11:00 Sunday morning mass, St. Francis de Sales. FINALLY, back on the trail! I had every intention of going to mass on Saturday afternoon, but a string of thunderstorms throughout the day had the dog stuck to me like glue. As a result, things were postponed until the next morning and ultimately included a change in venue from my original plan.
This week, my husband and I ended up in Walnut Hills at St. Francis de Sales Church. This is a good one. Built in 1878 with “gray hill limestone,” St. Francis church is a blend of “middle German and French Gothic” architecture. “Middle German” architecture. Really, must we be so condescending? I love these details . . . and I have no idea what any of them mean. But whatever they mean, the end result is reputedly one of the best examples of Gothic architecture in the city. Shows how much I know. In 1973, the church was placed on the National Register of Historic Places.
The church, including the organ, was completed at a cost of $200,000. Mind-boggling, isn’t it? The history of the church indicates a renovation in 1999. I don’t know what said renovation involved, but I’m happy to see that . . . well . . . I can’t see it. The interior of St. Francis is everything you would expect. A few details, including the color scheme, aren’t exactly to my taste, but it’s all there – the ornate decor, a soaring, ribbed ceiling, incredibly beautiful stained glass windows, and a spired, white marble altar that spans nearly the entire width of the sanctuary. The altar was a gift in 1887 from parishioners, Joseph and Agnes Klein. To recognize their generosity, statues of Saint Joseph and Saint Agnes flank the altar. I didn't actually see Saints Joseph and Agnes, but I do like the story - it definitely speaks to a different time. The stations of the cross are worth a trip alone. These things take the prize for the largest stations in any church I’ve been to, and not only are they HUGE, they’re beautiful. A comment was made during mass that the stations were “finished,” and an invitation was extended to take a look at them. I don’t know what the story is there, but the result is really something. Part painting, part sculpture. I’ve never seen anything like them and had a hard time taking my eyes off of them.
I particularly like the story of St. Francis’ bell, “Big Joe,” a bell we did hear toll several times during our visit. Big Joe got its nickname from Joseph Buddeke, a parishioner and the largest donor to the project. Built in 1895, the cost was between $12,000 and $15,000. The equivalent cost today would be roughly - wait for it - $600,000. Big Joe is the largest church bell in the United States as well as the largest free swinging bell ever poured in the country. (The Millenium Peace Bell in Newport, Kentucky, is larger but was cast in France.) It weighs 35,000 pounds and stands (hangs?) 7 feet tall and 9 feet in diameter. The clapper alone weighs 640 lbs. This is one big-ass bell. Pardon my French Gothic.
“Big Joe” occupies the entire main floor of the church’s 230-foot high stone steeple. History maintains that it took 14 horses to haul the bell up Gilbert Avenue to the church. From the church’s online history, you’ll find this dramatic account:
“It was rung for the first time in early January 1896. Witnesses said its E-flat peal could be heard throughout a 15-mile radius. It rattled nearby buildings and shattered windows in the neighborhood ... It was installed, it swung, and all of Walnut Hills nearly jumped out of its collective skin. The earth trembled, windows nearby broke from the concussion, and tiny bits of cement were seen falling from between the stones of the church tower."
E-flat peal. Kills me. Whether fact or fiction, after just that one ringing, the parish reportedly decided that Big Joe could never swing again. Since then, it has only been rung with a hammer from the outside of the bell. Another great story, but I can't help feeling kind of bad for Big Joe.
The church’s website boasts that St. Francis de Sales is known for its “warmth and welcoming spirit.” Other than the dreaded “meet and greet” at the beginning of mass, I can’t say I exactly felt an exorbitant outpouring of warmth and welcome, but there was definitely a relaxed and comfortable vibe here. The celebrating priest, a likeable man, seemed very casual about the whole affair, but in a good way. I found it interesting that, rather than taking a seat on the altar, he sat in the first pew with the congregation. Because the servers remained seated on the altar, I can’t say it was for a lack of chairs. Rather, I’m theorizing this was a gesture on Father’s part to include himself as part of the congregation, rather than opting for a special “reserved seat.” That’s my theory anyway, and I think it’s a good one, both in concept and in practice.
The neighborhood, although in the midst of a desperate stab at revitalization, is still sketchy at best, so I have to admit, I was surprised by the number of people at this mass. All was well though, and I wouldn’t hesitate to return. Mr. Wonderful, true to form, took me home via the “scenic route.” I swear, it must take him back to his urban city roots or something because he seems to derive some perverse pleasure in consistently choosing the most questionable driving routes. We drove down streets and through neighborhoods that are among the worst in the city. True, he had an ulterior motive, wanting to show me something specific, but seriously, did we have to take the Brush With Death Tour to get there? Next week, I'm thinking of heading out to the country where the most dangerous thing we might run into is a traffic jam at the local Creamy Whip.
ATTENDANCE: About half full
DURATION: One hour and five minutes
No comments:
Post a Comment