Time Flies

Weeks One Hundred and Thirty-Three, Thirty-Four, Thirty-Five, Thirty-Six, Thirty-Seven, and Thirty-Eight And Yes, You Read That Right

Never fear, good people - I’m back!  As predicted, The Tour bypassed the month of March (okay, okay – and a bit of April).  In that time, however, I was, first and foremost, able to thoroughly enjoy a series of spring breakers returning home from their respective higher institutions of learning.  Ironically, I think it’s harder seeing them leave after the short visits than it was seeing them off to college the first time. 

Because we weren’t going to be at full complement for Easter, we had our own Easter Sunday celebration a few weeks early.  Hey, Easter changes its date on the calendar every year anyway, right?  In spite of much initial resistance to my idea, I won out.  The whole gang came home, and we enjoyed a day of absolutely beautiful weather, attended mass together, shared Easter baskets, and ate a delicious meal or two, making it one of our best Easters ever.

On the last weekend of March, I had every intention of visiting St. John the Evangelist in Deer Park . . . until I stepped out of the house to leave for mass.  There, on our back walkway, stood a perfect Pembroke Welsh Corgi.  No ID tags.  Now, you have to understand a few things:  First, I love animals.  Second, I love dogs.  Third, I adore corgis, so clearly, this was a win-win-win situation.  Our house is well-known in the neighborhood as the Home for Unwanted, Lost, Orphaned, and Injured Animals.  I’m sure there’s a “Safe Haven” sign somewhere on our house – one that only animals can see, thankfully.  Cats, dogs, even a parakeet have made their way here, so I’m not complaining – finding a lost soul makes my day, but to find a lost corgi on my back step was beyond my wildest dreams.  Any plans for mass went out the window, and before you knew it, this little guy was making himself at home in our living room, even helping himself to our own dog’s toys.  Oh, of course, I knew I couldn’t keep him, and after a few hours and several dozen phone calls, I was able to reunite dog with owner . . . reluctantly – and I say that on behalf of my own sentiments as well as the dog’s welfare.  Sigh.   

More recently, with the possibilities for our “real” Easter Sunday mass wide open, I opted out of the carnival atmosphere found on the home turf for the most sincere church I could remember, and I think I succeeded – St. Anthony Friary.  As you may or may not recall, this wasn’t my first visit to St. Anthony (“St. Francis is my Hero,” October, 2010), and frankly, this week definitely wasn’t my last.  I like this little church.  The Franciscans run a clean, well-kept establishment, and, as mentioned in my previous post, it’s hard to ignore the fact that the individuals who attend mass here want to attend mass here.  It makes a difference, and it’s nice.

It was SRO at St. Anthony on this Easter Sunday, but no one seemed to mind.  Everyone seemed happy and polite, and the weather was ideal.  It was close to perfect leaving mass, as the bells tolled the “good news” of Easter Sunday.  Easter has always been my favorite holiday, and it’s moments like this that remind my why.

St. Francis is My Hero

Week Fifty-Nine - Saint Anthony Friary and Shrine

10:00 Sunday morning mass, St. Anthony Shrine.  In a brief lapse in sanity, I purposefully got up at an ungodly weekend hour this past Sunday morning to go to mass.  Not just any mass, but a mass on a specific weekend at a specific location that I had planned for some time now.  The location was St. Anthony's Friary, and the weekend was that preceding Saint Francis' feast day (October 4th).  Last year, I had heard that there was quite a celebration in connection with the feast day of the Franciscans' beloved patron, so although this year's October 4th wasn't actually on a Sunday, I thought I'd take my chances and see if "close enough" counted.  Well, as it turned out, "close enough" didn't count, and the festivities were planned for Monday, the actual feast day.  Complicating matters was the fact that this liturgical party was going down at St. Francis Seraph Church on Vine Street in Over-the-Rhine.   'Nuff said.  So, bottom line, I got up early for a party that wasn't happening, but I did get up early for a wonderful mass and a peaceful place to celebrate it in, and that made it all worthwhile.

St. Anthony's overlooks Colerain Avenue, directly across from the heart of Mt. Airy Forest.  Perched high on a hill, the grounds are wonderfully quiet and serene.  There's quite a bit to see here, and visitors are welcome to walk the grounds.  The indoor shrine, at the back of the chapel, holds a "first-class relic" of Saint Anthony, "first-class" indicating the relic is a part of the body or bone from the saint.  I didn't look closely, and, no, I'm not sure I want to know.  The chapel is truly the epitome of "a chapel" - small, attractive, and charming.  This fact was a bit of a catch-22 for me after reading that the chapel, built in 1889, originally featured an elaborate interior with "eight side altars and two large paintings over the high altar depicting scenes from the life of St. Anthony."  For some reason - and I can't imagine what - the chapel was redecorated in 1978 in a "more simple style," at which time, the paintings were covered.  While the current interior is certainly attractive in its "more simple style," I couldn't help but wonder what the original had looked like and whether a true piece of history had been lost.  With that said, everything is in pristine condition, a result, I assume, from minimal use as St. Anthony's is not an active parish and, with the exception of two additional novena masses on Tuesday, only one mass is celebrated each day. 

What's not to love about the Franciscans?  With a Franciscan priest among my relatives, maybe I have a certain innate affinity for them, but how can you not admire those brown robes, the knotted rope belt, and - if you're lucky - the sandals.  On this cool morning, I noticed one of the priests wore socks with his sandals.  I love that.  I've never seen any young man in Franciscan garb, and at this location, all nine of the priests in attendance were clearly in, or at least approaching, their senior years, so I have to wonder if the Franciscans are a dying breed.  I hope not.  The celebrant at this mass was a kind-looking man who frequently smiled throughout the mass which was a really nice thing to see.  His homily was clear and insightful and . . . full of hope.  I don't know how else to describe it.  Great job.

I'll be the first to admit that I'm no spring chicken, but somehow I was still one of the youngest people at this mass.  Other than three teens (two of whom were with a family from St. Ignatius who sat in front of me - interesting) and one little girl, almost all of those in attendance were seniors.  That's not a bad thing, just an observation.  My other observation noted that this was a congregation who had made a conscious decision to be at this particular mass at St. Anthony's.  There was no parish boundary pulling these people in.  No rigid weekly routines.  No unspoken social conventions.  Rather, the only obligation was their "Sunday obligation."  They made a good choice.

ATTENDANCE:  Slightly less than full

DURATION:  55 minutes