Week Sixty-Six - Saint John Neumann (Fairfield)
11:00 Sunday morning mass, St. John Neumann. I've been to St. John Neumann Church before. No, actually, I haven't, but I sure felt like I had. There it was: the ceiling from Sacred Heart, the windows from St. Maximilian, the chairs from St. Ann (sans kneelers). Even the exterior vaguely reminded me of St. Simon. Have I seen it all? Have I really exhausted all of the options on the Catholic church menu? Or did my choice of church this week simply encompass all the highlights (and lowlights) of church design over the past few decades? I'll wager a guess and go with the latter.
St. John Neumann Church is plain. Some might call it "simple," but I'll call it "plain." You can include everything I mentioned above, but you can leave out the statues, the paintings, and the decor - because there are none. The religious wasteland definitely seems to be showing up more and more among the newer churches. I wonder - was the choice to take the barren route a financial decision or a pastoral one, or was it just "the style" at the time of construction? Speaking of construction, it was more than a bit unnerving to feel the floor beneath my feet vibrate and shake with each passerby. I had already tried out two others seats in a desperate attempt to avoid a cold draft (my children would have been mortified), but when the draft became unavoidable, I stopped wandering and resigned myself to the cold . . . and apparently to the suspense of wondering if the floor might give way at any moment as well.
St. John's was the first church I've been to where the congregation turned en masse to face the entrance procession at the beginning of the mass. Yup, I was clearly the new kid, the only one facing front and center. Awkward. There was no crucifix at the altar until it was processed in, so maybe that's the reason behind such a show of respect. A small, unimposing crucifix, it remained at the altar for the duration of mass, leaning awkwardly off-kilter in its holder. I'll give SJN the benefit of the doubt and assume the crucifix does, in fact, reside at the altar during its off-hours. You might have to look for it though. Fun fact: Did you know that a "crucifer" is the person who carries the processional cross at the beginning and end of the mass? This was news to me. I had to look up this ominous-sounding term when one of the candidates for St. John's pastoral council listed "crucifer" as one of his current activities. Who knew?
A four- or five-person guitar group was awkwardly positioned directly behind the altar, something I found very distracting. Most of the songs I had never heard before. The group sounded pleasant enough, but there was a certain twang that made me think they could just as easily have moseyed on up from a tent revival down yonder.
The celebrating priest seemed like an amicable guy. He smiled occasionally during mass which I thought was nice - after all, this is a celebration, right? He had a great tactic for delivering his homily. While speaking (without notes - awesome), he strolled the width and depth of the church, up and down the aisles from front to back. Not only did the "visual" hold your attention, i.e. "Where's he going next?", but listening to a homily delivered from only a few feet away is so much better than listening to a static homily delivered from a lectern waaaay over there. It was genius, I tell ya.
Saint John Neumann Church is located directly across from Smiley Cemetery. The potential for comments on that fact alone is endless, so I'll just stop now.
ATTENDANCE: Half-full
St. John Neumann Church is plain. Some might call it "simple," but I'll call it "plain." You can include everything I mentioned above, but you can leave out the statues, the paintings, and the decor - because there are none. The religious wasteland definitely seems to be showing up more and more among the newer churches. I wonder - was the choice to take the barren route a financial decision or a pastoral one, or was it just "the style" at the time of construction? Speaking of construction, it was more than a bit unnerving to feel the floor beneath my feet vibrate and shake with each passerby. I had already tried out two others seats in a desperate attempt to avoid a cold draft (my children would have been mortified), but when the draft became unavoidable, I stopped wandering and resigned myself to the cold . . . and apparently to the suspense of wondering if the floor might give way at any moment as well.
St. John's was the first church I've been to where the congregation turned en masse to face the entrance procession at the beginning of the mass. Yup, I was clearly the new kid, the only one facing front and center. Awkward. There was no crucifix at the altar until it was processed in, so maybe that's the reason behind such a show of respect. A small, unimposing crucifix, it remained at the altar for the duration of mass, leaning awkwardly off-kilter in its holder. I'll give SJN the benefit of the doubt and assume the crucifix does, in fact, reside at the altar during its off-hours. You might have to look for it though. Fun fact: Did you know that a "crucifer" is the person who carries the processional cross at the beginning and end of the mass? This was news to me. I had to look up this ominous-sounding term when one of the candidates for St. John's pastoral council listed "crucifer" as one of his current activities. Who knew?
A four- or five-person guitar group was awkwardly positioned directly behind the altar, something I found very distracting. Most of the songs I had never heard before. The group sounded pleasant enough, but there was a certain twang that made me think they could just as easily have moseyed on up from a tent revival down yonder.
The celebrating priest seemed like an amicable guy. He smiled occasionally during mass which I thought was nice - after all, this is a celebration, right? He had a great tactic for delivering his homily. While speaking (without notes - awesome), he strolled the width and depth of the church, up and down the aisles from front to back. Not only did the "visual" hold your attention, i.e. "Where's he going next?", but listening to a homily delivered from only a few feet away is so much better than listening to a static homily delivered from a lectern waaaay over there. It was genius, I tell ya.
Saint John Neumann Church is located directly across from Smiley Cemetery. The potential for comments on that fact alone is endless, so I'll just stop now.
ATTENDANCE: Half-full
DURATION: One hour
