WHY WASN'T THE PERFUME SOLD AND THE MONEY USED TO FEED THE POOR?

Starting Easter Monday, St. Sebastian church will be closed weekdays for restoration.  Someone might rightly ask, “Why drop this amount of change on a building?” and list any number of worthwhile causes were the resources might be spent.  It is a good question to ask and one not to be taken lightly. 

At the center of a Catholic community is not a thing (building of otherwise) or a theology or philosophy or any thought or thing.  It is a Person: Jesus Christ.  And not a center where Jesus is remembered or merely in some way mysteriously present in a people or proclamation.  According to our 2,000 years of belief, Jesus is present substantially, Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity under the appearance of bread.  He is present to us just as He was 2,000 years ago when John the Baptist pointed to Him and said, “Behold!  The Lamb of God!” 

The epicenter then - the very core of our parish can be found in the tabernacle - in the Sacred Species.  You can find this in the most conspicuous spot in the most conspicuous building on our campus.  There is no mistaking this from the clues given by our art and architecture.  

As a result, this is where a large number of (mostly) local residents voluntarily gather at least once a week to discuss what it is to be human, what it is to be good men, good women, what it is to be a good citizen, to hear and be sent out on mission to form Western Culture.  It is no academic exercise.  It is a duty to which we are expected to respond the benefits of which are for more than ourselves but for the good of all, particularly the most oppressed or disenfranchised.

Its doors are open to all.  Its beauty is even for those who have no funds to support it.  It is all done voluntarily and not just for the good of itself but, as it sees itself, for the good of the whole world.

Such noble gems of intentions are of course enshrined in a beautiful space.  The center of our source of beauty, goodness, and of truth is reflected in the space in which it is nurtured.  The idea is not to have a building that stands out beautifully in a less-than-beautiful world, but to inspire the world to be as beautiful.

ART MATTERS

It was interesting seeing St. Patrick Cathedral transformed from grey and black to this brilliant white color as the structure was cleaned and repaired.  However, it is one thing to see such a building transformed, it is quite another to witness it being built.  There are opportunities to do this however.

The Episcopal Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York began construction in 1892 and still has quite a ways to go.  But that is what makes it fascinating to visit.  Uncompleted towers are stunted.  Interior stonework simply ends.  The beautiful finish work exteriorly gives way to rough stones and bricks.  Still it is one of the five largest cathedrals in the world.    It is simply magnificent.  Read more HERE.

Historically a church of this size would take about 500 years to build.  For a contemporary peer comparison, recall Sagrada Familia in Barcelona which began construction in 1882.  Both of these structures have only been under construction for a little over a century.  While there is hope that it will not take another full century complete either structure, compared to their elder equivalents,  are going up at lightning speed.

I was visiting St. John Cathedral with a non-Catholic, unchurched architect who marveled at the building even more than I did (and I was pretty awed.)  What was equally as fascinating to me however was the perceived shift in the direction of those in charge of the cathedral from its inception to the modern day.  Granted, I was only there one day and did not engage anyone in deep conversation, so take this with a grain of salt.  But if the art and architecture’s first impression spoke for itself, it was captivatingly interesting.  From what appeared to be a very traditional Christianity, there are contained within its walls one of the earliest modern depictions of “Christa,” Christ as a woman on a plexiglass cross.  Read more HERE about it.  

Speaking with other Catholic sensitive persons, we discovered that we had similar experiences.  Approaching the building, it gave off a welcoming feeling.  In fact, it looked more Catholic than most modern Catholic churches (if I may be so bold.)  It takes a while of being there and taking in the art that a Catholic steeped in religious art will start to feel a little bit unbalanced.  Not that it is bad but that it is different.  It is like being in a parallel universe where everything is just a little bit off as in the Mandela Effect (read more on that HERE.)  One can see clearly in stone, paint, and other mediums how very similar we are, and how very different we are and as time goes by how that divide seems to deepen.  

If you get the opportunity to visit both St. John and St. Patrick, make many mental notes on theme, topics, theological emphases, and philosophical groundings.  It becomes clear how important the arts are and why the Church needs to take seriously her role as patroness of the arts and, in general, stop buying all her mass produced art out of catalogues.

MONUMENTS AND MONUMENTS

Every brick at St. Sebastian Parish is from the Belden Brick Company in Ohio.  Every brick in our nine buildings was designated where to go by Robert Kraus Sr.  He grew up in Akron and went to St. Bernard Parish School with our founding pastor Monsignor Zwisler.  Monsignor went on to Rome to study and become a priest and Mr. Kraus became an architect opening his offices in the Highland Square area, a hop, skip, and a jump from St. Sebastian.

When (then) Father Zwisler was brought to Akron to found a new parish, his old school chum gave him space for a parish office at his architectural firm and they set about designing first building; a combination church, school, convent, and hall, a building that has held up spectacularly for almost 90 years.

Since then, other buildings have dotted our campus.  The most recent one, the “new” church had the cornerstone set in 1958.  It was this building that his son, Mr. Bob Kraus assisted is some of the design.  Later, the son would go on to design many ecclesial buildings in the Diocese of Cleveland including such places as St. Francis de Sales in Portage Lakes, Sacred Heart in Barberton, and St. Ambrose in Brunswick.  He died this past week and his funeral is today.  What a legacy to leave behind.  His work for the Lord will stand for generations.

But there is one thing that we can do that will stand even longer - guaranteed.  Whether you are a parent, Godparent, catechist, priest, deacon, or supporter, when you help guide a soul toward baptism and faith, you establish a work that lasts eternally.  When the memory of you work fades on earth, the monument built by your efforts is still shiny, new, and impressive in the eternal kingdom.

GET LOST

How about just one more day reprieve from the topic that seems to be on everybody's mind.  I'm going to ignore the elephant for just one more day.

 

Anybody who knows me knows also that I have a thing about being on time.  "We start on time and we end on time" should be written on my grave stone.  But one thing I have learned lately with a little help from my friends is that when this doesn't happen because of factors beyond my control, as long as I am open to it, really great things can happen that would not have otherwise.

 

Part of this I get from Mom.  If there is one thing she treasured it was getting lost or sent on a detour.  She was always sure that this was the beginning of an adventure that we would not have had otherwise.  And often it was the case.  Some of my best memories were not the things we were supposed to do on vacation but the things we got to do and see because we were lost.

 

Of course I credit God and guardian angels for the wonderful phenomenon.  I don't know if God sends you the curve ball to get you where He wants you or if He just makes something good out of a bad situation, but in either case or combination thereof, He gets the credit in my book.

 

So a week ago I am in Ireland.  After having spent a LOT of hours on the bus with 56 of my favorite people, the tour guide said, "We are now going to get back on the bus and go on a tour of the countryside and then end up back here in two hours."

 

I took him aside and said, "You mean we are going to get on that bus, ride for a couple of hours, and end up right back here?"

 

"Yes."

 

 

"I ain't going.  I see you when you get back."  (Above is one of the places I lit candles for various people including the readers of Adam's Ale)

 

A seminarian joined me and we toured around a town called Dingle.  It was a great visit and it was nice to walk around but I felt like I was being too directive.  "Let's go here!  Let's go there!"  So I told the seminarian, "You pick where we are going now.  I'll follow."  (At right, lunch in Dingle.)  Well, we ended up on some back streets that led nowhere and finally had to double back.  I was practicing my newly found spiritual principle of trying to be happy wherever I ended up and not worrying about the time and just enjoying "being" when a man walking out of a post office nearly ran us down.

 

We looked at each other and took in each other's dress and he asked, "You a priest?"

 

"Yes.  Are you?"

 

"Yes.  Roman?"

 

"Roman."

 

He asked us if we had seen this church in Dingle and we said no.  "Father! You MUST see it!  It's in all of our literature.  It would be a shame to come all this way and not see it!"  After explaining that it was not in walking distance and we that our bus was picking us up in 25 minutes, he ushered us into his car and drove us.  "It will only be 10 minutes to get there," he said.

 

We went down lonely one lane roads with grass growing down the middle and shrubbery brushing the sides  of the car.  Only then did it occur to me there was the possibility that he was not a priest at all but a mass murderer and we were probably the next victims, or worse, we were on an Irish ten minutes and not a Slovenian ten minutes and that we would miss the bus by a couple of hours.

 

But no, we finally did hit the Gallarus Oratory (see picture to your left) said to be Ireland's oldest ecclesial building.  Read more HERE.  We stopped and prayed and then he ushered us back into his car, drove like a wild cat and got us back to the bus with two minutes to spare.

 

And that became my favorite memory of the trip.  And it as because we were lost and open to God's creativity.  Here's a view out the door.

I KNOW IT DOESN'T MATTER BUT . . .

We’ve all heard it a thousand times so let’s all say it together: “The Church/parish is not a building, it’s the people.”  Yeah, yeah, I got it and intellectually believe it.  But you know what?  At night I still dream about my home parish.  Not the new building but the one in which I grew up in on Hopican Avenue.  Similarly I am mightily attached to West Akron and the building IN

WHICH the parish of St. Sebastian worships.

 

This Sunday we will be celebrating as a Universal Church the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica, the mother Church building of Church buildings.  I will grant you that if some crazed lunatic bombed the place to smithereens (thanks spell check, I don’t know that I ever spelled that word before) the Church will still exist fully intact though perhaps a little ticked off.  But the fact that we have this celebration means we are kind of blushing, shuffling our feet, head hanging a little with a smirk on our faces saying, “Well, yeah, buildings do kinda, sorta mean something to us even though theologically we could completely do without them.”

 

One of my favorite quotes:  “God does not need cathedrals.  But we do.”

 

So I took Sebastian on a walk through my home town the other day.  I wrote about doing this a couple of summers ago.  The point of this particular walk was to see God’s Magic City Church.  This was formally Sts. Cyril and Methodius Roman Catholic Church founded primarily for the Slovak community.  It was absolutely built in the WRONG place -  a flood plain and was regularly flooded.  But the building was a little gem though the renovations after Vatican II were less than stellar.  It is (was) a tiny Romanesque building and would have made some kind of great shrine or some other use if it weren’t built where Wolf Creek enjoys overflowing its banks.

 

Anyway, on our way there we passed the former-former Sacred Heart Church which is now a non-denominational church.  This is the building in which I cut my teeth.  It is mostly in pretty good shape (though they removed the tile roof and replaced it with a shingle roof which robbed it of much of its character.)  So the congregation there must be doing relatively alright.

I just found this video that showcases the organ from my home parish that I tried to obtain but at the time the current owners did not want to sell.  Now some church in Texas will have it.  Tears at my heart . . .

 

Next we passed the old St. Mary, formally the Polish parish in town.  Never a remarkable building it now looks pretty sad.  The non-denominational congregation there could use some paint and other general maintenance to keep the place looking good.  Who knows how long it will be viable without a huge influx of cash.

 

Then there is God’s Magic City Church.  There was a fire there recently.  The area where the sacristy was is completely gutted.  There is no roof or windows left, just a brick shell.  The nave of the main church is burnt through and the cross seems to stand miraculously though precariously on the charred main beam of the roof.  I know it’s just a building but something about it make me feel incredibly sad.  It’s more than it just having been a beautiful building worth keeping around.  It is sad to see a place that roofed so much good so savagely devastated.  Like spilled milk, seeing something that represents such goodness so utterly wasted is somehow disturbing. 

 

Is the “Church” less for having lost a building?  No.  But we have lost a symbol of our mission.  A touchstone that reminds us to keep on track.  Another relic resigned to the memory of the current generation. 

 

No big deal.

 

And huge deal.

WITH NO ARTIFICIAL SWEETENERS

Truth?  What is truth?

 

Real?  What is real?

 

Last night we were sitting out on the loggia watching the storm come in and discussing matters of faith.  We have candles out on the loggia that are spring loaded; that is, the candle is inside a tube and a spring at the bottom pushes the candle up so that can burn all the way down to the nub while all the time always “looking like” a new candle recently lit.

 

We do a lot of things that look or sound like we are doing the “real” thing.  Depending on the parish at which you worship you may have fake bells in the tower, an electronic organ made to sound like a pipe organ, fake pillars made out of plaster, art printed by machine and made to look like a painting, faux marble, silk flowers, electronic candles, acetate vestments, and occasionally canned homilies.  Does it matter?  What is the value of “real?”

 

I once had a book (that has since been lost) talking about such things.  It even railed against followers on candles because it obstructed the view of the glow of the candle in the wax at the top of stick and prevented the natural dripping of bee’s wax.  I don’t know if I would go quite that far but I like the direction in which the author was looking.

 

Having only fake experience of things is every bit as barbaric as having only seen artificial night.  Most people have never seen a true night sky undimmed by light pollution.  Few moderns have an idea of the beauty and majesty of the Milky Way or the fascination of seeing a satellite pass quickly by with the naked eye.  The total experience of a true night sky absolutely jammed packed with starts only comes from pictures, planetariums, and Star Trek movies.  These take the place of real and “real” becomes the interesting second of our primary experience.  “You know, you can really see it much better at the planetarium.” 

 

There are four paths to God; the One, the True, the Good, and the Beautiful.  “Real” art is true, is good, and is beautiful particularly when it is connected to the Eucharist and when it is touched by the genius of the human hand or the action of the elements.  Therefore is it not good to come as closely as we can to that which is most elemental such as air actually passing through a pipe to create a pipe organ sound, fire that produces the light of what we want to label a candle, a bell that rings out what we call “the bells,” flowers that don’t grow dusty and faded before they grow unusable, a painting that is unique to an artist who produced it and can’t be found in every parish church that you might stop into, to have a place that is not “virtual” out of convenience or cost as much as possible as clever as the virtual might be, so as to be in closer proximity to that which is real, True, Good, and Beautiful? 

 

There is something here difficult to articulate and one either gets it or they don’t.  And obtaining it is sometimes easier to achieve than others.  And it can go too far.  But the less we live with artificial as real, the closer we live in truth.

 

COMPLETELY UNRELATED TOPIC:  Which is why I hate aluminum siding.  There is always an attempt to make it look like wood.  It is not wood.  It doesn’t look like wood.  So why not make aluminum siding look like aluminum siding.  What great and interesting thing can it do that perhaps we can’t do with wood?  Could we come up with new designs and applications so instead of looking like an artificial wooden house, it could look like a beautiful aluminum house?

 

*sigh*

 

Does anybody out there feel this way?

FRIDAY POTPOURRI: THE END OF THE MYSTERIES

I think with this post all of the mysteries of the church building are now solved (although one never knows.)  You may recall last week the picture of the mysterious holy water font-looking thing that projected out of the wall a little higher than knee height around which was built a bookcase. 

 

For a few years (when it was rediscovered) I had no idea what it was and then two weeks ago I stumbled across a mysterious door that seemed to solve the mystery. 

 

I was pretty sure I knew what it was but it was confirmed by Mr. R. Krause whose father designed all of the beautiful buildings at St. Sebastian.  He confirmed my analysis of the clues with this Email:

 

Father, I had considerable to do with the construction of the church. My memory is now in such a state that I do not recall much. I think that there was a holy water reservoir in the SE vestibule at which parishioners could obtain a supply of holy water. I do remember this: Father Byrider instructed me to devise a pamphlet rack for the north wall of the SE vestibule, which I did, it was built, and that is what is there now.

 

Respectfully

 

R M Kraus sr

 

So there you go.  Mystery solved.  Thank you Mr. Kraus.  I am a little sad that all of the mysteries of the building seem to be solved now.  Every church (and theater building) should have their quirks that make people scratch their heads and wonder. 

 

I remember my first week at St. Sebastian.  One of my best friends came over and we started exploring nooks and crannies of the building.  Unfortunately someone had thrown out everything older than a few decades so there were no finds lurking in an attic or basement box, but we were stymied as to how to get into the bell tower.  We knew when we were standing at the inside base of it, we could see it from the stained glass windows in the choir loft, but could not figure out how to get inside (and to the top) of it.  Finally the plant manager, Aaron, showed us how.  It is a rather convoluted route and the beginning of the solving of the mysteries.

 

The nice thing is that even though I write this down, post it on line, show people and hand on the information, sooner rather than later it will all be forgotten and the next guy will have fun trying to figure out what exactly are the mysteries of St. Sebastian.

FRIDAY POTPOURRI: DEFINING YOUR PARISH: LAST THINGS

There are a few other features that you might want to touch upon. These are not symbols so much but they would be very helpful for people to know about. Take the Stations of the Cross. Most people think the stations are pictures around a Catholic Church marking the Passion of Christ. They are not. They are fourteen wooden cross to which pictures may be attached. The indulgence is attached to the wooden crosses not the pictures.

If your church was consecrated you should have a number of crosses on the walls of your church. The number may vary but usually it is twelve. Most people think that the candles are that which are important. They are not. The important part is the cross, painted, sculpted, or hung, in front of which a candle may be placed. These are the spots where the bishop consecrated the building with holy oil.

Others may benefit from seemingly ordinary things being explained. What do all the markings on the Paschal candle mean? Is there heraldry in your parish? Why is it there (there are old posts on AA to help explain this) and what do they mean? How about relics?  What about the relics in (or under) yor altar?  What do you see – that perhaps you don’t see in Protestant Churches – that you never thought to wonder why it is there?

Here’s something that came up since I wrote to you last week. Remember the comment about the twelve pillars and how most parishes that have pillars tend to have 12? Well, I was at a church this past week that I believe was built in 1929 that only had four pillars. Upon closer inspection the tops of the pillars were decorated with symbols of the four Evangelists. The pillars, then, represented the four Gospels upon which the Church is built. Pretty cool! I hope you discover cool things about your parish.

FRIDAY POTPOURRI: DEFINING YOUR PARISH: WRITTEN IN STONE

There is another aspect of symbolism that may be built right into your building. Well, actually, it IS your building. For some of you there will be a wealth of symbolism, for others, none at all.

Particularly for older well thought out buildings there will be all kinds of symbols hidden in brick and mortar. The very direction that your building faces may be significant. Before Vatican II it was stipulated that churches be built on an east-west axis. Churches that were not built thusly received permission to be built otherwise but the Mass was said to be facing “liturgical east” as opposed to actually facing east. This was because the priest faced the same way as the people – toward God – toward the east, the east symbolizing Christ with the rising of the sun (Son.) The rose window in a west wall then was said to allow the last rays of the sun, which was setting in the west, to fall on the words of the Gospel which would be on the altar, which, in the extraordinary form, would be open facing the people.

Notice that if you have pillars, far more often than not there are twelve of them no matter the size of the building. Twelve represents not only the twelve tribes of Israel but also the twelve apostles. It is a number that means “the whole Church.” The twelve pillars then represent the whole Church gathered at every Mass.

Colors may mean something. For example, one church no longer in the hands of our diocese had their twelve pillars made of different colors of marble representing all the different people of the world. Another parish (who has since changed their color scheme) once had an interior done in red, white, and blue (sounds garish, I know, but it was actually done quite tastefully.) This tied in the colors of the flag of the nation that this nationality parish represented as well as the colors of the flag of the United States.

Once again there is a danger here of seeing symbols where they do not exist and missing them where they do. For example, there was one parish that I though the architect had purposefully put crosses on the doors by the design of the windows. “Pure coincidence,” he replied. (And they wouldn’t have worked that well as symbols anyway.) On the other hand, common doors can be full of symbols. While attending on class on set designing for the theater the professor told us to be careful of the type of doors we design into a set. “For example,” he told us, “never use this common door on the set that takes place in a Jewish neighborhood.” The door is one you might find in your house with one vertical board running down the center and two cross beams, the bottom one being quite a bit wider that than the other two. The vertical and one of the cross beams make the Cross. The wide cross beam is the open Bible.

More modern churches may have other symbols. One may be in the shape of a boat to represent the bark of Peter (or the Church) or, as in one case in our diocese, it was designed to look like a dove or the Holy Spirit. Once again, access to archives helps tremendously in these endeavors.

FRIDAY POTPOURRI: DEFINING YOUR PARISH: PAINTED HEAVEN

 Decorative painting outside an occasional picture seems to be a fading if not dead trend. Modern architecture does not seem even to lend itself much to it. This is a shame if we consider our church buildings “catechism in stone” or “catechisms in sheet rock and particle board.” It is an opportunity not just to make our churches look “pretty” but to continue opportunities for education in the faith.

I suppose however the first step is to separate the merely decorative from something that has substance. The decorative is not bad for after all the Mass is a slice of heaven on earth and our buildings might represent this by trying to mirror that beauty. It is, however, simply not our concern for this project.

Paintings of saints are the easiest for they are the most obvious and what we talked about with statues is applicable here also. Other things might not be so clear. Take for example paintings of angels. They might be a merely decorative touch – or they might be a reference from Scripture depending on where they are. Two angels kneeling by the tabernacle might be reminiscent of the arc of the covenant, a cherub on a frame might denote that what is pictured is holy but other than that is decorative. There is a danger both in reading too much into what is there (at which point readers will roll their eyes and say to themselves, “come on”) and missing some very interesting and informative possibilities. Especially if you have a highly decorated church, take your time and give it lots of thought.

Painted symbols might also need more explanation than statuary because they can be a little more difficult to understand. Take the time to explain some of it. For example there was a local church that had in its sanctuary high in the ceiling what looked like to be a giant “S” with three vertical slash lines through it. It looked a bit like a dollar sign; an “$” but with two additional slash lines. This is not a great thing to be misinterpreted for. It was so taken incorrectly that when the church was redone this symbol was replaced. In actuality it was “IHS” put together in an artistic form such as you might find your initials sewn on to your bath towels. “IHS” is the first three letters of the name “Jesus” in Greek and so make up His monogram. This kind of information is very helpful to those for whom you are writing.




There is also the possibility that your church was white washed or had greatly reduced former painting. Such is life. In a separate chapter you might want to find old photographs and tell the symbolism of what once was. This is one reason why: our seminary chapel is a bizarrely constructed building. One can find information of how it was once used and all of a sudden the layout starts to make sense. The paintings that once covered the walls tell the story in more detail. Having the story and the pictures do not change anything today, but besides being interesting explains much and gives a greater appreciation of why it looks the way that it does today.

FRIDAY POTPOURRI: LET US BUILD THE CITY OF GOD

Let’s say that you are going to design a Catholic Church; where might you begin? Of course there are initial considerations: location, local architecture, the shape of the property, etc. But when it starts with the actual consideration of the building where might you start? The altar? The roof line? A floor layout?

If I were going to start, I would start on the ground outside which I think is often neglected. A Catholic church is not designed only for Sunday Mass. So much more goes on and too often a church is first designed for Sunday Mass and then everything else is figured out. A church building should (IMHO) be designed for the Easter Vigil. If that is done, everything else practically falls into place.

What is the first thing that takes place at the Easter Vigil? The blessing of the fire. In the design of your church where does this take place? Are you able to have a good fire going for the congregation to see or do you have to have a small fire burning in a hibachi that only a few people can gather around and enjoy? St. Sebastian has a small but serviceable plaza on front of the church building with a flower garden in the middle which is of course flowerless at the Easter Vigil. It is there that the Boy Scouts are able to get a decent fire going. Another parish has a round cement pad in the grass in front of the church that is used once a year, everyone gathering around though it might be wet and possibly snowy.

Then, if you are able to have the whole congregation join you out for the blessing of the fire, the next problem is getting them all inside for the singing of the Exultet. If you have two small doors squeezing you into the church it is going to take forever until the third “Christ our Light” is sung. We have three sets of doors in front without many steps to negotiate and they serve pretty well though even with that it takes a spell for everyone to get in.

In Europe the entrance doors to the church are sometimes set in a set of much larger doors so that on great occasion such as this or when there are processions, the front of the church can be opened to let large numbers of people move in and out on just such occasions.

That being said, front doors to churches are often unimpressive but there is a tradition wherein the front doors of the church were labeled “Porta Coeli” or the doors to heaven (the Mass being the closest thing on earth to heaven” and at times the door would be decorated in much the same way as the reredos of the high altar. The altar brought us to heaven, the doors brought us to the altar.

So there is where I would start.

IN DEFENCE OF DA FENCE

There was a time in the seminary (times, they have a-changed) when the altar was in the center of the nave on an oriental rug, which constituted the sanctuary, with chairs placed around it for whomever was attending. One day a seminarian was giving the homily. I don’t remember the exact context of the message but he asked the question if everything is made by God, is one place holier than any another? Standing on the Oriental rug he asked, “Am in a holier place now than,” and he stepped off of the rug, “now?”

The situation was much the same way in my first assignment. The daily chapel was a room behind the main church. The place where the altar, tabernacle, ambo, and celebrant’s chair sat would have been a hallway passage between the two doors that let into the chapel with pews fanning back from there. In fact, it was used as a hallway. It had to be. It was the only way to get to the pews or pass from one side of the church to the other without walking across the main sanctuary. In essence there was even less of a distinction between sanctuary and nave here than in the seminary.

So is – or should – the sanctuary area be any more holy than any other part of the church building? What does holy mean? Holy means set apart for the use of the kingdom. Is not the whole church holy – set apart for use to further the kingdom of God? Of course it is. A whole church is consecrated, not just the sanctuary area. The whole building needs to be treated with a certain amount of reverence. This is not just another building.

But further, the sanctuary is not just another space in the holy space. Here is where the most important thing on earth takes place. Here the Word of God is proclaimed; here Jesus is made present Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity. The altar is not just another table on which something grand takes place. Therefore the altar should never be used for anything unconnected to the liturgy. It is not a convenient place to set your scissors as you work on flowers, it is not place to set your papers or to lean against.

This does not make God happier or more holy. This practice is for our benefit. It reminds us not to become too complacent, too used to the miraculous and mystery in our midst. It says to us that something far too important happens here to be taken lightly. Set your scissors somewhere – anywhere else but here.

By extension also the sanctuary. This is not just another space. It is not even just another holy space within a holy space. There is something elevated here. We are to treat this space distinctly different than all other spaces. The general Instruction of the Roman Missal says that the sanctuary should be marked off from the body of the church by elevation or distinct design or architectural appointments. As one wanders around the church, it should be impossible to accidently find yourself here. In a terrible analogy it is like not walking on someone’s grave. Nobody is hurt by it. Not you, not the person who died, and not God. But not doing so reminds us of the dignity of the person buried there, of the reverence we should have for death, for the sensibilities of those who love the person, and remind us of our own mortality.

So we come to the altar rail which has had a fall from popularity that rivals that of Tiger Woods. Recently it was suggested by a parishioner that it be removed from the parish building. Besides making a terrible mar in the architecture would it harm anything to remove it? No. God wouldn’t be angry. Even the most orthodox liturgist would not think it a crime against the Church since the sanctuary would still meet the requirements for being distinctly set apart. But I think we would lose something.

One of the reasons people do not like altar rails is that it makes them feel distant from the altar. As if there is some barrier between them and the altar. Well – let’s be honest – there is. But if having an altar in a hallway is one extreme is having an altar rail the other?

One argument that I make over and over again is that symbols that were redefined in the 60s and 70s are being redefined once again. The things that were fought against represented by many symbols of the Church no longer exist and younger persons cannot connect them with what others see as oppressive signs of a bygone Church structure. Arguments to the contrary simply fail to move them and when we spend a lot of time arguing about them young people (here I mean approximately 45 and under) simply become disinterested, wonder what all the fuss is about, and, tragically, lose interest.

So we come to the altar rail. Quite frankly I think most people simply don’t register them. It is a bit of a non-issue. But looking back at being in church buildings with altar rails and not having grown up with what is now called the extraordinary form I find they have played a curiously opposite role in my life than that of which they are accused.

Far from making me think that I am somehow excluded or unworthy to approach the sanctuary, I find that they have always drawn me to the sanctuary. Stopping in a church on a visit I would always find myself kneeling at such a spot, not only getting one of the closest vantage points for looking at a beautiful sanctuary but also then (while I am kneeling) being drawn to prayer. As some people see them as off putting, they can also be an invitation.

Now, you certainly do not have to agree with my analysis. Except for the call for the sanctuary to be set apart from the rest of the church, everything contained herein is strictly my opinion (brilliant and humble, but just my opinion) and you will find scores of much more educated and professional persons who vehemently disagree. And that’s why it is a big Church. But be careful about completely ruling them out at least in such things as already exist as if it is a foregone conclusion that they should be wiped out from the face of the earth. In an age where sanctity is a dying concept it may be wise to not rail against such things.

FRIDAY POTPOURRI: ITE MISSA EST

This coming weekend Bishop Lennon will be arriving to Akron to have the final parish Mass at Saint Mary on South Main Street in Akron. One hates to see any parish close for any reason but such things happen. This one is particularly sad because the building is, IMHO, one of the most architecturally significant buildings in the diocese. Unfortunately the Catholic neighborhood around it has shrunk to a considerable extent and so this is the result. I hope that those of you who could were able to stop by and see the church before it closed (or will see it this weekend.) Interestingly enough the school will remain open. (There is a large nin-Catholic community that it serves.)

Previously on A.A. we had a tour of the exterior of the building, a limited tour of the interior, and had a trip of the bell tower. Today there is one more tour to be taken: Through the tunnels underneath the parish buildings!

Fr. B. was kind enough to take some time out of his busy schedule give Fr. Pf. and me a little trip through these seldom seen places. I remember once the 8th grade boys at my first assignment wanting to see what the basement of the church looked like. It was small, neat, and largely empty and they were deeply disappointed. They would not have been at Saint Mary!

Opening the door in the basement of the school we entered a tunnel. I could easily stand in it (I don’t know if you could tell from this first picture) and it led us to the large room underneath the plaza between the church and school.

This picture does not do this room justice. It once housed giant boilers and coal bins but is now replaced with a much more efficient heating system that takes up a fraction of the space. The room is quite large and very high. It could be a small ball room except that it is a basement! Two new, large, cement pillars were erected in the middle of it to shore up the plaza above.

We next passed underneath the church. You can get an idea of the size of the tunnels from seeing Fr. Pf and Fr. B ahead of me turning on the lights.

The wall in the background is actually a large semi-circle. It follows the shape of the apse. The pillar is there to help support the great weight of the high altar.

These tunnels wind around under the nave of the church. A few years ago a University of Akron cinema student used these tunnels in a movie about the seven deadly sins. Apparently this was hell. Who knew that hell had incandescent light bulbs?

These are the cold air returns. If you look above you can see what appears to be coffee cans handing down from the ceiling. If you look up you can see this grate, which would be in the floor or the nave, and see into the church. Here you can get a glimpse of a stained glass window in the clerestory from the basement. Legend has it that once a lady dropped a particularly valuable ring down one of these vents and it was never found. People have searched for it to this very day (I admit, I kept an eye out.) Determined persons with metal detectors have made the rounds and came away with rings and other interesting objects that have fallen through the grates over the years but the ring was never found.

I found a marble.

FRIDAY POTPOURRI: A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME

We have been talking about basilicas as building designated by the Church to be such. But there is also a basilica style of architecture. As opposed to a designation which would also have in it the symbols of a church thusly titled, it is the manner of construction that makes these churches basilicas. (Not all basilicas are of basilica architecture and not all churches built of basilica architecture are basilicas!)

Basilicas began their lives as public buildings during Roman times. Found at the center of town they were large gathering spaces in which business and legal transactions took place. There were pillard aisles down the side to provide space for booths and such. The roof over the central area was raised in order to allow light in through a clerestory. At one end there was an apse, usually having a dais where the local magistrate would sit and conduct business.

When Christianity became legal (and the official religion of the empire) in the fourth century, large buildings for worship needed to be built/utilized. The design of pagan temples would not do. They were not intended for such things. Sacrifices were made out of doors with the temple as a background. The temple itself was meant to hold an image of the god and the treasury – not large meeting spaces for ritual. But the basilica fit the bill! There was the large open space for people to pray together and Christ and the altar of sacrifice took the place of the local magistrate in the dais which was already designed to be seen by all.

This type of building is still widely in use today in the Church. The question must be asked, “Why?” The answer is simple: because it works. The liturgy grew up around the basilica style floor plan. That is why often other attempts at modern architecture often fail in one way or another. An architect friend once said to me, “The mark of a great church is not that it works for Sunday Mass, but that it works well for the Easter Vigil.” The basilica style done well is not the only one that does this of course but it does work and does so brilliantly.

MONDAY DIARY: THE LITTLE PERKS

I do enjoy being a pastor. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. But even the best of jobs can have their tedious side. But amidst the usual brouhaha and costmary emergencies are always some distractions that add spice to the week.

One example was in speaking to priest friends from around the world. The priest reported earlier to you from India told me of his first experience of snow in Akron. He walked outside and saw this white matter falling from the sky and assumed that there was a fire somewhere and the ashes were falling over the parish grounds. When they started falling at an alarming rate it occurred to him that it would be this thing called snow.

The priest from Barcelona went with a walk with Sebastian, Fr. P and I and we came across a garage sale. This was the most interesting thing to him. “Are they always open? Is it like a store? This is just excess stuff that they have that they SELL?” On our second walk the next week he asked, “Will there be any garage sales today?” I think he is addicted.

IN OTHER NEWS:

Our choir was in the WCLV Jubilation choir competition which was held at our cathedral church of St. John. The purpose of the contest is to promote quality Church music from classical to modern and to recognize the fine choirs of north east Ohio from all denominations. St. Sebastian was one of the six finalists this year.

I was late getting to the contest and crept into the cathedral. Our bishop, bishop Lennon was sitting there and greeted me and asked if I would like to sneak down to the bowels of the cathedral building to let the choir know that I was there. We wound our way through the maze of the basement until we came to the room in which the choir was preparing. We prayed together and I gave them a blessing after which I said, “I’d have the bishop bless you too but that might be considered cheating!”

Back through the maze we found ourselves once again in the back of the cathedral. (It was swell of the bishop to perform that kindness.) I sat down and listened to other choirs. There was no clapping since the contest was performed live on the air. When the choir before us finished a man stood and waved his finger in the air giving us permission to applaud and the announcer, a smooth speaking man with a deep voice made some announcements and then said “And now back to the WCLV studios. The 2010 Jubilation Choir Competition will resume in about ten minutes.” And with that we were given permission to talk and move about.

Our choir then started to take its place at the front of the sanctuary. We were one of the largest choirs there and as a matter of fact they can no longer where our robes (which are getting quite old as it is) because had grown so large in numbers. We were ushered back to our seats and after some brief remarks by the announcers the choir was introduced, “. . .under the direction of Lynn M. Fry-Steward” and the choir began, “And the glory, the glory of the Lord . . .” from Handel’s Messiah. They also performed “Lacrymosa for Mozart’s Requiem, “Ubi Caritas” by Maurice Durfle, and “Arise, Your Light Has Come” by David Danner. At the end when the man waved his hand in the air the cathedral broke out in thunderous applause! It was a thrilling night.

In the end we did not win first placed (but just being there was an honor) but IMHO I think one would be hard pressed to say that anyone else came as close as we.

The other interesting thing that happened was that my ceiling in my room started leaking. We had a heavy downpour on Saturday just as we were getting ready for our International Festival. I remember listening to the rain and thinking, “Why does it sound like it is closer than it should be?” Sure enough water was gushing in. The cabinet in which the TV sat had a quarter of an inch of water trapped in the top. (Thank goodness is was well built enough not to let it soak down onto the TV!) I put buckets out and went to the festival for a few minutes.

Then it was time to go up on the roof and see what was what. I gentleman from the parish volunteered to help and we dug out a latter. I did not want to waste his time and so chucking my cassock went about the business in dress pants and white shirt with cufflinks. Mom would have been furious. We put the ladder up to one roof and got that high, pulled the ladder up and reached the level of the second roof. Finally we hauled ourselves up to the top roof and found inches deep in water. The interesting part was that once up there we discovered the trap door that is right over the back steps. We really only needed a step ladder. We could have just used the stairs the rest of the way. Anyway the drains had plugged! We unplugged the drains and the water rushing down them sounded like jet engines.

Then it was time to go back down. We had not used the ladder to get up to the third roof but scaled the wall. Funny how much more difficult it seemed trying to get back down. Down seems like such an easy direction. In any event I had been very successful in keeping mostly clean but the effort of climbing back down ended with a big green smear – of course on my white shirt.

Well that was the excitement from St. Sebastian this week. Sorry it was so long.