Three Joes Walk Into a Bar . . . (Second in a Three-Part Series)

Week One Hundred and Fifteen - Saint Joseph (Camp Springs)

    

5:00 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Joseph a.k.a. St. Joseph in the Hills, although if you ask me, it would be St. Joseph ON the Hill.  St. Joseph Church in Camp Springs sits at the end of a long driveway at the top of a steep hill.  Suffice it to say that you will not be attending mass here in the winter nor when there's even a threat of snow.  In good weather though?  It's kind of cool - a little red church, up high, all by itself, keeping watch over the neighborhood. 
  
According to St. Joe's brief online history, the parish originated in 1845 with the construction of a log church by German immigrants.  Today, St. Joseph in Camp Springs is the oldest Catholic parish in Campbell County, and the parish school, established in 1851, is the longest continuing Catholic elementary school in the Diocese of Covington.  How the school continues is beyond me - enrollment this year is a whopping 34 students, K thru 8th grades.  The school itself doesn't appear much larger than a ranch house.  The Sisters of Divine Providence, just down the road, staffed the school until 1978 when a shortage of nuns prompted a switch to lay faculty.  Financial troubles in 1991 forced the seventh and eighth grades to be dropped, although they were reinstated the following year.  Clearly, it's been a struggle for the school over the past several years, but I like this little school's perseverence and spirit. Go, Blackhawks! 
 
Meanwhile, back at the church . . . Not a lot to see here.  A square nave, roughly 14 rows of pews on each side, white walls, a small balcony.  A few stained glass windows appear to be the originals but lack the glamour of some of the other stained glass from the same time period that I've seen.  The altar takes center stage, a hulking behemoth, not particularly pretty but imposing nonetheless.  It frames a large portrait of Joseph holding the child Jesus - it's a good one.  There are additional paintings on either side of the altar, but from my vantage point, I couldn't see what they depicted. 
   
A lone woman led the music for the mass, providing guitar accompaniment.  She sang quite well, but for a grown woman, her voice rang out like that of a little girl.  Odd. Mass progressed at a good clip with two exceptions.  My husband and I couldn't help but chuckle (chuckle?) over the seemingly endless stream of petitions.  The petition for the sick must have included every name in the parish census.  And then, just when things were wrapping up, the celebrating priest asked the congregation to "please, be seated." Oh no.  A fifteen minute lecture on the upcoming changes to the mass ensued -  every line, every word, every detail, as if anyone was going to remember any of it.
   
The one thing I will definitely remember about St. Joseph is their church bell.  Tolling just before the start of mass, it must be heard for miles around.  This is a true church bell, and it's loud. REALLY.  LOUD.  I loved it.
   

St. Joseph's School's website includes a poem written in the 1930's by a church parishioner which I've included here.  I think it's quite nice.
     

Far from modern city rumble,

Far from all industrial ills

Nestled in Kentucky’s highlands

Stands St. Joseph’s-in-the-hills.

      

Here its spire, a rigid finger

Pointing nobly heav’ns way

Beckons to the valley trav’ler

To ascend the hills and pray.

      

Steeped in love and old tradition

Standing here a hundred years,

Landmark of a bygone era,

Built by faithful, stern pioneers.

     

Here they came with ax and plowshare

Tilled the valleys, bridged the rills,

And with Christian faith and labor

Built St. Joseph’s-in-the-hills.

     

Thus their church was interwoven

With their lives, and going their way

They left it to the generations –

Thus it stands…the same today.

     

And Oh! ‘tis sacred when the sun sets

And a lonely cardinal trills

While the wind is whisp’ring softly

O'er St. Joseph's-in-the-hills.

                                                                 
               The website for St. Joseph Church touts their parish as "the best-kept secret in Campbell County."  I have to agree. 
                  
ATTENDANCE:  45 minutes for the mass itself
       
DURATION:  Slightly less than half full

Three Joes Walk Into a Bar . . . (First in a Three-Part Series)

Week One Hundred and Fourteen - Saint Joseph (Crescent Springs)

 

11:30 Sunday morning mass, St. Joseph.  Back on the horse this week and beginning a three-part series.  The second installment, next week, will clarify where this is headed.  This week, a Sunday morning drive brought me and the mister to Saint Joseph Church in Crescent Springs, Kentucky. 

Reading the history of St. Joseph's parish is about as exciting as watching grass grow, so let's just go with this - the parish dates back to 1916, and the physical church building has been built, rebuilt, and renovated more times than I could count - and leave it at that.  St. Joseph seems like a nice church, but there's no getting around what I found to be a major distraction - an awkward layout. 
 
Entering through the front doors, I could have sworn I was looking at the classic "let's-knock-out-that-wall-for-an-addition" church. However, according to the online history, the church - the one built in 1962, the one used today - was apparently built in the shape of an "L" with two areas for seating, the sanctuary located at the intersection of the two naves.  Who does that?  Apparently recognizing the error of their ways thirty years later, a "middle nave" was completed in 1995, purportedly connecting the two original naves into a "cohesive worship space."  I just wasn't seeing it.  What I was seeing was a traditional church . . . and an addition.  The sanctuary is still located at the intersection of the two disparate sections, something I'm not a fan of - seems that the celebrating priest is always short-changing one side or the other.  And really, shouldn't the whole flock gather together?  I like to see the whole picture and not wonder about who or what I'm not seeing.  Plus, you just know there's a whole unspoken set of rules about who sits in which section, not to mention the inescapable implications that come with sitting on a particular side.  
 
With that being said, St. Joseph - the traditional half of the church - has a simple attractiveness.  Wooden paneled walls behind the altar, a beamed ceiling, traditional lighting - it all works.  Stained glass windows on both sides cast an unusual but oddly intriguing blue glow throughout the church.  As for the "addition," things are a little more suburban - a dropped ceiling, track lighting.  You get the picture. 

The mass itself was boringly average.  Although a female soloist had a beautiful voice, music, with piano accompaniment, was standard. The celebrating priest was . . . slow.  In contrast, the distribution of communion was possibly the fastest I've seen.   What seemed like a good fifty or so distributors quickly took their positions throughout the church.  Things would have been wrapped up in a matter of minutes had they not left the priest to do the dishes all by himself.  How rude.  The whole thing just seemed to drag on and on . . . and on.  Luckily, "Eli," an adorable - and well-behaved - one-year old was sitting in front of us - to keep us awake.      

ATTENDANCE:  Slightly more than half full

DURATION: One hour

They All Come Back

Week One Hundred and Thirteen - Family Time

Now really.  With everybody home for the weekend, did you seriously think I would spend a good chunk of time travelling to god-knows-where for mass?  Sorry, Charlie.  Rest assured, though - I'll be back with a vengeance next weekend!

The Other Side of the Tracks

Week One Hundred and Twelve - That Old Time Religion

Well, lookee here.  Done hanged up them thar Cath-o-lic ways for the weekend, and headed south fer some proper worshippin' - at Hebron Baptist Church.  Y'all didn't see that'n comin', did ya?  Hit me with some gospel, Mahalia.     

Actually, my husband and I attended the wedding of one of his coworkers this weekend - hence, the brief detour in statehood and religious affiliation . . . and politically correct posts. 

Outer Limits

Week One Hundred and Eleven - Saint Columban
 

4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Columban.  I think I may have reached my limit this week, my limit in distance-to-be-traveled-for-mass, that is.  Took the Mighty Honda Odyssey to Loveland - the far edge of Loveland, and let me just say, it was A Drive.  In retrospect, it really was a bit ridiculous.  Until Saturday, Wards Corner was just a name Tim Hedrick mentioned in storm warnings.  Now I know - it's out there.  It's also the home of St. Columban Church.

Although St. Columban's parish was founded in 1859 "as a mission church of St. Andrew in Milford," the cornerstone on the current church building reads 2002, so yes, it's a new church, meaning St. Columban comes with the inevitable pros and cons in the aesthetics department.  PRO:  A mesmerizing holy water font at the back of the church.  Very cool.  Very cool.  CON:  Indecipherable stained glass windows.  I don't know what they were supposed to depict, so given the minimal size of the windows, I'm really not sure why they even bothered with them.  PRO:  Dark wooden pews and additional decorative detailing throughout the church using the same dark wood - always a good choice. CON:  A large wooden backdrop behind the altar carved with the likeness of . . . a tree.  PRO:  I can't believe I'm saying this but the lighting - think "upside down umbrellas."  I kind of liked them.  Surprising, I know.  A skylight running the length of the center aisle reminded me of another church, but for the life of me, I can't remember which one.  CON:  The absence of statues.  Is there a new rule I'm not aware of that prohibits statues in new churches?  No Mary.  No Joseph.  I don't get it.

BIGGEST CON OF ALL: The crucifix.  Anchored on the "tree" behind the altar, a plain wooden cross supports a solid white porcelain Jesus.  Soooo many problems with this Jesus, an awkward resemblance to a woman being the most noticeable.  Long, flowing hair and a voluminous, draped loincloth billowed to the right, apparently the result of a stiff, sculptural breeze coming from the left.  The feet were perfectly aligned next to each other, toes pointed downward, the hands similary perfect.  At the same time, a very realistic crown of thorns hung at the base of the cross.  My Husband the Heathen thought it was a pretzel.  It was all so . . . disturbing.  In retrospect, I theorized that this was the resurrected Jesus, not Jesus on the cross, and with that, things seemed to make a little more sense.  But did I like it?  Not at all. 
 

I feel like St. Columban is the St. Ignatius of Clermont County.  Not only is their physical church somewhat similar to St. I's in setup, the website for the parish school indicates a current student enrollment around 700, a number similar to, although still far behind, St. I's. I think a good portion of those 700 students were at this 4:30 mass.  There were numerous families with children in attendance, and a lot of those families included children younger than school-age . . . which made for quite a show.  I've never seen so many children fall off kneelers in such a short span of time.  The little girl behind us was quite vocal throughout the mass; another, next to my husband, was planking on the back of the pew in front of her.  Props to the young family in front of us - an attractive husband and wife, clearly living the good life - with FOUR BOYS UNDER FIVE.  More power to you, sister.  I did love their youngest, just a baby, stylin' in his cardigan sweater with suede elbow patches.  Yeah, overall, it was a well-dressed crowd, even the babies.

No surprise, it was a noisy mass . . . and a busy one, people milling around, walking back and forth, in and out.  I was confused by a few rows of individual seats, not just at the back of church, but outside of the church, in the welcoming space.  Was this the "cry room"?  If so, there must have been a lot of teary-eyed individuals - of all ages - at this mass.  I have no idea why so many people were sitting there, other than for a quick getaway.  

No collection was taken up during the mass.  This was definitely a first.  The bulletin indicated that online donation was available, but we all know the seniors won't take that route, so what gives?   I have to admit though, it was actually kind of nice, being able to concentrate on the preparation of the gifts and the offertory hymn without wondering when the basket was coming your way.  No last minute check writing.  None of that panicked searching for a few dollars at the last minute or fighting over which child gets to drop the envelope in. 

So many things at St. Columban had me guessing, but with time and thought, it all started to make sense.  Of course, there's still the little matter of the drive - which will never make sense, but a nice dinner out on the way home definitely made it acceptable.  
    
ATTENDANCE:  Comfortably full

DURATION:  55 minutes