God and shopping malls

American Papist picked up a story about the coolest idea I have heard in a long time - Capuchin priests making Confession available in a shopping mall. Brilliant! What a great evangelization tool, reminding people about spiritual needs in the midst of so much buying and selling. Why doesn't my mall have a chapel?

And so, yet another example of Catholic architecture evolving in the 21st century. I was just reading about a church in Pittsburgh that is now a brewery and restaurant. The religious pun names for beers is cute I guess, but I was disturbed by the report that "Indeed, the huge beer vat that produces the beer that patrons are drinking is situated on the altar directly under the baldochino." Seriously?



The same article profiled my childhood parish as an example of post-Vatican II architecture. I was rather surprised to turn the page and see a photo of the Activities Center! The author's interpretation felt a bit off, though- why did she not include a picture of the current church building? Whom did she interview to get the scoop on parish outrage over the plexiglass/bronze crucifix? (Shown here in all its Christmas glory.) There are no footnotes. Curious.

Two Palaces

On my San Antonio trip, I visited the Spanish Governor's Palace, a well-preserved downtown adobe building dating to around 1749. I thought it would be fun to compare it to the reproduction Governor's Palace in Colonial Williamsburg. Besides the contrast of Spanish and English building styles, their difference connote the difference in political clout and trade access of the two cities. CW's palace strives to be an equal with mansions in the mother country, while San Antonio's one-story, six-room home appears to be making the best of local materials.

The biggest history lesson I took away from San Antonio's palace was that people of the past were much hardier than we are! That morning was about 90 degrees. Even wearing shorts and walking past electric fans, I was ready for a break from the stuffy indoors in about 10 minutes. How did those Spanish aristocrats in ruffled shirts and high-collared jackets survive? How did business meetings not deteriorate into bickering between sweaty, cranky colonial staff? Were they just accustomed to the climate from birth?

Cathedral sights, Southwest Edition

Last week I unexpectedly got to spend some time in San Antonio, Texas. I quickly fell in love with the festive, friendly atmosphere there, not to mention all the incredible Tex-Mex cuisine. I don't know if I will ever really accept salsa from a jar again.

The sights were also amazing. Besides the Alamo, downtown is dotted with dozens of fascinating historic buildings. I went to Mass at the San Fernando Cathedral, which was built in 1749. Pope John Paul II visited in 1987.

Despite its 18th century style, the magnificent retablo of Christ the and evangelists was added only during recent renovations. The original sanctuary decorations were lost in an 1820's fire. (Which makes San Fernando a survivor in the style of the Wren, for all you WM alums.)


I loved this painting in the narthex of the women at Christ's tomb.


A shrine to El Cristo Negro is decorated with prayer requests.

Archeological dig in my parents' garage

During all this epic packing, I've come across artifacts from my past life that I haven't seen in years. Old textbooks and class notes, even the half-completed application from that time I wanted to study at the Jagellonian University in Poland. Now that a few years have passed I have no qualms about pitching all the physics tests and modern Russian fiction readings from the early WM years.

I also found the calendar pages that decorated my walls senior year of high school - cathedrals and architectural photography of India. The more things change...

Lindell Boulevard at sunset

One of my first attempts at serious photoshopping. I love how the modern Bank of America building contrasts with its older neighbors.

Ugly As Sin?

Hilarious Catholic blogger Carolina Cannonball is sponsoring a contest on her site to find the "Ugliest Church Art." Since I grew up attending Mass in 1980's modernist buildings, I have a special place in my heart for religious decorations that make you go "wait...WHAT?!?!"

Here are my entries, all from my Monroe Scholar project on modern Catholic architecture.

At a Chicago parish, the Brain Coral Tabernacle. (I think it's supposed to be a burning bush, which is not a bad concept in theory.)

At Chicago's Holy Name Cathedral, a tabernacle that I have heard compared to both a Weber kettle grill and the flames of Hell. This item is one of many questionable modern pieces installed in the late 1960's "renovation."

Back in a Virginia parish, here's a tabernacle that always makes me think of a Star Wars TIE fighter.
Lastly, lest tabernacles get all the attention, here's a statue from my home parish, St. Mark's. It's supposed to be the Holy Family with St. Mark's symbol, the lion. As a child, I just thought it was terrifying. Why does St. Joseph look like he's in a coma?

Leaving St. Louis

Hey Arch. You're looking fine as usual in the early morning light. It was awfully nice of you to see me off from the Amtrak station last week. I miss you already!



Walking around downtown Chicago with my cousin made me realize how truly small St. Louis' is. Still, I kind of miss how I could get downtown in less than 30 minutes. I also miss how the streets are in a reasonable grid, and how you can usually hit the speed limit on I-44 at rush hour. The past three days of northern Virginia traffic have reminded me of how insane the "National Capital Area" is.

"To arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time." - TS Eliot, an STL native

Yesterday was our VSC Year-End Mass of Thanksgiving, a sort-of graduation from this year of service. Our names are now enrolled in the VSC alumni book, bringing us one step closer to leaving St. Louis. Former VSCs, site supervisors, and of course the Daughters of Charity were there. Nicest Boss in the World and even the NFNF CEO were there to cheer me on, so to speak. They almost did so audibly, but then decided it might be inappropriate for church. (See why my office is so much fun?)

These closing ceremonies took place in the same place as our opening Mass: the Daughters' Provincial House chapel. I love this little room in its classical simplicity. The skylight over the altar always reminds me of an impluvium in an ancient Roman atrium. Yesterday the sunlit room was full of pride, tears, and memories. Remember when we first came here? How excited and nervous we were? How we barely knew about each other? How much we had to learn about service? How long a whole year seemed?

And now, in the blink of an eye, it's almost over. We can't stay in VSC forever, and life keeps flowing on to the next stage. We only have to look to the wedding of a VSC the night before to see that Life goes on.
We also saw it in the Daughter who passed away in her sleep that same night. Sr. Mary Patrice "slipped away like she always does, like a cat," one Sister said. A petite former school principal, Patrice was an assistant and dear friend to the VSC director. It's a harsh blow to realize that we won't see her friendly face on our doorstep anymore. God willing, she's smiling up in heaven now instead, beginning her story of eternal life. Her death reminds us all of how short and precious our time on earth is.

Life goes on, and we're back where we started: the love of Jesus pressing us onward.

Looking for the best of both worlds

This past Saturday I went on a mission to find Confession available in the morning, and my ensuing adventure ended up symbolizing my current feelings on the Liturgy and church architecture. Here's what happened.

Act I: Knowing that I had two Tower Grove kickball games in the afternoon, I perused the Archdiocesan website for AM Confession. You would think in a town with Catholic churches every mile or so there would be plenty, but that was not the case. Interestingly, the only parishes offering Absolution before lunch were housed in very mid-century modern buildings. There has to be some symbolism there.


Act II: At 9AM I drove down unexplored South City streets to St. Stephen the Protomartyr in Holly Hills. (10 points for the multi-syllabic name.) Upon arriving, I found many parishioners - Knights of Columbus?- hard at work landscaping. The church appeared to be one of those "Chicago Style" places where the school came first (1931). After decades of Mass in the school basement or auditorium, the "real" church was completed in 1962.

I'm always fascinated by these barely Pre-Vatican II churches. They retain the bare bones of a traditional structure, but also try hard to be hip with the times. The floorplan is still cruciform and confessionals are still booths, but everything is very simple and streamlined. Artwork is present, but minimalist or stylized.

My new Protomartyr friend certainly delivered on the geometric shapes and non-traditional stained-glass. I think the window depicts St. Stephen having his heavenly vision.


I felt right at home in this modernist place, but I was a little put off by the commotion of altar guild ladies watering plants and whatnot. (I was also afraid they would yell at me for taking pictures.) Confession was also, um, interesting. The priest curtly rushed through his advice, like he was annoyed to be in a penitential box at this hour of the morning. It was rather ironic to have someone bark at me to trust in God and go "get to know Jesus better" in prayer. Something must have been bothering this impatient man. Maybe the altar guild ladies had been nagging him.

So I went to a pew for my reflective penance... and I could. not. pray. Between the plant-watering and chatting in the sacristy and lurking tabernacle in the back corner, I couldn't really concentrate on Jesus. So I took a few pictures and left.


Act III: I had been planning to photograph the Old Cathedral anyway, so I went up the highway to the riverfront. The Basilica of St. Louis the King is the oldest cathedral west of the Mississippi, completed in 1834. Its elegant neo-classical interior is unusual in this city.

Ahh, much better. It was easy to spot Jesus here.

Some tourists milled about, but they paid heed to the sign requesting "reverent silence." We smiled at each other as we walked by the statues and other artwork. Two women arranged flowers for a wedding later in the day, but they spoke in hushed tones.

Kneeling in the warm sunshine that poured in the west windows, I spent longer than my required 10 minutes of "get to know Jesus time."


Finis: So there you have my current Eucharistic mental dilemma. Respect and appreciation, but also skepticism for the spare modern buildings and cheesy guitar hymns that formed me as a Christian. A longing for reverent silence and beauty that is welcoming, not intimidating.

What do you think? Which church do you like better?

St. Francis de Sales, "The Cathedral of South St. Louis"

I've often driven past this beautiful church on my way to pick up San Jose Volunteer from her child care job, but I never saw the interior until this past Sunday. Texas Volunteer and I ventured out to the Extraordinary Form (Pre-Vatican II) Latin High Mass at the St. Francis de Sales Oratory. It was my first time at a Mass like that. Despite my growing interest in the EF and my knowledge of Latin, I had mixed emotions when I actually experienced it. It was confusing and frustrating to worship in a way almost completely unlike the Masses I know. I'll have to give the EF another try after I have learned more about it.

Luckily the architecture of the church was easy to love. This soaring Gothic Revival building was completed in 1908 and is now on the National Register of Historic Places. German dedications on the stained glass windows remind vistors of the immigrants who labored to build the church.

The 300-foot steeple is visible from several blocks away but badly in need of repair. There's a capital campaign underway to help restore "The Leaning Tower of St. Louis." It was so windy on Sunday we thought the tower mightjust blow over!

Inside, the 52-foot reredos makes the sanctuary the focal point and draws the eye upward. The statues of Mary and John at the Crucifixion remind worshipers what the Mass is all about.
The intricately carved pulpit on the left has panels depicting the four Evangelists.


The angels are watching the Mass too!

I was very impressed by the diligence and reverence of all the altar boys. Maybe if we had sat in a pew this close up the 130-foot aisle we would have a had a better idea of what was going on at Mass.


The nave is also full of artwork and symbolism. Here's the Annunciation fresco in the left transept, above the side altar to the Infant of Prague


Fresco of the Fall of Man in the right transept. The side altar honors Our Lady of Perpetual Help, a patroness of the Institute of Christ the King which staffs the St. Francis de Sales Oratory.

St. John's Retreat Center in Plymouth, MI

Ok, we really didn't hang out in the swanky hotel lobby during the Vincentian Family Gathering, but I did get to spend some time with interesting church architecture.

According to a brochure at the front desk, the main chapel is done in an "almost-Medieval" adaptation of the Umbrian Style. Dedicated in 1955, it served as the chapel for St. John's Seminary until the school closed in 1988. (And was converted into a retreat center/popular wedding location, I assume.)



I liked that the Woman clothed with the Sun is depicted on the left- hand part of the mosaic.

Pews were in a choir arrangement. Note the marble inlaid floors. The walls are rough-textured Mankato stone and the pews are oak. (Hopefully after grad school I can throw around terms like that more easily.)



The Holy Family Chapel for daily Mass is definitely more modern. The room is a rectangle, but seating is in the round.




The tile circle patterns echo the patio tiles of the Mary garden outside. Overall the effect of the basement setting is coziness, not claustrophobia.


The tabernacle chapel? nook? was full of lovely sunlight and featured icons of Mary and Joseph. All the artwork in the chapel was printed on lucite and lit from behind.

Scenes from my 'hood

You know what I don't miss about the DC suburbs? Vinyl siding. None of the houses here have it. Instead, every little house is made of brick, stone, and/or stucco. Their sturdy coziness never gets old as I travel around the neighborhood.



You know what else never gets old? Going to my library for a tote full of books. It's more modern-looking than most buildings near my house, and its insides are eclectic and intriguing. The books aren't the only cool part, the people there are fascinating. There's the tall man with the knit rasta hat who always works the front desk. There are moms with toddlers, people with backpacks napping in chairs, college kids thumbing the DVD cards. And then there are the Orthodox Jewish guys, who fascinate me. They lope along like any guy in his twenties, calling friends on their cells. The only difference is the yarmulkes on their head and the tallis fringe peeking from their fleece jackets. I've always felt like I appreciated my Jewish ancestry, but I've never lived in a town where you can see people walking to synagogue every Saturday afternoon.

I'm not ADD, but my library card is. I always feel like I'll be uncultured or bored if all my books are the same. Here's what I got this time:

Doc In the Box and Accessory to Murder - two of the Elaine Viets mystery novels I am hooked on
The Covenant - a sappy novel in which our Amish heroine battles intrigue. American sects and cults ahoy!
One Hundred Years of Solitude - One of those "books everyone should read" I hear it's about history and memory, which is a bonus
Stalin's Children - Three generations of Russian history. I should also get back in touch with the Eastern European history I used to obsess over.
The Flying Inn - I should also get acquainted with G. K. Chesterton, since he's one of those snarky Catholic authors people always quote.
Oscar Wilde's Short Stories - Once in a while, you need some British witticisms.
Jewish Pirates of the Caribbean - How could I not read this book? The author even lives in Kingston, Jamaica.

Whether I will actually read all of these remains to be seen. I suppose if I really want to be a Renaissance woman, I should pick up some science fiction or math theory. That would definitely be thinking outside my usual box!

Beautiful buildings can help you survive political debates

On Monday night Intern #4 and I went to a roundtable discussion about health care reform. The event was hosted by SLU's social work school and Center for Social Justice, so she knew everyone organizing it. I felt like a little bit of an imposter - as I always do when I'm surrounded by people with MSW degrees - until I remembered that my job at a health care non-profit totally makes me legitimate.

The panel was a combination of community organizers, lobbyists, health care advocates, and one health law professor. I walked away feeling like I had learned a lot about different health reform ideas, but I also felt like I needed to read A LOT more about single-payer vs. an "opt-in" government health plan. In the broad political landscape, the US has to decide which is worse - bigger government or a for-profit health system that leaves many people without care. Within the reform movement, there is also a lot of argument about the best way to change the system.

I'm not a hard-line conservative on this issue, but I decided at the meeting that many Single-payer advocates scare me. They are usually intense and determined, fired up with moral indignation. If you challenge their beliefs, then you are an idiot with no compassion for your fellow human beings. Their logic is often simplistic and questionable, too. "Every other country does this; we should too!" "Picture how much you pay for health care now. Under single payer you pay nothing! Woohoo!" They have no patience for gradual change that would accommodate the many Americans who fear "socialized medicine."

Luckily, the meeting was in a building full of lovely architecture. Il Monastero used to be a Presbyterian church. Now SLU has added several meeting spaces and rents it our for events. The longer I stared at the room in front of me, the more I noticed. Check out the picture - see how each chandelier is unique? And the Romanesque arches within the ceiling beams? And the perfect circles near the walls? The accent wall that's a different color from the rest? The only part I didn't like was the abstract-ish artwork. It was a little unnerving to have a female nude smirking at us in her voluptuous fertility. What exactly was the point of that tryptich, anyway? Intern #4 hates the gaudy carpet. I think that's her social worker frugality talking.

What should we add to the National Mall?

The Smithsonian just released the 6 designs under consideration for the upcoming National Museum of African American History and Culture. All of the designs are decidedly modern, echoing the National Museum of the American Indian and East Wing of the National Gallery. This building, slated to open 2015, will likely be one of the last additions to the monuments and museums that already line the National Mall.
I'm excited to see how things turn out, and I hope the museum committee chooses something that will fit the dignity of the location. The slide show of options reminded me of HGTV's Designer's Challenge. Will the homeowners go with tasteful but boring, or ambitious and expensive? Will museum planners want a design that already dictate museum placement? Some architects proposed gallery names or "Door of No Return" slave ship mock-ups.

Here's my humble opinion on the slide show presentations.

1. Not bad. It wouldn't clash with the surrounding neo-classicism, but it wouldn't quite thrill either.
   
2. Ummm, this just looks silly. Like an alien structure from a children's TV show. The huge glass walls are a neat concept, but they don't mesh well with the hulking metal blob.
   
3. I like this one. The nautilus design makes a good use of space and nature, and reflects the circular Hirshorn gallery. An ascending spiral of galleries to a "Celebration" view of the monuments gives a good sense of journey. My only qualm is that this lends itself to a strict time line interpretation. Visitors might be reluctant to wander as their interests lead them. I'm also imagining a train of school kids running back down to the bottom once they've reached the end of the line.
   
4. Tasteful, with an organic feel, but also a little underwhelming. It's basically a decorated box.
   
5. What. The. Heck. Oh, I see, it's "a building made of natural materials, rising as of out of bedrock and muck," aka when Stonehenge imploded next to the Reflecting Pool. "Along one side runs a wetlands scene, a nod to historic Tiber Creek that ran through part of Washington. Its glass roof features etchings echoing Yoruba ancestral arts, and it also has an outdoor amphitheater facing Constitution Avenue." This creative-sounding description is code for "ego as huge as the stone pylons." If this were built, it would be all about the structure, not the exhibits inside it. Every aspect, from the ceiling beams to the outdoor projection screens, is in-your-face and over-the-top.
   
6. Ahhh, that's better. Dramatic but not like being pelted with boulders. The wood details are stunning, but I'm not sure how all of this would flow together. You can't just slap a ship's hull onto a rectangle. Also, I'm not sure how I feel about the very literal ship's masts at the entrance. African-American history isn't only about the slave trade.
   

Two new church finds

Today I attended mass at St. Anthony, which is next door to the pregnant women's shelter one of the other volunteers works at. St. Louis seems to have a great respect for old buildings, and St. Anthony is one of many neo-Gothic/Romanesque houses of worship that would not have survived Vatican II unscathed in, say, Chicago. In fact, a plaque in the entry praises the firefighters and restoration crew who rescued the church from a 1994 fire.

Whether that restoration is entirely a good thing is another matter, however. There were really lovely elements, like the delicate Life of Christ windows and intricate pastel details on walls. Others were a little distracting, like the almost-gaudy Stations of the Cross. And were those marquee light bulbs framing the side chapels? I hate to call God's house tacky, but there it is. Six confessionals were skillfully carved of dark wood, but also ponderously large. The baldachinno (or chuppah, as Jessica likes to call it) featured so many gold-on white intricacies, all I could think of was a huge frosted wedding cake. Mmmm, icing.

Earlier this week I visited what is nearly St. Anthony's polar opposite. Central Reform Congregation is a relatively young Jewish congregation in an even newer building. Their Central West End location is all modernity, with clean lines, simple metal and wood, and rooms that fan out from the circular lobby like spokes of a wheel. It's easy to tell that social justice is CRC's main focus - the food pantry and clothes closet are right past the front door, and there dozens of meeting rooms buzzing with activity. When I met CRC's Rabbi Susan Talve and complimented her on the building, she replied that the design came to her in a dream. Also, CRC originally didn't want a building, thinking it was a waste of money that could go toward programming instead. When some Section 8 housing nearby got condemned, though, they were happy to buy the property and move out of the Unitarian Church basement nearby. Funny how priorities can change - that reluctant building reflects CRC's priorities more concretely than any "mission statement" plaque.