8:00am sunday
Emmanuel Episcopal Church (The Bake Oven Church)
957 W. North Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15233
north side, allegheny west
This is a Sunday focusing on physical structure. This visit: wholly unique architecture. My 11am today: that and especially the stained glass.
Emmanuel Episcopal was designed by Henry Hobson Richardson, constructed in 1884-86, and declared a National Historic landmark in 2000. Its moniker, "The Bake Oven Church" came about for obvious reasons. I find its stout, sturdy, honest shape to be endearing. Refreshing: no intention to intimidate. The building's original design called for a stone exterior, but proved unaffordable; brick was the answer. The Bake Oven is also famous for the unintended outward slope of its exterior wall, which stopped increasing when the parish house was added to the far side of the church. Ninety percent of the slate covering the sweet, village style, dramatically-sloping roof is original.
Today, it's appropriately sweltering hot. Lately it has been hard to be enthusiastic about adding fabric to my dress. I will, I will make it to September without slowing my pace in response to the temperature.
And apparently Reverend Don Youse shares my sentiment, appearing in shorts. I like him immediately.
Reading: walking on water.
The sermon: The inability to accomplish unless focus is achieved. Times of doubt =floundering. Doubt comes about as a result of fear. Asking for help is a strength, but not encouraged enough in today's society. Applies in the studio? I think I've lectured my college kids on doubt before.
Later I meet Jessie. We talk about gatherings and the importance of artistic community in this field that can be rather isolating. From someone else I catch a 1/2 tale: something about a murder and a mistress in a story involving one of the original donors for the construction of this church.
8am is really early for my brain to even think about drawing, so instead of fitting it in during the service, I stay after, with Pastor Don's blessing. First I am alone in the sanctuary for a bit, then I am accompanied by the pianist, warming up for the 10:30 service. I finish and head out for my next visit, a block away.
9:30am saturday
St George Antiochian Orthodox Cathedral (Syrian)
Arabic Orthros (9:30) and Arabic Liturgy (10:30)
3400 Dawson St, Pittsburgh PA 15213
central oakland
Speaking with Father John Abdalah by phone last week, he says I am more than welcome, but (pause) the service will be in Arabic. Exactly why I chose it. For me, it's not necessarily always about exactly what is spoken. It's about being there. And it's actually easier to experience "presence" when I'm not caught up in semantics.
This has never happened before:
I arrive 10 minutes into the service, and am the sole worshiper amongst the pews. Solitariness does not bother me and I am glad to offer the chanters an audience, but I am definitely conscious of the fact that I cannot take cues from other worshipers, as far as confirmation that I am behaving reverently, sitting and standing when I should, joining prayer, etc. A half-hour later others join. And yet more join for Liturgy at 10:30.
This is at least the third time in gatherings that the icon painter, Andrei Rublev, comes to mind; to avoid tiresome repetition, I hesitate to mention, but here is the strongest yet. It was in March or so that a student turned me on to Tarchovsky's film and the impression is apparently lasting. I don't think I had previously fully appreciated the beauty of Greek and Russion-influenced iconography, but ever since, I am quite taken. (Thank you, A.B.) Thus, this roomful of such is quite a treat. Gorgeous. Red with green and teals. No chroma shyness here. Between icons and painted saints, red and green surfaces are embellished with a patterning of gold, which, from my pew, becomes an intricate network of shining filigree.
And I can't help it that this reminds me exactly of the dress I wore in our Hindu wedding ceremony, 14 years ago.
Will it offend others if I write that, as an outsider, I feel there exists an intersection between the observance (physically, visually, ritually) of Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism?
Chanting, standing, bowing, taking steps as specifically dictated, rituals of touching (or not touching) objects, gesturing on one's own body, turning to face this direction or that, flowing robes, praying prostrate, kissing items to express reverence, flames wafted, peacocks, the taking in of the spirit through food, drinking wine, marking time with sun down and sun rise.
Today I do not take communion, presuming it is not offered in open form. After the service, Father John Abdalah approaches me, wants to answer any questions, and hands me a large piece of communion bread.
After-note~
I needed to clear this for myself, the relationship of Orthodoxy to Roman Catholicism:
For more than 1000 years the Orthodox Church and Roman Catholic Church were one church. In 1054, they split. Orthodox Christianity (with a capital "O"; small "o" is different, less specific), or a.k.a. Eastern Orthodoxy claims origins in Eastern Europe and the eastern Mediterranean. Generally these churches are grouped into 3 categories:
1) Orthodox Churches of the Middle East: including this church, Syrian (Antiochian).
2) Orthodox Churches of Central and Eastern Europe: including Greek, my last (68th) visit. (These more closely follow Byzantine traditions... Byzantine is included as a part of the first group. To me this emphasized interconnectedness over separation. In the same way that no part of art history is fully separated from the rest.)
3) the Orthodox Diaspora: those organized outside traditional Orthodox countries.
6:30pm thursday
Saint Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral
Great Paráklesis (Eastern Orthodoxy)
419 S. Dithridge St, Pittsburgh PA 15213
north oakland
So much to learn.
I am here for the Services of the Great Supplicatory Canons to the Most Holy Theotokos, otherwise known as the Great Paráklesis. The Most Holy Theotokos is also known as the Mother of God, or Mary. Just in case any of my readers are as new to this as I am, here's some background info, below...
Observation of Dormition Fast: Aug 1-14. During which the Great and Small Parárakelses is chanted on alternate evenings. If Aug 1st falls on a weekday, the cycle begins with the Small Paráklesis. If not, the Great is first. Saturday evenings and on the night of the Transfiguration (August 5th), Paráklesis is omitted. On Sundays the Great is always chanted, except on Aug 5th. Many times rules frustrate me a bit. But these I find rather beautiful.
Transfiguration: considered a miracle. Happens when Jesus, Elijah and Moses gather on Mt Tabor. The Holy Spirit arrives in the form of a cloud. The figure of Jesus is illuminated. Did I completely forget this from my Sunday school years? Regardless, Father Demetrios Gardikes explains to me so patiently.
Dormition of Theotokos: the reason for this observance and of this Fast and Feast. Dormition refers to Mary's great falling asleep (her passing on), observed on Aug 15th. In Orthodoxy and Catholicism, the death is referred to as a "sleep."
In addition to Islam, how many other beliefs call for days of fasting in August?
And what I remember:
We stand throughout the service.
13 of us, including the Priest.
3 worshipers choose to pray prostrate, contacting the ground,
at the back of the sanctuary, in the aisles.
16 pages to turn.
3 voices chanting. At times it sounds as if there are 20.
1 Priest kisses the Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos.
A million times the bells of swinging incense.
So there is kissing in Christian ceremony; I stand corrected. (see 2nd visit, 3rd paragraph)
Father Gardikes stops to speak to me after the service. My impression of him is that of extreme gentleness. He exudes calm. He points out the peacocks adorning the alter's center "Holy Door," through with only Priests and Deacons are permitted to pass, those who carry the Eucharist. Peacocks: the oldest, earliest-mentioned, symbolic animal of Christianity, he explains. Yearly feather molting and regrowth symbolizing re-birth, resurrection. Also a prominent symbol in Hinduism, with different meaning. I notice peacocks during my next visit, the 69th (Antiochian Orthodox) also on the Holy Door, and again at the 70th (Episcopal) this time in stained glass over the balcony at the back of the sanctuary.
Left and right alter doors, "Deacons Doors" (also used by alter boys or anyone with a specific reason to enter the alter—but a specific reason is required) display iconography of Archangel Michael and Archangel Gabriel. I ask for the story of Archangel Michael. Request fulfilled, along with a farewell of peaceful wishes. For several visits after this, my obsession with wings is re-awakened.
10:30am sunday
Saint Juan Diego Parish, at St. Mary Church
Penn & Garner Streets, Sharpsburg, PA 15215
sharpsburg
Last week, while driving home from an errand, I turn off the main road for a moment of church chasing. This building dominates, hovers over the homes that surround it in a way that refuses to let me simply drive by without adding it to my list. I've been compelled to stop like this before, but this time it's a little different: I immediately feel that I HAVE to visit this church this weekend. I decide to (know that I need to) come here straight after Oakmont Presby, visiting both churches on the same Sunday. I question this, figuring it would have nothing to do with my theme of German travels. I am wrong.
My mother's side of the family claims some German heritage, some Irish, and my father's some Irish and English. And me? All I know for sure is that I have a sixth sense. I joke about this, but it's also very real. See, I am sure that I was drawn off the main road, drawn to stop at this building, compelled to make this my 67th visit, because—as I found out during internet research the night before my visit—it fits exactly into my theme. This parish began in 1845 as a combined German Catholic and Irish Catholic congregation ...until disputes arose between the two ethnic groups. The Irish then went elsewhere, and the Germans built their own church and got their own German-speaking Redemptorist priests.
Visually, this church is very special. There's a twelve-page pamphlet at the entrance on its design and artwork. Worth the trip.
What do I remember?
Emails from Father Frank Almade: I will be witnessing his last delivered service there. An invitation to read his blog. An invitation to stop by the sacristy before the service, to say hello to him.
In the sacristy, while waiting to meet Father Almade: A conversation with a church member. She has belonged to this church ever since she was born and her family has belonged for generations before that. She now lives on the hill behind the church in the home where her father grew up with his 7 siblings. (Yes, of German heritage.) She says to me that one thing you will notice about Pittsburgh is that people don't really leave their neighborhoods. I've heard of this phenomenon, this fear of bridges. I tell her that I suppose it has to do with the fact that everyone can simply find what they need in their immediate surroundings. She says, "No. It really has more to do with family. The family is usually right there, has been forever and so no one leaves. Except that I'm getting better, lately. My daughter moved to the South Side, and I go there to see her. I'm getting better about it."
And in the sanctuary, this is what I remember:
The ornate has hardly ever felt so solid.
Attached to the sanctuary, through an archway: the sweetest little chapel, just past the last pew. (Walk in the main entrance and turn left.) A tiny painted, weathered, wooden carved lamb in its Gothic cubby. Relics here, too. (Would I have recognized them as such, had I not been to St Anthony's?) And the most beautiful votive candles I've ever seen.
At the end of the service, Father Almade receives (in his words) "an Irish farewell blessing delivered by a Polish woman amongst an originally-German(/Irish) parish." He is leaving for his new parish, waiting for him in New Castle, PA.
And me? I leave today's visits, both in the near suburbs, drive over a bridge and re-enter Pittsburgh.
8:15am sunday
Oakmont Presbyterian Church
415 Pennsylvania Ave, Oakmont PA 15139
oakmont
As mentioned in my last post, in order to convince myself that these first couple of weeks back in Pittsburgh are simply an extension of my travels in Germany and the Czech Republic, I am choosing to visit worship-places with elements that carry over from my trip.
There's a backstory to this one. In fall of 2010, shortly after beginning gatherings I received a text from a friend, Dave English. His family owned a funeral home in the Pittsburgh area, so he's well-versed in religious culture here. He sent a short list of visit-suggestions, including this comment: "Oakmont Presby has a cool bell tower." The sentence holds significance to me for several reasons. 1) I have an unfinished body of artwork concerning a story about a bell-ringer. 2) E.A. Poe's poem The Bells —sharing a fascination with the range of the historic purposes of bells and their range of sonic expression. In additional to this, I'm simply enchanted by church bells' massive physicality and that of the gears and ropes that make them move; I'm enthralled by bell-ringers, and also the bellmakers in Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev.
In Prague, my husband and I climbed to the top of St. Vitus Cathedral's bell tower. The 462 year-old spiraling stone staircase, the bells, the gears, the ropes, a window-peek into the ringer's quarters (old wooden table, chair, stacks of books) and finally the view from the top—an experience I won't forget. 96.65 meters, or 317 feet, or more than one football-field-length in height.
This morning I wondered if I could obtain permission to climb Oakmont Presbyterian Church's bell tower. I remember as a child, climbing the stairs of the tower at the church my family belonged to. I remember ringing the bell, my feet lifting from the ground on the up-swings. No such experience today in Oakmont. The only access was through a ceiling panel in the church's entryway. A far-fetched fantasy.
I think gatherings is a little far-fetched for Oakmont, too. Following the service, I introduce myself to the associate pastor. I could tell from his reaction that he was a little uncertain of me. Unexpected ideas can be a little frightening to some, I guess. Sometimes my ideas scare me, too. That's when I know they're worth doing.
1:00pm friday
St. Anthony's Chapel
(houses over 4200 relics)
1704 Harpster St, Pittsburgh PA 15212troy hill
Over 5000 relics here. Saints' bones, skulls, teeth, hair, threads from garments, vials of blood. Said to be the largest collection outside the Vatican. The photo above fails to tell the story—apologies: photography of the interior is forbidden. This you must see for yourself.
Having returned from seven weeks in Germany (including a few days in Prague) I have decided to ease myself back into life here by intentionally seeking out, in these next few visits, certain elements that carry-over from my travels in Germany. To make life here feel like an extension of German travels, because I'm already nostalgic.
When I travel, I skip a lot of things listed in the guide books. I'm more interested in learning about what it's like to live in places other than my home. I love fumbling through language at the grocery, becoming addicted to müsli-yoghurt breakfasts and taking trains into neighborhoods that are labelled as industrial or recovering. But in the end, I am no doubt, a tourist. And so for this first visit back, a tourist I will be.
Though the website said otherwise, St. Anthony's secretary, Becky, was not sure there would be a tour-guide available at the time of my visit. If not, there was always the CD tour. I decide to take my chances. I arrive and look for head-docent Carole. I look for the the tour-CD. I find no one around to ask. I end up just staring at the huge victorian wooden and glass cases containing 5000+ relics. That's when Betty finds me. "Would you like a tour? Would you like me to point out some of the relics and talk about them?" I learn that technically, she has retired from this, her former duty as tour guide and now-a-days normally serves as chapel attendant, simply watching-over the space during visiting hours. But I guess she notices my interest and can not help herself. Luck is with me again.
BTW, from St. Anthony's website:Relic Classifications
• 1st Class - Are typically remains from the Passion of our Lord, Jesus Christ or a bodily remain of a Saint
• 2nd Class - Any item or possession of a Saint (i.e. Prayer Book, Rosary Beads, Vestments...)
• 3rd Class - Typically a piece of cloth that comes in contact with a 1st or 2nd class relic
Betty is pretty amazing. She implies that she remembers WWII. Long ago, she and one other woman catalogued the relics at St. Anthony's—all of them. Before this, it was thought that the church owned five pieces of the True Cross. When she was done, the number was corrected to fourteen. A piece of the table from the Last Supper. A thread from Mary's veil. A lock of her hair. The larger relics are wrapped in translucent silk or linen and displayed in a reliquary (such as a box with a glass window); the smaller ones are reliquaried in tiny, gorgeous ornately-guilded frames. (art: an object—or an act or event—that holds value beyond the elements of it's physical existence.) The front surface of many frames are round with watch-glass, some tied at the top with guilded bows. Many of the relics themselves are the size of the head of a pin, or the tooth of a zipper. In these cases, the item's label—the tiny strip of yellowed paper with a one-line typewritten description—dwarfs the object itself. But you will also find encased skulls and the complete skeleton of St Demetrius (disassembled, the compact bundle gingerly wrapped in silk, encased in a box).
At the bottom of several of the cabinets are sculptures of life-size figures of Saints carved from wood, in reclining poses. Look closely and you will see death-wounds on their necks and elsewhere. "Because many of these saints died by the sword," Betty explains. "You know, back in the times when people were killed for being Christians." Rather large vials of the Saints' blood accompany the figures.
"Now let me ask you," Betty says, "When you walked in here, did you get chills? Well, after all the afternoons I've spent here, I still do. Chills every time." I mean this in the most positive and respectful manner (it's the dark side of religion that I always find most interesting): This tour gives me new understanding of the relationship between Christianity and all things Gothic.
An aside—
Speaking of the intersection of Art, Religion and the Gothic, I was able to see this in Berlin. In person, it is absolutely breathtaking.
Back to relics... FAQs
• Relic authenticity? Known because each item was wrapped and/or encased by a bishop, witnessed by two other bishops, and sealed with wax imprinted with the bishop's signet ring.
• How did they end up here? Canon law forbids the sale of holy relics. This collection is credited to the founder of the church, Father Suitbert G. Mollinger. He came from a wealthy Belgian family and gained a reputation for offering monetary support to Catholic churches in need—building maintenance and such. In return, he might accept a thank-you in the form of a relic or two. Or at least that's how Betty explains it.
• Why relics? "The veneration of relics strongly influenced piety in general from the 4th and 5th centuries onward, and it also helped greatly to promote pilgrimages. Relics attracted large bodies of pilgrims in the middle ages. ...They made an impact too, on art (reliquaries from the days of Charlemagne, Romanesque and Gothic shrines, relic tablets, relic ostensories from the 13th cent)." ~The encyclopedia of Christianity, Volume 4, Erwin Fahlbusch, Geoffrey William Bromiley.
A few more unexpected, German-travel connections by consequence: Some of the relics are boxed with wood from the Black Forest. (I overnighted there last month.) St. Anthony's also houses wooden life-size figurative sculptures comprising narrative scenes from the fourteen Stations of the Cross. These carvings were created in Munich, where my feet last touched German soil. Sigh. Am I easing myself into my normal life, or enabling denial? Does the fact that I haven't fully unpacked affect your answer?
Back from Germany.Spent over a month at an artist residency in Schwandorf, which is located just north of Regensburg in Bavaria. Also serving residence with me were a composer, a writer and another visual artist. All amazing—their company is certainly missed. We lived in individual apartments within ein Künstlerhaus and worked all day long in our individual studios on our individual projects. My studio was near a wooded area, guarded by a grand iron gate. There I completed 22 unfinished drawings and inked 53. Additionally, I edited 2 video pieces. All for this project.We also made scrumptious meals, sometimes for each other. When I ran out of groceries, I rode a little borrowed German bike along a path next to a tiny flowing river all the way to the farmer's market in the adjoining village.Following, I traveled with my husband: the Black Forest, Regensburg, Berlin, Hamburg, Prague and Munich.And I visited worship places: two Catholic Masses in Schwandorf/Fronberg, one Protestant service in Schwandorf, and one Jewish service in Regensburg. I have a few ideas for a project I would like to do there soon, before I forget the little bit of German that I know, and after I can perhaps learn little more.
