heathen, Bellarmine was the site of our wedding and then, the baptism of our first child who is now a young adult . . . and a student at Xavier.    

ATTENDANCE:  Full

DURATION:  One hour

Hamilton!

Week Ninety-Eight - Saint Julie Billiart, Hamilton

4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Julie!  Road trip!  To Hamilton!  Puncutation frenzy! Actually, I think the infamous "Hamilton!" is back to plain old "Hamilton" sans exclamation point these days.  Not sure what happened to the exclamation point, but it was fun while it lasted.  Anyhoo . . .

After spending far too many consecutive weeks "in the Heights," I happily pointed the Mighty Honda Odyssey north, way north.  We passed "Historic Lindenwald."  Have you ever heard of Lindenwald, much less Historic Lindenwald?  I haven't.  We passed German Village, and no, we were not in Columbus.  We passed a section of town that my daughter begged me not to drive through again on the way home.  And then, ah, Hamilton.  Home to a thousand small businesses.  After passing said thousand small businesses, including, of all things, a drive-thru with our same last name, a brief moment of panic ensued when my daughter and I thought we were "Lost in Hamilton."  Finally, FINALLY, however, perseverence prevailed, and we arrived at our destination:  St. Julie Billiart.  Seems kind of casual, don't you think?  Julie.  A quick google of St. Julie made only occasional references to Julia, so there you go.  "Julie" it is.  Founder of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur.  Who knew?

Judging by the exterior, St. Julie's is clearly an older church.  Therefore, when I saw the interior, I was confused.  A classic style prevailed, but renovations were evident.  Everything looked so . . . new.  Beautiful dark wooden pews and the hardwood floors beneath them were framed by just-as-beautiful carpeting in the aisles, possibly the prettiest carpeting I've ever seen in a church.  Flawless dark wood continued to dominate the decor in panels on the walls and in columns supporting impressive sculptured stations of the cross.  The main altar displayed a few spires, while the side altars were framed by two-dimensional spires . . . and that was where things started to get fuzzy.  Why just a "frame" of spires?  Why not the real thing?  And above me, a beautiful arched ceiling with coordinating dark wooden ribs and canned lights.  Huh?  Why is there so much obvious drywall in a church with so much time invested in the past?  Google . . .

St. Julie is the result of a 1989 merger of three Butler county parishes:  St. Stephen, St. Veronica, and St. Mary.  I'm not sure which of the three churches supplied St. Julie with the physical building - St. Julie's online history never makes it clear, but each of the three goes back well over 100 years.  St. Mary was dedicated in 1848, St. Veronica, 1894, and St. Stephen, the oldest Catholic parish in Butler County and the fifth oldest in the archdiocese, 1836.  Whichever building was ultimately chosen was slated for renovation amid the inevitable storm of controversy over the proposals.  Nonetheless, all fears were laid to rest when the community viewed the completed work.  It was beautiful.   

                                                             
On May 12, 1990, all joy turned to sorrow when fire consumed the church. Everything that had been accomplished was destroyed.  The above photo was taken from the parish website, a photo I find incredibly sad.

Rebuilding wasn't even a question, and work began immediately.  In the process, the outside was kept the same, but the interior was changed.  They did an outstanding job.  Given the style of the other churches of the time, things could have gone terribly wrong, but the interior is really lovely.  I was impressed, and we all know that doesn't happen very often.  In August of 1992, the new church was dedicated, and ironically, one of the first priests to take up residence at St. Julie was one of the priests currently in residence at St. Ignatius.  Small world.  

St. Julie has a large Hispanic demographic.  Half of their website is in Spanish, half of their bulletin is in Spanish, and in their missalettes, the left side is in English while the right side is in Spanish.  A one o'clock Sunday afternoon mass is offered in Spanish.  I don't speak Spanish, but I always find the concept of a foreign language intriguing, so much so that, at this mass, I spent far too much time during the readings matching up the English I was hearing with the Spanish in the book.  And did I mention the children's missalettes in the hymnal racks of each pew?  Donated by the Rosary Altar Society of St. Julie's several years ago, they had definitely seen better days, but I found it charming to see them there.  What a nice idea someone had.

All in all, St. Julie Billiart Church is a good one although a little too far for me to make a regular habit of attending mass there.  As their bulletin and website boast, just "2 blocks north of (the) Butler County Courthouse."  I suppose that could be interpreted as an invitation to salvation - pre-conviction or post-exoneration, but for now, I'll just assume the courthouse is the biggest, if not only, landmark in town and not just the most well-known one. 

ATTENDANCE:  Almost half full

DURATION:  55 minutes