An Historic Painting by Guido Reni Enshrined in Covington Cathedral

Thanks to our good friend Fr Jordan Hainsey of the diocese of Covington, Kentucky, for sharing with us this item about a painting recently put on display in Covington Cathedral.

A painting of St. Philip Neri was enshrined at St. Mary’s Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption in Covington, Kentucky, in late July. Visually framed by the vaults and pillars of a side aisle, it hangs above the west portal door at the cathedral’s narthex. While it is new to the Cathedral, its history stretches back to one of Rome’s greatest painters and the earliest days of the German presence in Covington.

The Covington copy of Guido Reni’s St Philip Neri

The painting was brought from Rome to the United States in 1839 by Fr. Ferdinand Kühr, the first pastor of Mother of God Church in Covington. Fr. Kühr was born in Eslohe, Prussia on August 25, 1806. An early history by Mother of God Church relates: Having lost his parents at an early age, the boy was forced to work in the fields for a living. A priest uncle, noticing his inclination toward the ecclesiastical state, sent him to the Gymnasium of Paderborn. After two years, the benefactor died, and the boy was again left destitute. Ferdinand was determined to become a priest – money or no money. Hearing that poor boys might be educated for the missions gratuitously at the college of Propaganda Fide, he set out on foot for Rome with one companion. By the time they had reached the Alps, their little money was gone, and they accepted charity at Saint Gotthard, where they were advised to turn back to Germany. The two youths, however, proceeded to Rome; and according to Fr. Kühr’s own description, arrived, footsore, hungry, and in tatters. On the outskirts of the Eternal City, they knelt to beg God’s blessing on their future and trudged on to the first church in sight. Here they fell asleep, only to be awakened by a confused lay brother, who, not being able to understand them, conducted the two “urchins” to a German priest. They were presented to the Propaganda by their newly-found friend and were enrolled at the College.

Fr Ferdinand Kühr

The college Kühr found himself in was the Pontifical Urban College for the Propagation of the Faith. Founded in 1627, this institution prepared young men for holy orders and missionary work in their homelands. Italians were not admitted; instead, it welcomed students—like Kühr—from the Balkans, Northern Europe, and the Middle East. At the time of Kühr’s arrival, Karl-August Graf von Reisach, one of the most influential churchmen of the 19th century, was rector. A native Bavarian, Reisach enjoyed a close friendship with several popes and was a well-respective churchman known for his cultured diplomacy. Reisach would eventually be named Bishop of Eichstätt, later Archbishop of Munich-Freising, and, eventually, a Cardinal. Decades later, when Pius IX began preparations for Vatican Council I, he called on Reisach to begin preparations and went on to name him council president.

The Painting Travels From Rome to America

Divine providence not only carried the poor boy from Prussia across the Alps and brought him to ordination day, but it gave him an education and formation by Reisach, who ordained him on the feast of St Lawrence, August 10, 1836, in Rome by Reisach. The Holy Spirit and the imposition of Reisach’s hands not only conferred Holy Orders upon him, but seemingly passed on a missionary zeal that would carry Kühr to the shores of America.

Cardinal Reisach

Following ordination, Kühr became professor of Theology at the Propagation of the Faith from 1836-39. According to The Centenary of Catholicity in Kentucky, he was said to be an “energetic and faithful priest highly esteemed to the clergy to whom he was known. He was a holy man unpretending in his ways, and deeply pious.” Gaining the affection of many, sometime during these three years the Cardinal Archbishop of Cologne (likely Clemens August Droste zu Vischering) gifted Kühr a painting of St. Philip Neri purported to be one of six created by the Baroque Master, Guido Reni. Where he got it and how it was chosen to give to Kühr is unknown.

Almost immediately though, Kühr felt an interior voice say, “Go to the new world and build a church in honor of the Mother of God!” As the story goes, when he told the cardinal friend that he would take his treasured painting with him to America, his eminence replied: “You dare not; the Pecci Law is written forbidding masterpieces to be taken from Rome.” What exactly the cardinal meant by the Pecci law is unclear, as no historical record of such law exists as we know it. However, beginning during the reign of Pius VI in the 18th century, strict regulations about exporting artworks from the Pontifical States were enforced. Such regulations would have later been incorporated bodily into the legal code of the Kingdom of Italy, particularly after the so-called Unification. Whatever the case, Kühr found a loophole. As tradition relates, “Knowing that the law is not in force until duly promulgated, Fr. Kühr left Rome quietly at night, and took his Saint Philip Neri with him.”

The Painting Arrives in Covington and Mother of God Parish is Established

Covington’s “St. Mary’s Mission,” served a congregation of both English-speaking and German-speaking Catholics, most of them immigrants, in the early 1830s. For the first three years of its existence, it had no resident priest. “One of the Reverend clergy of the Cathedral of Cincinnati,” noted the Catholic Telegraph, “celebrated ‘Holy Mass’ on two Sundays (second and fourth) of every month.” The “Reverend clergy” mentioned in the article was Fr Stephen Montgomery.

Soon though, Fr. Kühr was drawn to this growing congregation. In the spring of 1839, he arrived with the painting in the United States and began ministry. Beginning in Cincinnati, he eventually traveled to Pennsylvania, before offering his service to Bishop Flaget for ministry to the growing German faithful who had settled in the city of Covington. By the time he arrived, the number of German-speaking families at St. Mary’s had increased to nearly 40, which warranted the creation of a new parish church. With the Bishop’s permission, a new congregation was organized under Kühr, who at first rented a hall in the Old National Hotel Building on Scott Street in which to have Mass. Then in the spring of 1841, he bought a piece of property a block from St. Mary’s on Sixth Street upon which the new German church was erected. Contractors, builders, and labors were generous, donating both their time and materials. The church was under roof by August, and dedicated shortly thereafter, on October 10, 1842 as Mutter Gottes Gemeinde (Mother of God Parish).

While it seems likely the Kühr’s painting of St. Philip Neri would have been enshrined in the church, no photographs exist to prove this; where it hung in these early years is a mystery. What is clear though is that Kühr had kept his promise to “go to the new world and build a church in honor of the Mother of God!”

What makes the story of the painting’s arrival in America even more intriguing though is its purported artist. Oral and written provenance by the Sisters of Charity in Cincinnati, relate that the painting is one of six painted by the very hand of the Baroque master, Guido Reni.

Guido Reni, The Painting’s Artist

Reni was the most celebrated painter of seventeenth-century Italy. He was famous for the elegance of his compositions and the beauty and grace of his upturned heads and entrancing eyes; these were his religious zeitgeist. In 1608, Pope Paul V made him his court painter. Already popular, Reni could now barely keep up with commissions; the powerful Borghese dynasty, centered around Pope Paul V, and several other patrons, demanded a stream of new works from the star painter.

Self-portrait of Guido Reni, ca. 1602

To keep up, the artist ran a huge studio in Bologna, employing at one time up to 80 assistants; this studio even became an attraction for visitors to the city. A constant stream of art dealers, cardinals, and ambassadors dropped by. Whether altarpieces or devotional pictures, mythological scenes or portraits, Reni’s art remained highly sought after, and his studio assistants produced countless copies of his most popular paintings. For example, more than 50 workshop copies of the “Penitent Magdalene” are known today. But Reni himself is said to have held the firm opinion that it didn’t matter who executed the paintings or, indeed, how many times they were repeated. What counted was the brainchild behind them. In that vein, every workshop copy was an original Reni.

St Mary Magdalene, by Guido Reni, 1633

After Reni’s appointment in 1608 to the Papal Court, the Oratorians of Santa Maria in Vallicella (Chiesa Nuova) commissioned the famed artist to create a new painting of St. Philip Neri to hang in the chapel which housed the saint’s moral remains beneath the altar. The painting was slated to be the centerpiece of the 1615 beatification ceremonies.

Known as the third Apostle of Rome, St. Philip Neri was born on July 22, 1515. He lived during the Renaissance—a period of resurgence in learning, affecting philosophical thought, science, and art. At a time when the Catholic Church was embattled in the Reformation, Neri achieved a spiritual renewal in the Church’s capital city of Rome. He was gentle, kind, and had a warm personality, as well as a wonderful sense of humor. His two favorite books were the Bible and a joke book. He used charm and humor to teach others about Jesus and he shared joy and kindness with the poor. By the time he died in 1595, Neri’s popularity had skyrocketed; now part of Heaven’s cloud of witnesses, he was on par with Rome’s greatest patrons, Sts. Peter and Paul. The new painting then would become the focal point of devotion for Rome’s newest saint.

The chapel of St Philip Neri in the Roman Oratory church.

In 1614, Reni completed the commissioned painting of St. Philip Neri to the delight of the Oratorians and the lay faithful. Executed in his typical style, it depicts Neri’s ecstatic encounter with the Madonna and Christ Child. Employing those hallmark eyes, Reni has depicted Neri kneeling, with his hands outstretched in prayer, alluding to the mystical experience which St Philip had in the Catacombs of St. Sebastian. In that vision, a fire from the Holy Spirit settled in his chest and expanded his heart to the point that ribs were broken—a physical reality corroborated by doctors upon examination after his death. He is dressed in a rich red brocade “Neri Chasuble”— a vestment whose distinct, ample cut was popularized and codified at the Council of Trent and is now synonymous with Neri himself. The pairing of an ecstatic moment and the use of Mass vestments (which allude to Eucharist itself) create a picture of anamnesis—a Jewish and Christian concept that says what we are doing and experiencing is not simply a passive process, but one by which one can actually enter into now. Reni wanted to create a work that would draw the viewer into a transcendent encounter with the Divine who is ever-present. His success is undeniable.

Attribution and Provenance of Covington’s Painting

The fact that Reni’s studio was known to have created as many as 50 copies of a work lends credibility to the provenance of Covington’s St. Philip Neri painting as originating from it. It is also likely that the 19th century clergy and connoisseurs took to heart Reni’s own view that since he was the brainchild, every copy from his workshop was a true original. With that in mind, it is absolutely plausible that Covington’s painting is one of six executed in Reni’s workshop. The canvas was relined at some point with the surface showing considerable areas of inpainting and infilling. Varnish over time has yellowed, darkening the surface. While the coloration may differ from the original in Rome, and the hand of the painter or painters appears to be less accomplished than that of the master, it still lives and breathes, encompassing the same forms, style, execution, and emotion one can expect from a work by Reni’s very hand.

A chalk sketch of the St Philip painting, used by Reni’s workshop in the production of copies.

The church that Kühr built lasted through the late 1860s until overcrowding became a problem. The original structure was demolished, and ground was immediately broken for a newly planned Italian Renaissance Revival structure. The cornerstone was set on July 3, 1870 and the building dedicated on September 10, 1871. Unfortunately, Fr Kühr did not live to see its completion, having died on November 29, 1870 after an injury suffered from a shying horse. Following his death, at his month’s mind Mass (30 days after) his personal effects were sold at auction, the Neri painting among them. It was bought by a Fr. Hundt of Aurora, Indiana, and later sold in 1883 to Fr. Thomas S. Byrne (then Chaplain to the Sisters of Charity, and later Bishop of Nashville), who in turn gifted it to Mother Regina Mattingly for the sisters’ art gallery.

The Cathedral Basilica — A New Home for St. Philip Neri

The painting became the centerpiece of the Bishop Byrne Art Collection at the Sisters of Charity Motherhouse from 1883 until May 5, 2022, when much of their collection was de-accessed and sent to auction. It was at that time that Bishop Roger Foys of Covington was apprised of its existence. Considering the painting’s historical significance for the diocese, Bishop Foys obtained the painting at auction and donated it to his cathedral as a votive offering to Our Lady and gift to the people of Covington. Hung near the confessional, the life size 65.5 x 43 inch oil on canvas work has become a focal point of devotion for faithful and visitors to the Cathedral Basilica.

It is unclear if Bishop Maes or the cathedral architects ever planned artwork for the space where the painting now lives, but it now feels like it has always been there, gives testimony to the ancient and sacred idea that a cathedral is never finished, and that each generation is called to leave it better and more beautiful than they found it.

Art history and criticism will always fall short in grasping or dissecting the true meaning of this painting without the lens of faith. It is only with faith that the painting receives a pulse and becomes what the iconographers call “a window into Heaven”—meaning, what we are viewing is also viewing us. Perhaps that’s why Kühr ushered it so quickly and secretly out of Rome. For him, it was not a masterpiece for a gallery wall or palace adornment, but a sacred work that would console the German faithful in the new and unfamiliar land of America, for all good art heals and consoles.

When the painting left Covington in 1870 at Kühr’s death, its story was eclipsed. Now, 153 years later, the painting, its story, and the memory of the faithful missionary who carried it here come back to life. It remains for us to consider what it says to us, and what we will carry away from it.

Beautiful Sacred Art at Ss Gregory and Augustine Parish Church in Oxford, England

What a small parish can achieve with good taste and the will to have a beautiful church, even with limited means.

Here are some photographs from my recent visit to the little parish church of Ss Gregory and Augustine in Oxford, England. The art and furnishings have been carefully chosen to match the simple but elegant early 20th-century architectural design. (The parish was founded in 1912). It is has an arts-and-crafts feel to it, and I was told that it is modelled on a Flemish Renaissance style. Grahame Greene and Tolkien both have associations with the church, and Msgr Ronald Knox visited as a preacher. The current parish priest is Fr John Saward, who is known for his books and writings on the liturgy and art, especially the recently re-published classic, The Beauty of Holiness and the Holiness of Beauty: Art, Sanctity, and the Truth of Catholicism. He told us that he has a new book coming out soon, to be published by Angelico Press, on angels. I can’t wait!

Fr John is the driving force behind the current look of the interior, and he very kindly gave us a guided tour himself. Some of the art is from the period following the founding of the parish, but most of it has been commissioned by him within the last 15 years or so, and was painted by the excellent Catholic artist James Gillick. James is a successful portrait and still-life painter who works in oils in a naturalistic style. The color schemes and blend of styles he has used are all carefully chosen to work as an integrated whole. The furnishings, many of which have also been commissioned for the church by Fr John, including a spectacular reredos and other wood carvings, are overseen by James and his brother Gabriel, who is an architect. Together they have a church design and restoration company, Gillick Brothers. Other members of their family have also contributed to the project: the statues have been restored to their original decoration by their father Gordon; curtains in dark purple have been made by Hannah, a seamstress, to cover the reredos and side-panels during Passiontide; and the carpentry for the new exposition throne and crucifix niche above the tabernacle was done by Benedict Gillick.

Here we see the church interior, with its reredos dominating the sanctuary.

The artworks in the reredos are in a variety of styles that blend very nicely. The pictures of Ss Gregory and Augustine have a Baroque look to them, while the Madonna and Child, with its gilded background and cherubic child, has the look of a late 15th or early 16th Italian Renaissance work. The cherubic quality is present but understated, which makes it more accessible to the modern eye.

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The Beautiful Death: Why We Favor Cut Flowers in the Sanctuary

At the start of May, month of Our Lady, and a month in which flowers start to become plentifully available again in four-season climates of the northern hemisphere, I thought I would share some sources and thoughts on the use of flowers and plants as church decorations.

Easter Sunday at the church of the Most Precious Blood, the home of the ICRSP Apostolate in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Photo courtesy of Allison Girone.

Years ago I was leading choir for the TLM in a church that was shared by two communities. The larger community seemed to have almost no awareness of the concept of ad orientem and, as a result, used to overdecorate the sanctuary with a veritable jungle of poinsettias at Christmas and lilies at Easter all around the front of the freestanding altar, apparently unaware of the fact (at least I hope so) that the TLM community had to come in and laboriously remove all these plants in order to have Mass, and then laboriously return all the plants to their former place in order not to cause offense. Eventually, the pastor caught on and gave instructions that the plants should be arranged in other parts of the sanctuary, leaving the front of the altar unobstructed.

In that phase of life, I had to spend a lot of time reading the General Instruction of the Roman Missal and various commentaries thereupon. The particular question of plants in church came up, both for the reason already mentioned, and because of concerns over potted living plants and artificial plants. Apart from the potted poinsettias and lilies, whose flowers fade fairly quickly in any case, Catholics have traditionally used cut flowers, cut greenery, and cut trees, and have avoided potted trees and shrubs and artificial flora in churches. Is there a good reason for that? Let’s see what a few sources have to say. 

Tasteful additions on a major feastday

In her very postconciliar guidebook with the almost doublespeak title The Ministry of Liturgical Environment (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2004; this has been revised again but I have not seen the more recent edition), Joyce Ann Zimmerman, C.PP.S. writes:

Fresh flowers and live greenery are “a reminder of the gift of life God has given to the human community” (BLS [Built of Living Stones] no. 129). During Advent “the floral decoration of the altar should be marked by a moderation” and “during Lent it is forbidden for the altar to be decorated with flowers (GIRM no. 305). Further, flowers are not to be placed on the altar but around it (see GIRM no. 305). The emphasis on “moderation” in this paragraph alerts us to the fact that our liturgical environment ought not to look like a floral shop or greenhouse! At the same time we ought to be encouraged to use flowers and greenery because they are natural and speak to us so eloquently of our Creator God. Dried flowers are natural and are a good choice, especially for communities with low budgets. Artificial flowers and greenery (especially the silk ones) look so real that it is very tempting to use them in our liturgical environment; since they are not natural their use is not desirable (see BLS no. 129). (pp. 35-36)

There is relatively little here one could disagree with. Even the point that flowers should not be placed on the altar has always been respected by traditionalists, who put the flowers on an elevated gradine behind the altar, on which also the candlesticks usually rest. Indeed, in one more irony, the modern-day table altar generally has candles on it (and sometimes a floral arrangement or decoration), whereas the traditional against-the-wall high altar has nothing on it except the altar cloths and altar cards.
 

Christmas flora

Sr. Zimmerman writes further: 

Lush, live green plants that speak to us of the vitality of life are especially appropriate during Ordinary Time. These usually need to be rotated into better light so the greenery stays fresh looking… Green plants near it [the ambo] (but not dominating) are appropriate and can be quite lovely. In the summer when fresh flowers are readily available (some parishes cultivate their own flower gardens for this purpose), it is always appropriate to use flowers in the sacred space (don’t forget the Blessed Sacrament Chapel!). Don’t make the space remind people of a floral shop, however! And remember: flowers are not permitted to be placed on the altar. (70)

She seems to envision living potted plants, which is a questionable proposition for reasons that I will go into below. It’s amusing to me that she worries the Blessed Sacrament Chapel will be neglected; for indeed the removal of Our Lord to a side space has had exactly the effect of causing negligence of His abiding presence in the tabernacle. Sister also encourages lots of flowers around the Easter candle (76)—no disagreement there.

Mark G. Boyer, in his relentlessly liturgistic The Liturgical Environment: What the Documents Say (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 2004; this too has subsequently been revised), defends the use of real plants:

In a plastic, throw-away society such as ours, it is easy to neglect genuineness… While it is much easier to buy silk flowers, BLS emphasizes the genuine living flowers and plants foster a greater appreciation for the gift of life that God has given to the community. (12)

Like cut flowers, a candle "dies" to fulfill its purpose

Interestingly (and digressing for a moment), Boyer is more hard-line than a lot of traditionalists are when it comes to candles. He writes:

[A]ny candles used in liturgical celebration must be made of wax. Candle tubes, oil lamps, electric bulbs, and other candle imitations violate the principle of integrity, that a thing be what it is, a living flame, a sign of the risen Christ, a sign that each person through baptism has been brought out of darkness and into the light of Christ. Therefore nothing can satisfy the demand for integrity in lights for liturgical use other than candles made of wax. (37)

It is a shame that he did not spell out the middle term of the argument, which is that real candles give light by “dying” to themselves, that is, by being spent: the light is “purchased” at the cost of the body of wax. This illustrates the ascetical principle that one must die to oneself in order to have life.

An example of altar-blocking clutter

Getting back to flowers, Boyer recognizes that a freestanding altar should remain free of floral encumbrance:

When flowers or other plants are used in decoration they should not impede the sight of the members of the assembly or the approaching of the altar from any side. Especially when incensing the altar, the bishop or priest needs to be able to circle the Lord’s table without stumbling through or trying to avoid candles and flowers. The directive certainly eliminates bouquets of flowers placed in front of the altar, nativity scenes erected in front of the altar… (39)

Now we turn with some relief to a decidedly preconciliar manual, the Right Reverend Monsignor Harold E. Collins’s The Church Edifice and Its Appointments (Westminster, MD: The Newman Bookshop, 1946; originally published in 1935). Msgr. Collins has a good deal to say on the subject of flowers, and it is worth noting that there is no adamant feeling against silk flowers.

The use of flowers to decorate the altar, though not prescribed either in the liturgical books or in the rubrics, is in entire accord with the traditional usages of the Church. The Caeremoniale Episcoporum permits vases carefully decorated with blossoms and leaves of sweet fragrance or artificially made of silk, to be placed between the candlesticks on the altar [i.e., on the gradine]. On the altars of the great basilicas of Rome, however, flowers are not used at all. Not to allow any flowers on the altar for the sake of being “liturgical” is another example of misplaced zeal. (154–55)

He then goes into some details:

Fresh Flowers. It is recommended that only the best blossoms be used for the altar. They should be freshly cut, long-stemmed, and hardy. They should not be crowded into a vase, but loosely arranged with suitable foliage. It is advised that flowers of but one color be used at a time [this seems rather arbitrary—PK], and that the color be appropriate for the feast being celebrated, as, for example, white for the Blessed Sacrament, red for Pentecost.
            Artificial Flowers. Artificial flowers, made of silk, are sanctioned by the Caeremoniale Episcoporum. Most writers of the present day regard them with disfavor and will extend them tolerance only when they are of superior quality. The Cardinal Vicar of Rome in his Instructions issued in June 1932 has forbidden the use of artificial flowers and has ordered them removed at once from churches and oratories and from altars in Rome.
            Plants. Some think that plants imbedded in soil in large flowerpots should not be used on the altar. There would seem to be no objection to the use of potted plants outside the altar in the sanctuary. Potted plants placed on carpet often leave a marked ring.
            Quantity. No explicit instructions have been given concerning the quantity of flowers to be used on the altar, but liturgical writers are unanimous in saying that flowers should be used with restraint or soberly. Flowers are ornaments of the altar and, though they may be very beautiful, they are entirely subsidiary, and their use is intended to mark a special degree of festivity. It is unbecoming to make the altar, the table of sacrifice, a mere stand for flowers. An altar which has a richly colored and decorative reredos, or even a dossal, needs only a few flowers to attract attention to its loveliness.  To pile up vases of flowers one tier above another on stands and temporary shelves until the panels of the reredos or the folds of the dossal are almost completely obscure is plainly a violation of all the canons of good taste and common sense. An altar which is a pyramid of flowers is badly decorated and a distraction, rather than an aid to devotion. (155–56)

As to where the flowers should be placed, Collins tells us:

The correct place on the altar for vases of flowers is between the candlesticks. If there be a gradine on the altar, the vases of flowers should be placed on the gradine, rather than on the table of the altar. Flowers may also be placed on the sides or on the steps of the altar, provided they do not interfere with the sacred functions. Flowers are never permitted on the top of, or before the door of, the tabernacle. (156–57)

The ban on flowers during Lent does not prevent other kinds of plant decoration, such as these cut palm branches on Palm Sunday

He then handily summarizes (157) when flowers are forbidden: on the occasion of funeral services in the church; during Advent and Lent, when the Mass of the Sunday or feria is read. They are permitted during Advent and Lent on these occasions: Gaudete Sunday; Laetare Sunday; Holy Thursday; Holy Saturday; the First Communion of children; during the month of March (!) out of devotion to St. Joseph. Nowadays, I suspect we would not be quite so generous with flowers in March, except on March 19 and perhaps March 25. He notes, interestingly, that flowers are permitted, in spite of the violet vestments, on the Feast of the Holy Innocents (since violet was used in pre-55 practice on December 28), on the Sundays of Septuagesimatide, on Rogation Days, and on Vigils.

The Rev. Henry Smart’s The Altar: Its Ornaments and Its Care (New York: Morehouse Publishing Co., 1925) offers an almost spiritual commentary:

Sweet flowers are used to beautify the Altar. Jesus loved flowers and all things beautiful. He has told us to “consider” them—St. Matt. VI, 28. Because flowers are beautiful and testify to the bounty and goodness of God, they are especially appropriate for decoration in the House of God. Thus flowers symbolize spiritual joy, and are in honor of Jesus, who is the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley.
       The attending to and arrangement of the Altar flowers is a most important branch of Altar work, and one allowing of considerable taste and skill. Careful thought should be given to the selection of flowers, especially in vesting the Altar. Flowers can often be selected to harmonize with the color appointed for the day or season. For the great festivals of the Church, white flowers are preferable. When they can be had, red peonies are very beautiful and appropriate for Whitsun Day [Pentecost]....
       When flowers wither or decay, theymust be removed from the Church at once. Artificial flowers should never be used. (17–18)

Smith goes on to give a list of flowers suggested for each month, and, later in the book (pp. 64–65), furnishes a symbolic reading of floral emblems to be used in church, vestment, and antependium decoration.
 

Why, to return now to our original question, should we use cut flowers or plants destined to be discarded? As Our Lord Himself sacrificed His life for sinners, and as we die to ourselves in union with Him, flowers too “sacrifice” themselves to be at the altar, in the sanctuary—cut ones especially, but even the potted ones commonly used at Christmas and Easter. They are truly a sacrifice of praise! Living green plants such as ferns don’t sacrifice themselves, they aren’t a sacrifice of praise; they don’t die (unless one kills them by failing to take care of them).

Some may try to evade the logic by saying: Well, precisely by not dying they symbolize permanent life! How Paschaltidy! But that’s just the problem. Christ offers not ongoing natural life, but a new and eternal life gained by participation in His death and resurrection, made present on the altar and reserved in the tabernacle. Death, therefore, is a requirement for life. This paradox, at the heart of our faith, is reflected in the way we use plants in decorating our churches.

The Chapel of Thomas Aquinas College’s New England Campus

Beginning with the fall semester of 2019, Thomas Aquinas College has been operating a second campus in Northfield, Massachusetts. The property was built for a Protestant school originally known as the Northfield Seminary for Young Ladies, which later became the Northfield Mt Hermon School, and now operates on a different campus. The campus includes a beautiful chapel in the collegiate Gothic style, which was rededicated as a Catholic chapel named for Our Lady of Perpetual Help when TAC took over. A friend of Peter (who is an alumnus of the California campus) recently visited, and very kindly shared these pictures with us. Most of the decorations have been added within the last three years, and I’d say the place has Catholicked up very nicely!

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New Statues for the Cathedral of Covington, Kentucky

Our friend Fr Jordan Hainsey has sent us some pictures of the sculptures recently added to the façade of the cathedral of his diocese, Covington, Kentucky. He writes, “On Sunday, June 6, Bishop Roger Foys and the faithful of Covington, Kentucky, blessed and dedicated 24 new statues and two tympana on the façade of the cathedral of the Assumption during Solemn Vespers of Corpus Christi. Modeled after some of France’s great Gothic churches like St Denis and Notre-Dame de Paris, the cathedral was begun in 1894 by Covington’s third bishop, Camillus Paul Maes; while much of the construction and decoration were completed by 1915, a good deal of the work envisioned by Bishop Maes remained unfinished.

World-renowned ecclesiastical artist Neilson Carlin was commissioned to design 24 statues honoring the Diocese of Covington’s parishes and institutions, and 2 tympana bas-reliefs to complete the tripart Marian schema of the portals. They are made of Bedford limestone taken from the same quarry which provided material for the original façade in 1908.

Twenty, full-round statues fill the portal jamb niches (L-R): Saints John the Baptist, Barbara, James the Greater

Agnes, William of York, Timothy

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The Church of Ss Peter and Paul in Tylicz, Poland

A recent post about a Dominican Mass in a church in L’viv, Ukraine, which has some interesting fresco work on its interior walls, reminded reader Robert Prybyla of a church with a similarly colorful painted interior which he visited in a village in southern Poland called Tylicz. The church was originally built in 1612, and dedicated to Ss Peter and Paul; it is made almost entirely out of wood, although the roof and cupola are now covered in metal. The altars are from the later part of the 18th century, and the paintings over them are older, but much of the painting of the walls was done in two phases relatively recently, in 1950 and 1960. Thanks to Mr Prybyla for sharing these pictures with us.

“The House of God”

The main altar, with a painting of the Virgin and Child that slightly predates the construction of the church.

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Another Wreckovated Church Gets Un-wrecked

Holy Family Parish in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, within the Diocese of Greensburg, recently completed a very nice restoration and de-wreckovation. Under the leadership of Fr Daniel Mahoney, V.F., the parish put back the ornately patterned ceiling, a high altar, murals of varies “modern” Saints around the nave, as well as all new lighting and sound system, etc. The decorative work, murals, and painting were done by EverGreene Architectural Arts; the restored churched was blessed with the dedication of the new altar by Bishop Edward Malesic on June 25, 2017. Our thanks to Mr Christopher Pujol, a seminarian of the diocese of Greensburg, for sharing these photos with us, and our congratulations to Fr Mahoney and Bishop Malesic for bringing beauty back to this church. Ad multos annos!

The church prior to the renovations of 1967. Notice the murals, ornamented ceiling, and the similarity to the newly restored high altar seen below. Images of the Holy Family crown the arch.

This is the 1967 renovation of the church as pictured in the commemorative booklet from the consecration; the high altar, pulpit, and all decorative paintings have been removed.

The altar installed in 1967 was granite, and consecrated with the rite in the revised Pontifical of 1961, according to the commemorative booklet of the day. The relic chamber can be seen in the front of the altar where the relics from the original altar were placed; these have now been moved to the new high altar. The booklet from 1967 notes “This restoration observes the prescriptions given in the tradition of the Roman Church, assigning dignity to the altar by due attention to essentials and not to temporary decorations.”

A more modern photo of the church prior to the restoration of 2017.

The restored church played off the original design by returning the Holy Family to the arch; Christ the Divine Teacher takes the center position, as the parish school is claimed in His name. The focus again becomes the great window of the crucifixion in the apse, as well as the restored high altar with tabernacle.

The new high altar comes from a closed church in the Archdiocese of Baltimore; it is strikingly similar to the original altar of Holy Family. The relics deposited within the mensa are the same from the original high altar.

The beginning of a celebration of Low Mass at the new High Altar, by Fr Daniel Mahoney, assisted by Mr Christopher Pujol, June 2018.

Returning to Beauty in Church Design: Article on NCR

The National Catholic Register recently published a good article by Trent Beattie on the ever growing trend back towards more traditional and more beautiful designs in churches, and some of the firms that are helping to bring this about. I was particularly struck by this line from David Riccio, who works for John Canning Studios, a firm that did some of the work on the shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in LaCrosse, Wisconsin.

“...beautiful churches usually cost no more than mediocre or ugly ones. ‘Mediocre or bad church designs can cost just as much as good ones, and the durability is not usually there, so you can easily end up paying even more over the years for a mediocre or bad design than a good one,’ Riccio said.”

(This reminds me of an occasion many years ago, when I was walking with a priest friend through the Roman streets near the Pantheon where many of the shops are that sell vestments and other church goods. In my youth an naiveté, I was surprised to notice that a polyester chasuble with a nightmarish design was more than three times as expensive as a chasuble and all of the additions, including the maniple, in the window of a more reputable firm down the street. To this, my priest said, “Oh yes, poverty is terribly expensive!”)

The article also mentions the church of St Pius X in Granger, Indiana, a new construction which replaced a far less attractive church from the 1970s, and the restoration of the St Turibius Chapel at the Pontifical Seminary Josephinum in Columbus, Ohio, both of which we have recently covered here. Here are photos of the latter as it looked before wreckovation, the results of the wreckovation, and the recent undoing of it.

164 Stained Glass Windows (Church of St Paul in Westerville, Ohio)

Our thanks to Mr Mark Cousineau for providing us these photos of the church of St Paul the Apostle in Westerville, Ohio, and to Mr Bruce Buchanan for his description of the project to install in the church 164 stained glass windows, many of which were rescued from recently closed churches in the Diocese of Cleveland. The project was just completed a few days a Click here to read an article about the project from the Columbus Dispatch, which quotes Dennis McNamara, whom we have featured here many times, one the return to traditional church designs, and away from “churches that look like airplane hangars.” 

In June 2010, the church of Saint Paul the Apostle in Westerville, Ohio, celebrated the dedication of its new building. About a year earlier, the artists and craftsmen of Cleveland-based Henningers Inc started work on what would eventually be 164 new and refurbished stained glass windows for the new building. Now, years later, the last of these windows are finally being installed, the end of a long and complicated process.

Working on a window of Our Lady of t Carmel

The finished product, along with St Sebastian

In 2009, the parish was about to begin construction of a new church, the third building in its history, and the largest Catholic Church in Ohio. As the building project itself was such a large one, there were no immediate plans for stained glass; that would come later, or so it was thought. The Diocese of Cleveland, however, had just undergone a significant downsizing and consolidated many of its parishes, leaving many buildings empty, and a great many stained glass windows in crates. The opportunity to re-use these discarded windows was one which could not be passed up.

Saint Paul purchased stained glass windows, all between 70 to 100 years old, from three separate closed churches. One set had incredibly colorful geometric patterns and dozens of medallions of saints and religious symbols, another group had large narrative scenes of the New and Old Testament, with ornate painted scrollwork borders. The third set had large round windows with scenes from the life of Christ. All of the windows were beautiful in their own way, but markedly different in style; the challenge would be to synthesize the windows into a cohesive overall scheme.

A decorative zig-zag border pattern was pulled from the geometric windows, then copied and used in

every new window in the church. The elaborately painted scrollwork from the narrative windows was duplicated and repeated in nameplates and decorative flourishes throughout the church, while stenciled rosettes were copied and incorporated in newly created windows over the front doors. A new background grid pattern of brown and clear swirled glass would provide a unifying framework for the various scenes and saints and symbols. Every window in the church was designed to fit in the new openings with mixed stylistic elements that could harmoniously sit together.

Given that the windows were so old, they all benefited from being taken apart, cleaned, and rebuilt with new lead, a typical procedure with older, time-worn stained glass panels. Once apart, they could be re-arranged to the new specifications. Some parts, like the geometric knot patterns and the painted scenes were rebuilt exactly as they had been. Other decorative painted pieces were too good not to re-purpose and incorporate wherever possible. New glass borders and backgrounds were cut to frame the painted scenes and medallions.

There were dozens of windows to re-arrange and fit into the new church’s design scheme, but one could hardly expect the found treasures to meet all of the needs of the new church. There were Saints and symbols that would need to be made from scratch to match the old glass. In the end, two dozen new medallions were painted to complete the clerestory, confessionals, and shrines. A series of 40 new standing-figure Saint windows were created to line the ambulatory around the perimeter of the church. Working with the parish and the donors to design the medallions and Saint windows was an incredible learning process, which gave us the opportunity to research lesser known Saints and learn more about the ones we thought we knew.

St Charles Borromeo

Preparatory work for a window of St Damian of Molokai, and the final product.

Perhaps the most satisfying design challenge of the whole project was the 12 foot rose window, with a crucifixion scene surrounded by twelve petals. The image of Christ on the cross with adoring angels was originally a tall thin lancet in three panels. Here, new glass was added to expand the sky and clouds and make a round center for the rose. The twelve petals around it, while mostly new, incorporate old glass and design motifs from all of the churches from which the old stained glass had been purchased. This kaleidoscope of glass is a new creation made from the old, so that the grandest window of this new church pays homage to the old churches that made this project possible.

Over the course of the years, it has been satisfying to see Saint Paul the Apostle Church slowly filled with stained glass. Bit by bit, window by window, patron by patron, the place has been transformed. It will be satisfying to install the last of the remaining windows, but the biggest change came last December when the final windows in the sanctuary itself were installed. The natural light in the church was forever changed. The outside world was obscured, and the sacred space inside felt different, becoming quieter and more serene. Old stained glass windows that had watched over worshippers for 100 years were once again doing their work.

(more pictures below)

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