Holy Rosary Church, Jersey City, NJ

August 24, 2013

Holy Rosary Church

344 Sixth Avenue

Jersey City, NJ 07302

www.holyrosarychurch.com

This church is hitting on all cylinders.  Most cylinders, anyway.  It’s a good sized church, with bright, if not a little sissy, colors.  The priest, Fr. Jerzy Zasłona, is energetic and cheery, and he is a good speaker, which is a real feather in his cap.  During his homily, he took the rarely-used approach – in fact I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before – of asking the congregation questions that he actually wanted answers to.  It was a little awkward, because everyone was acting like he was asking a rhetorical question, so no one responded.  For example, he asked “who here takes the PATH train to Manhattan?”  I thought he would move on from the question, assured his point had been made that he was going to talk about taking the PATH train, but he pressed on: “Anyone?  Has anyone taken the PATH train to Manhattan?”  Of course we have, bro.  We all have.  He asked four or five questions like this, and it was a little awkward each time.  Truth be told, though, I like the idea of an interactive homily.  Sometimes I just want to call a priest out on what they're talking about.

I thought the Gospel reading was weird.  It was about Jesus saying how narrow the doors to heaven are, and that a lot of you who think you’re getting in maybe aren’t actually going to get in.  And Fr. Zasłona was taking it pretty literally, saying yeah, we’ve got to be all in on following God’s teachings to get through those pearly gates.  Like we're putting all our chips in the center of the table.  We're leaving everything out on the field because it's the World Series.  That kind of "all in."  But I was thinking, “why do the doors to heaven have to be narrow?”  If we’re all good people, even if we’re sinners and don’t do everything we ought to do all the time, why wouldn't God let us in?  But whatever.  This is all unknowable.

The icing on the cake for this church was two-fold.  First, the ministry of music brought down the house with a raging City of God to close the mass (though it's much better with a piano than an organ).  Second, the church has savage statue of St. Michael.  I went and took a picture of it after mass was over, and there was a sweet old lady just hanging in the pews after mass who saw me.  After I snapped the photo she cheerily asked, “you like St. Michael?”  “Yeah, that’s my name, Michael,” I said with a smile.  How awesome are those sweet little old ladies who just know all their saints and stuff?

Church of St. Micheal, New York, NY

August 3, 2013

Church of St. Michael

424 West 34th Street

New York, NY 10001

www.stmichaelnyc.com

I had big expectations for this church.  St. Michael is my namesake and, not surprisingly, a total savage.  He’s an archangel, Prince of the Seraphim, Protector of the Church, he’s in charge of saving souls on Judgment Day, and “Michael” is the battle cry of the angels when they force Satan out of heaven.  Which such high expectations, I have to admit I was a kind of disappointed when I found that the church isn’t particularly eye-catching.  In fact, it’s pretty drab and depressing.  Also, as soon as I entered the church, the greeter promptly ushered me to the tiny chapel in the back where the mass was being held because there evidently are not enough churchgoing Catholics in Midtown Manhattan to hold a legitimate mass.  How embarrassing is that as Catholics, by the way?  Here we have this huge church with vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, statues of saints and angels all over the place, rows and rows of pews, and we’re cramping a couple dozen people like sardines in this tiny chapel in the back just so we can avoid how few of us there are anymore.  Man, we have got to get people to come back to the Church.

The mass itself was all right.  It wasn’t a terribly comfortable mass to sit through, physically speaking, but the two old-timers I was sitting between were nice.  Both gave real solid handshakes with friendly smiles at peace time.  In fact, it was a solid peace time all around.  That’s one of the benefits of having small, intimate masses.  You feel a lot closer to everyone.  Like you’re in the foxhole together.

The priest had what I am guessing is an African accent.  I may be wrong on that, though, because there is a guy in the copy room at work who I swore had an African accent, and it turns out he is from France.  Frankly, I’m still not sure I buy it, because unless he is from some Podunk town in France with weird accents, he does not sound French at all.  And he is dark as the night.  Amistad all day long.  Anyway, the priest gave what sounded like a solid, heartfelt, thoughtful, and well-delivered homily.  And if not for that African accent, I probably could have understood it.

Bottom line, not a real solid outing for St. Michael’s.  I’ll have to find another St. Michael’s more befitting of the name.

I went to the 5:00 p.m. mass on a Saturday evening.

Holy Name Cathedral, Chicago, IL

July 21, 2013

Holy Name Cathedral

730 North Wabash Avenue

Chicago, IL 60611

(312) 787-8040

www.holynamecathedral.org

I took a trip to Chicago with a few good friends to see a few Phish concerts out at Northerly Island and while in town, I took the opportunity to attend mass there.  I love Chicago.  I haven’t been to a lot of places, but of those I have been to, Chicago has to be my favorite second only to Lincroft, NJ, my hometown and an earthly slice of heaven.  And I’ll tell you what, this Holy Name Cathedral is a great place to go to mass.  A young and charismatic priest gave a solid homily to a packed house.  The place is beautiful too, with a unique arched ceiling with these wooden, almost lattice-like, designs.  Well, it is unique in that I don’t recall seeing anything like it, but for all I know, churches like that are a dime a dozen beyond my little world.

I have to admit that I was not in a real good physical state during this Sunday morning mass.  I had just been through the ringer the last two days and nights, and most of my prayers were that there was no stench of alcohol coming off me suffocating my neighbors.  I don’t think there was, but I hope they were able to forgive me if there was.

The priest was Fr. Ramil E. Fajardo.  The sermon started off with an anecdote about him visiting his parents’ home, which I actually didn’t think was really analogous to the point he was trying to make with the sermon, but it grabbed your attention just the same.  The sermon was about hospitality, which really hit home with me because I am the least hospitable person I know.  And what that comes down to, I think, is that I’m selfish.  Fr. Fajardo had a relatable message about opening your heart to others, which I have been trying to do.  Slowly, I feel the hardness softening, but “slowly” no doubt is the word to use there.  Anyhow, considering the amount of blood in my eyes on this particular Sunday morning, this was a great mass experience.  Holy Name is a great church with a great community.

I went to the 11 a.m. mass on a Sunday.

Chruch of St. John the Baptist, New York, NY

July 14, 2013

Church of St. John the Baptist

210 West 31st Street

New York, NY 10001

(212) 564-9070

www.padrepioshrine.com

This post comes from an email I happen to write to my friends about my trip to Church of St. John the Baptist the day after I went.  Fair warning, this is a little rough around the edges.

* * *

I used to hate going to church because it's an hour out of my Sunday during which I could be doing basically anything else.  But I kind of like going now.  Now I think of it as an hour out of my week that is just complete peace.  I've been going to different churches too, which makes it interesting.  You hear different priests do their homilies, and some are just train wrecks, some are talking straight out of their asses, and some are pretty good.  Anyhow, I went to a church in the city last week and the gospel reading was the Good Samaritan story.  If I'm the priest, I'm licking my chops over this sermon.  This is one I can really sink my teeth into.  “Hot lunch,” I’m thinking.  And there I am in the congregation, and I'm saying, “Nice, this is going to be a tasty sermon, let's see what this guy has got.”  So when the time for the homily comes, you can imagine my disappointment when a guest nun from the missions gets up to speak about what she's doing and asking for our money.  Good for her and all the hospitals and good-doing she's doing in the toughest spots in the world (actually embodying the Good Samaritan quite well), but fuck if I wasn't pissed I didn't get my Good Samaritan homily.

* * *

That email review out of the way, I have to say I liked the interior of this church.  It was big, bright and uplifting.  I’ll have to go back for some pictures.

For the record, the nun was from The Society for the Propogation of the Faith, Archdiocese of New York, 10011 First Avenue, New York, NY 10022.  I didn’t skimp on the donation just because she Bogarted the Good Samaritan story, but I will say I’ve definitely heard more inspiring mission speakers.

I went to the 5:15 p.m. mass on a Sunday.

Our Lady of Czestochowa, Jersey City, NJ

July 7, 2013

Our Lady of Czestochowa

120 Sussex Street

Jersey City, NJ 07302

(201) 434-0798

www.olcjc.org

Our Lady of Częstochowa, or OLC, is located in the Paulus Hook section of Jersey City.  Częstochowa is a town in Poland where there is a famous icon of Mary called the Black Madonna of Częstochowa.  Mary has a couple of scars on her face in the portrait, and there is a legend that the scars were caused by Hussite invaders of the Jasna Gora Monastery in Częstochowa, where the Black Madonna is.  As the legend goes, the Hussites plundered the monastery in 1430, but when trying to escape with the Black Madonna in tow, their horses wouldn't budge.  So one of the Hussites tossed the icon and struck it with his sword twice.  But before he could inflict a third strike, he fell to the ground, writhing in agony, and ultimately died.  The Black Madonna is evidently a big draw for Polish Catholics.

Given its name, there is obviously some Polish history to this church in Jersey City, and the pastor, Fr. Tom Ciba, comes from a Polish family.  That said, it seems the church’s Polish identity has mostly gone the way of the Dodo.

Fr. Ciba’s homily was not for me.  It was a classic “I’m talking about heaven and what goes on there even though I have no idea what goes on in heaven” homily.  I'm not a real fan of these kinds of homilies - I prefer when priests just stick to positive messages.  I pretty much tuned out when Ciba said it was our duty to build the Kingdom of God here on earth.  I snapped back into it when it ended, not because there was some great insightful message, but because it was already over.  It was like a two minute homily.  This isn’t Christmas mass and we’re not a bunch of mopes who can’t pay attention for more than thirty seconds at a time.  We’re knee deep in Ordinary Time, homes.  Let’s put some thought and effort into this.

Anyhow, I went to the 10 a.m. mass on a Sunday, and it was notable for two reasons.  First, this is apparently the weekly children’s mass.  In what I thought was a strange (but brilliant) move, the church sends kids aged 2-5 out with a parent about 5 minutes after the mass starts.  I don’t know where they go, but wherever it is, there are apparently Bible-themed coloring books there.  Iinfants and toddlers stick in Church the whole mass.

The second notable aspect of this mass is that they don’t have ushers bring the offering baskets come time for the collection.  Instead, everyone walks up to the front of the church like on a Communion line.  It’s very public and a little screwy if you ask me because (a) the people who don’t give up must feel like remarkable assholes, and (b) I thought giving was supposed to be anonymous.  I didn't like it because I feel like the church was trying to play some sick shaming game into giving them money.  Although after that two-bit homily, Ciba is lucky he’s getting anything at all, so maybe this shame game is how he makes his bones.  Probably not, but still, I didn't like this collection method.