5:30 Saturday afternoon mass, St. Lawrence. And I'm back. Oh, I'm sure some of you are probably asking yourselves, "What happened to weeks 147 through 157?! IS EVERYTHING OKAY?" Well, at least, that's what I'd like to think you're asking, but yes, everything is fine, and the answer to your first question, in a word, would be "summer." The List, while still chocked full of unseen churches, poses quite a challenge these days. Any outing to a yet-to-be-visited church isn't exactly a hop and a skip down the road; it's more like a two and a half to three hour outing. Not a problem for me and my husband in our autumnal return to empty-nesterdom, but when the kids are home for what amounted to be a very, VERY short summer, I'm certainly not going to ask them to give up their valuable time to indulge their mother's liturgical whims. Likewise, I'm not giving up my valuable time with them by leaving them behind to indulge my liturgical whims. Bottom line: there are a dozen or so Catholic churches within ten minutes of our house. We spent our summer mass times at those, especially base camp, St. Ignatius. But now, it's just me and the mister again, and oddly enough, it was that very mister who asked me last week if The Tour would be resuming soon. Yes, it would! And so begins "Year Four" of The Tour.
YEAR FOUR?!?!?!?!
Good lord. Ths is getting ridiculous. Let's go to the tote board: I've been to 96 different churches, 11 of them in Kentucky, 3 in Indiana, the remaining in Ohio. I honestly don't have a favorite church, although several have specific aspects that I really liked and do remember. There are a few churches that I will not by choice return to. In the words of Foghorn Leghorn, there's just something "eeeeee" about them. I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that if, in fact, I did revisit churches that I initially liked or disliked, my second opinion could very well be distinctly different from my first. With that said, where were we . . . ? Ah. Indiana.
As we made our way into Indy on Saturday afternoon, it was all my husband could do not to pull into the Lawrenceburg Speedway. Thankfully, he had already made his annual pilgrimage to "the track" a few weeks ago, fulfilling some primal need for mud and noise, and continued on to our more peaceful destination - St. Lawrence Church. His first comment once inside the church, however, was about the long, narrow decorative arch surrounding the crucifix, something to the effect of "Is that supposed to represent the racetrack?" I scooted down a bit to avoid the imminent lightning bolt.
I can't say I was much better in the reverence department though, especially when I noticed the statue of Saint Lawrence at the front of the church. He was holding what appeared to be . . . a grill rack. "Patron saint of grill masters?" my husband asked. Giggle. Actually . . .
It's an interesting story, if a bit gruesome. Saint Lawrence died a martyr's death . . . a slow, cruel death. He was tied to an iron grill over a slow fire, so that his flesh roasted little by little. It is said his love for God was so strong and God gave him so much strength that Lawrence was able to joke, "Turn me over. I'm done on this side!" I couldn't believe this part of the story, but several resources give the same information. So that was, in fact, a grill rack in his hand - which still strikes me as kind of bizarre, and Saint Lawrence is the patron saint of chefs . . . which, I suppose, includes "grill masters."
With the present day church built in 1867, I expected the interior of St. Lawrence Church to really be something. It isn't. Whether the result of some modern day renovations or restoration following any of several floods from the nearby Ohio River, things are pretty plain, so plain that there's really nothing to comment on. The stained glass windows are nice. The arched ceiling is nice. A statue of the holy family seems to take the place of individual statues of Mary and Joseph which are absent. I did notice a small painting of a dove, the Holy Spirit, on the ceiling, high above the altar. I thought that was pretty cool, a hidden treasure.
I liked the celebrating priest here. Although a poor sound system made it difficult to comprehend his words at times, his relaxed style projected a true paternal presence. My husband and I exchanged nervous glances when he, rather than the servers, lit the altar candles before mass with what appeared to be a flame-thrower. Could have burnt the whole church down.
Overall, mass at St. Lawrence was pleasant enough, and amazingly, I spotted a family I knew across the aisle. Small world. Small Catholic world.
ATTENDANCE: Three-fourths full
DURATION: 50 minutes
As we made our way into Indy on Saturday afternoon, it was all my husband could do not to pull into the Lawrenceburg Speedway. Thankfully, he had already made his annual pilgrimage to "the track" a few weeks ago, fulfilling some primal need for mud and noise, and continued on to our more peaceful destination - St. Lawrence Church. His first comment once inside the church, however, was about the long, narrow decorative arch surrounding the crucifix, something to the effect of "Is that supposed to represent the racetrack?" I scooted down a bit to avoid the imminent lightning bolt.
I can't say I was much better in the reverence department though, especially when I noticed the statue of Saint Lawrence at the front of the church. He was holding what appeared to be . . . a grill rack. "Patron saint of grill masters?" my husband asked. Giggle. Actually . . .
It's an interesting story, if a bit gruesome. Saint Lawrence died a martyr's death . . . a slow, cruel death. He was tied to an iron grill over a slow fire, so that his flesh roasted little by little. It is said his love for God was so strong and God gave him so much strength that Lawrence was able to joke, "Turn me over. I'm done on this side!" I couldn't believe this part of the story, but several resources give the same information. So that was, in fact, a grill rack in his hand - which still strikes me as kind of bizarre, and Saint Lawrence is the patron saint of chefs . . . which, I suppose, includes "grill masters."
With the present day church built in 1867, I expected the interior of St. Lawrence Church to really be something. It isn't. Whether the result of some modern day renovations or restoration following any of several floods from the nearby Ohio River, things are pretty plain, so plain that there's really nothing to comment on. The stained glass windows are nice. The arched ceiling is nice. A statue of the holy family seems to take the place of individual statues of Mary and Joseph which are absent. I did notice a small painting of a dove, the Holy Spirit, on the ceiling, high above the altar. I thought that was pretty cool, a hidden treasure.
I liked the celebrating priest here. Although a poor sound system made it difficult to comprehend his words at times, his relaxed style projected a true paternal presence. My husband and I exchanged nervous glances when he, rather than the servers, lit the altar candles before mass with what appeared to be a flame-thrower. Could have burnt the whole church down.
Overall, mass at St. Lawrence was pleasant enough, and amazingly, I spotted a family I knew across the aisle. Small world. Small Catholic world.
ATTENDANCE: Three-fourths full
DURATION: 50 minutes
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