Week One Hundred and Four - Saint Thomas (Fort Thomas)
4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Thomas Church . . . on Fort Thomas Avenue . . . in Fort Thomas. I was wrong. It doesn't happen very often, but I was wrong. I expected St. Thomas to be small, simple, and innocuous, but . . . I was wrong, and I know exactly where my preconceptions went awry - from my very best friend, a resident of Fort Thomas for several years now. I have listened to her talk about her parish, St. Thomas, on countless occasions - anecdotes about St. Thomas's little festival, St. Thomas's little school, so it was a natural progression to anticipate a "little" church, right? Wrong. What I found in Fort Thomas was an impressive church with a noteworthy congregation.
Before leaving home for mass, I did my homework with a quick visit to St. Thomas's website. I was literally overwhelmed with information. Someone went to a lot of work documenting every detail of the parish's 100+ years of history as well as the architecture of the church - both interior and exterior. It was a lot to wade through, too much actually. I skimmed through looking for highlights but couldn't help but get bogged down in the details.
For example, the exterior was built using "Indiana Bedford limestone;" the interior was built using "Saint Meinrad sandstone." Now, I'm sure those nuances mean something to someone, but for this girl, it's just stone. I think I've seen too many churches because they're all starting to blend together. The gray hues of St. Thomas definitely reminded me of another church I've visited, but for the life of me, I can't remember which one.
The stained glass windows of St. Thomas are beautiful. The website explains the meaning or story depicted on each of the "theme" windows which automatically created a silent, mental game for me when I got there, "Name that Window." Had I not read the information on what was depicted in the windows, I'm not sure I would have been able to identify much on my own, but with a few tidbits of what I had read still floating around in the ol' bean, I was able to match a few of them up to the appropriate window. The result was really fascinating and made the windows all the more beautiful. There are also several "lancets" dedicated to Saint Thomas and to Mary. I had to check the meaning of "lancet" after seeing the reference. Learn something new all the time.
There are monograms on the rafters, all of which are in Latin or Greek or some other dead language. There are nice photos and explanations of these monograms on the web which is good because there is no way anyone without superhuman vision could decipher them in person. Even after reading the online explanations of the monograms, it was (wait for it) all Greek to me. There is a lengthy inscription just below the roof beams, ringing the body of the church. This one is in English, but the "elongated Italian Gothic lettering" makes it virtually illegible. There are glittering mosaic stations of the cross, and the half-dome ceiling above the sanctuary displays a colorful painting of Jesus flanked by twelve saints, men and women, several of whom I had never heard of - Juliana of Cornillon, Tarcisius, Norbert. Norbert?
I didn't get to really look at the architectural details and ornamentation on the outside of the church, but like the inside, there are several. There is also a "perpetual adoration chapel" in a building separate from the church which seems like something pretty unique. I wonder if "perpetual" really means 24/7?
St. Thomas is definitely a church with a lot of thought put into it. However, unless you are informed of those details, you'll more than likely overlook the majority of them, and often, there's a minor drawback to a few of them that mutes their impact. Much of the intricate detail and beauty really does seem to be hidden. The "Saint Meinrad sandstone" and the abundance of stained glass windows keeps the interior dim, throwing much of the artwork into the shadows. Plus, there's something about the rafters that gave me the creeps. There was a vague resemblance to some medieval torture device. Don't get me wrong though - this really is a beautiful church.
Music at this mass was led by a female soloist who sang beautifully. Her post-communion "Ave Maria" was perfect. The mass itself, however, was a bit slow, primarily due to the celebrating priest, clearly a retiree in residence at St. Thomas. He mentioned "80 years" in his homily, so I'm guessing that was his age. He had all the time in the world, so there was no need to rush. Organizing his notes for his homily was a time-consuming ordeal all by itself. But really, what's not to love about a priest who, mid-homily, pauses and then resumes with, "So, what am I saying? . . . "
Earlier, I mentioned the congregation as "noteworthy." This was, indeed, a noteworthy bunch, simply for the polos and button-down shirts in attendance. Not a t-shirt in the bunch! I think I saw two pairs of jeans in the whole church. What a nice change of pace to see people not necessarily dressing up for mass but certainly not showing up come-as-you-are. Even my daughter commented on how nicely everyone was dressed.
Speaking of appearance, don't you love the postcard-perfect picture this week? I may have been the one who stopped the car in the middle of Fort Thomas Avenue for the shot, but it was my daughter who was behind the lens. She'll return to college next weekend, so I'm losing my primary liturgical traveling companion for a while. Time to call in the second-string.
ATTENDANCE: Three-fourths fullBefore leaving home for mass, I did my homework with a quick visit to St. Thomas's website. I was literally overwhelmed with information. Someone went to a lot of work documenting every detail of the parish's 100+ years of history as well as the architecture of the church - both interior and exterior. It was a lot to wade through, too much actually. I skimmed through looking for highlights but couldn't help but get bogged down in the details.
For example, the exterior was built using "Indiana Bedford limestone;" the interior was built using "Saint Meinrad sandstone." Now, I'm sure those nuances mean something to someone, but for this girl, it's just stone. I think I've seen too many churches because they're all starting to blend together. The gray hues of St. Thomas definitely reminded me of another church I've visited, but for the life of me, I can't remember which one.
The stained glass windows of St. Thomas are beautiful. The website explains the meaning or story depicted on each of the "theme" windows which automatically created a silent, mental game for me when I got there, "Name that Window." Had I not read the information on what was depicted in the windows, I'm not sure I would have been able to identify much on my own, but with a few tidbits of what I had read still floating around in the ol' bean, I was able to match a few of them up to the appropriate window. The result was really fascinating and made the windows all the more beautiful. There are also several "lancets" dedicated to Saint Thomas and to Mary. I had to check the meaning of "lancet" after seeing the reference. Learn something new all the time.
There are monograms on the rafters, all of which are in Latin or Greek or some other dead language. There are nice photos and explanations of these monograms on the web which is good because there is no way anyone without superhuman vision could decipher them in person. Even after reading the online explanations of the monograms, it was (wait for it) all Greek to me. There is a lengthy inscription just below the roof beams, ringing the body of the church. This one is in English, but the "elongated Italian Gothic lettering" makes it virtually illegible. There are glittering mosaic stations of the cross, and the half-dome ceiling above the sanctuary displays a colorful painting of Jesus flanked by twelve saints, men and women, several of whom I had never heard of - Juliana of Cornillon, Tarcisius, Norbert. Norbert?
I didn't get to really look at the architectural details and ornamentation on the outside of the church, but like the inside, there are several. There is also a "perpetual adoration chapel" in a building separate from the church which seems like something pretty unique. I wonder if "perpetual" really means 24/7?
St. Thomas is definitely a church with a lot of thought put into it. However, unless you are informed of those details, you'll more than likely overlook the majority of them, and often, there's a minor drawback to a few of them that mutes their impact. Much of the intricate detail and beauty really does seem to be hidden. The "Saint Meinrad sandstone" and the abundance of stained glass windows keeps the interior dim, throwing much of the artwork into the shadows. Plus, there's something about the rafters that gave me the creeps. There was a vague resemblance to some medieval torture device. Don't get me wrong though - this really is a beautiful church.
Music at this mass was led by a female soloist who sang beautifully. Her post-communion "Ave Maria" was perfect. The mass itself, however, was a bit slow, primarily due to the celebrating priest, clearly a retiree in residence at St. Thomas. He mentioned "80 years" in his homily, so I'm guessing that was his age. He had all the time in the world, so there was no need to rush. Organizing his notes for his homily was a time-consuming ordeal all by itself. But really, what's not to love about a priest who, mid-homily, pauses and then resumes with, "So, what am I saying? . . . "
Earlier, I mentioned the congregation as "noteworthy." This was, indeed, a noteworthy bunch, simply for the polos and button-down shirts in attendance. Not a t-shirt in the bunch! I think I saw two pairs of jeans in the whole church. What a nice change of pace to see people not necessarily dressing up for mass but certainly not showing up come-as-you-are. Even my daughter commented on how nicely everyone was dressed.
Speaking of appearance, don't you love the postcard-perfect picture this week? I may have been the one who stopped the car in the middle of Fort Thomas Avenue for the shot, but it was my daughter who was behind the lens. She'll return to college next weekend, so I'm losing my primary liturgical traveling companion for a while. Time to call in the second-string.
DURATION: One hour
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