Mama Mia

Week One Hundred and Nine - Sacred Heart (Camp Washington)
 

5:30 Saturday afternoon mass, Sacred Heart.  Our son, our youngest, is now at college.  So far, he seems to be happy and having a good time, although I feel compelled to qualify my statement by adding that, at the time of this writing, classes hadn't started yet.  Me?  Suffice it to say that, if one more person tells me how much I'm going to love being an empty-nester, somebody's going to get hurt.  Actually, I'm fine.  It's just so . . . quiet.  But now, to the task at hand . . .

As we moved our freshman into his dorm room last week, one of his roommates arrived at the same time.  This young man came from New Jersey, and his mother epitomized all that is Jersey, not in a negative "Jersey Shore - Snookie" sort of way, but in a busy, talkative, Italian sort of way.  It was the Italian part that got me thinking about ravioli, and ravioli got me thinking about Sacred Heart Church.  I've been to Sacred Heart Church on several occasions - only once for mass but several times for food.  More on the food later.  First, the church . . .

I couldn't find any significant history of Sacred Heart Church, but I did find this:  The church was originally built in 1870 for "immigrant Germans and their descendents."  Germans?  I had always thought of Sacred Heart as the "Italian church."  Was I wrong?  Not entirely.  That small bit of history also noted that the German parishioners were later joined in 1969 by "immigrant Italians and their descendents," so my impressions were fairly accurate, but I was still surprised by the somewhat recent inclusion of the Italian demographic. 

Sacred Heart is a beautiful church.  I would assume that it's always been beautiful, although the parish website includes photos of a recent renovation/restoration project.  Unfortunately, it doesn't include dates with the photos, so I'm not sure when the work was completed, but the results are impressive. Immense marble columns, mosaic borders around tall stained glass windows, brilliant, sparkling guilded moldings, countless paintings on the ceiling and around the dome above the altar - all beautiful.  I especially like the numerous paintings of angels around the back of the altar.  I think I counted 26 angels at one point.  Above the tallest spire of the altar, there's a whole flock of them which I had a hard time taking my eyes off of.  Speaking of which, the main altar and equally impressive side altars are really something.  In My Husband the Heathen's words, "Where do you get something like that?"   

Although the stained glass windows aren't particularly detailed and, other than a few flowers, depict no real pictures, I was particularly taken by them.  I was charmed to realize mid-mass that each window had been designed in a "rainbow pattern" - the glass closest to the top including red and orange segments, the glass towards the bottom ending in aquas, blues, and purples.  The sun shining through the windows created the sense of being inside a kaleidoscope.  The soft multi-colored hues cast by the windows made up for a rather unfortunate choice when it came to the predominant color of the church - an odd, golden mustard yellow.  That and the flooring - linoleum tiles - were really the only aesthetic faults I could find at Sacred Heart.  A classic hardwood floor would have really cinched it.  I can't hold either against Sacred Heart though.  This church is pretty darn perfect.

The mass itself was standard, although there was a noticeable absence of the sign of peace. Not sure what's up with that, and frankly, I don't really care, but get this:  As my husband and I sat in our pew waiting for mass to begin, we nearly jumped out of our skins when the organist started playing.  Hallelujah!  FINALLY, an organist who takes advantage of the magnificent instrument he has available to him!  We weren't just at a mass - we were at a concert, and his performance was amazing! This organ was so big and so loud that vibrations could be felt and heard throughout the church!  To make things even better, the same organist sang an a capella piece in Latin during the distribution of communion.  Bravo! 
  
I'm pretty sure I'll be returning to Sacred Heart very soon, if not for mass (or their Sunday Latin mass), for the food! Something of a Cincinnati institution, we've hauled our pots and pans down to Sacred Heart's Italian dinner several times now and waited in line for hours for a carry-out of the best ravioli in town, and yes, it is imperative that you bring your own pots - trust me, you'll be eating for days. Their next Italian dinner is sometime in October, and you can bet that if it's a nice day with nothing else going on, my husband and I will be there.  Of course, that should be easy, now that we have all this "free time" on our hands, right?  Grrrrrr . . .
    

ATTENDANCE:  About one-third full

DURATION:  45 minutes

Bring Flowers of the Fairest

Week Ninety-Two - Sacred Heart (Bellevue)

Note:  I forgot to publish an entry!  There it was, all nice and neat, ready to go, and there was me, thinking, "What's this draft doing on my list of posts?"   Hence, the previous "Week Ninety" is now "Week Ninety-One," and "Week Ninety" is the previously forgotten entry.  Meanwhile . . .

11:00 Sunday morning mass, Sacred Heart.  Why do I always think Bellevue is farther away than it really is?  Dumb Cincinnati girl that I am, a quick Mapquest search brings me back to reality every time - it's right there on the other side of the Big Mac bridge.  Joe's Crab Shack, Buckhead, The Party Source - all right there, all Bellevue, just like Sacred Heart Church. 

This was my third "Sacred Heart" Church . . . this one, a part of "Divine Mercy Parish."  Okay, try to stay with me here, kids, 'cause things are gonna get confusing.  The original Sacred Heart Church, the first Catholic parish in Bellevue, was erected in 1874, but to meet the needs of the growing parish, a larger church, the one I visited this weekend, was built in 1892.  Saint Anthony of Padua Church was the second parish in the city of Bellevue.  Established in 1889, Saint Anthony's was founded to meet the needs of the English-speaking Catholics of the community, Sacred Heart being a German-speaking parish.  Love that.  Meanwhile, in Dayton, Kentucky, several attempts at a third Catholic church in the area were destroyed by flooding, but amazingly, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux Church, built in 1914, survived persistent river threats and still stands today. 

Flash forward to 2001 when demographics were working against these parishes.  As young parishioners moved to the suburbs, the number of school children declined, and most of the remaining parishioners had reached their senior years.  A task force was convened from the memberships of Sacred Heart, St. Anthony, and St. Bernard parishes to discuss the future.  Two long years later, it was decided that a single parish in Bellevue would be created from Sacred Heart and St. Bernard under the name Divine Mercy Parish.  Apparently, poor St. Anthony had drawn the short straw, and the last mass at that church was celebrated in June, 2003.

A history of St. Anthony indicates that members of Divine Mercy Parish would worship at Sacred Heart, but the bulletin I picked up at Sacred Heart indicates a staggered weekend mass schedule that clearly alternates between Sacred Heart and St. Bernard.  Benediction is offered at both churches on two different days as well.  I thought it was funny to read that both churches even offer their own "prayer hotline." Seriously, would it really matter which one you called? 

And so, while I'll never get to see St. Anthony's of Bellevue, I have added Dayton's St. Bernard to The List.  This weekend, however, it was all Sacred Heart, and I have to say, I really, really liked this church.  Not a particularly big church, Sacred Heart still has to a lot to look at and admire, namely, the main altar, perhaps the most beautiful I've seen.  Imported from Austria, the spires of the altar reach a height of thirty-three feet, but what really makes it splendid is the guilding on the spires.  The gold ornamentation and the hand-carved statues make it truly, truly beautiful.  I've never seen anything like it. 

There are a lot of statues at Sacred Heart.  St. Francis, St. Therese, and a unique statue of, what else, the Sacred Heart all caught my eye.  Large stations of the cross imported from Germany are also impressive.  Pictures depicting the life of Christ line the walls of the church just above the wainscoting.  They looked darkened and aged but were a unique feature that I had never seen before.  The stained glass windows weren't my favorite, but I'll forgive them because I'm still thinking about the altar. 

A small adult choir led the congregation and gave a nice performance  The hymns seemed to float upward just perfectly.  My daughter and I couldn't decide if the presiding priest had an accent or not.  Either way, I liked to hear him speak.  Much like everyone there, he was casual and friendly in his homily.  He also gave the most reverent and sincere Final Doxology ever.  It seems odd to say that, but it was so noticeable I had to mention it.

Entering Sacred Heart Church, there was once again a brief moment of panic when several little girls in First Communion dresses and little boys in suits were spotted.  It wasn't a First Communion celebration, however - it was a May Crowning.  This was my lucky day because I like May Crownings.  I like the whole idea of devoting the month of May to Mary.  There were lots of flowers for Mary on this particular Sunday, and all the big May Crowning hits were included:  "On This Day, O Beautiful Mother," "Bring Flowers of the Fairest."  It was nice. 

Maybe it was the rare sunshine on Sunday.  Maybe it was the May Crowning.  Maybe I was just in a good mood.  Whatever it was, it was a good morning.        
 

ATTENDANCE:  Comfortably full

DURATION:  One hour and five minutes

Weak in the Knees

Week Twenty-Eight - Sacred Heart (Fairfield)

4:30 Saturday afternoon mass, Sacred Heart. In perusing my church inventory, it became glaringly obvious that, after having traveled east, west, and south, I hadn't yet ventured north, so with no one else home except for yours truly, I pointed the mighty Honda Odyssey that very direction and headed off to Fairfield. Ah, Fairfield. Home to countless small businesses, including, most notably on my journey, an inordinately large number of dentists and pet hospitals. I also passed a florist with a large neon sign in the window that read, "FUNERALS" - disturbing - and a dog boarding kennel that also advertised Christmas trees but which looked more like a mobile home park to me. Good to see the folks of Fairfield can multi-task.

My drive took a good 25 minutes, and I was in territory I had never been to before. I would have completely passed the church except that I decided the line of Buicks and Chryslers turning in at a particular location had to be the right place, and it was. Sacred Heart not only sits low to the ground, it seems to sit in a hole. The parking lot was clearly higher than the church which, in my defense, was barely visible from the street. Lying low in Fairfield.

Since I was now following the Saturday afternoon crowd, I followed them straight into the "Senior Parking Lot." Fail. Fortunately, I easily found a more age-appropriate spot to park, but again I had to play lemming just to find where to enter the Sacred Heart pagoda.

The worshipping space of Sacred Heart Church is a large square room, but the seating is set on the diagonal, facing the altar which is situated in a corner. Everything here is fairly plain. The plain wooden altar was surrounded by plain off-white walls, a plain wooden lectern, a crucifix, and two potted palms. I know for a fact that the roof/ceiling was featured as a problem in my son's geometry textbook - four slanted isosceles triangles. I didn't see any statues anywhere.

Clearly, it's all about comfort at Sacred Heart. Wall-to-wall carpeting, padded seats on the pews, padded backs on the pews, padded backs on the backs of the pews. And, yes, an absence of kneelers. Again, Mr. Wonderful misses it. I got so comfortable at Sacred Heart that I could have sworn I was sitting in someone's living room. The presiding priest reminded me of my husband's uncle, both in appearance and voice. That kept me amused for a while, unlike a recording from the archbishop that served as the homily.

Once again, I had to do a double-take when I recognized the gentleman providing the music for the mass and again when I later spotted one of my son's friends. It kills me everytime when I feel so foreign and out-of-place but still find something familiar. Maybe that's what religion's all about, Charlie Brown.

ATTENDANCE: Full

DURATION: 55 minutes