Atop the Scaffolding

Cathedral scaffolding

Today, our local newspaper (the online version) posted this video of the renovation at St. Patrick Cathedral in Norwich, CT (Climb to the Ceiling of St. Patrick's in Norwich), the church where my daughter sings in the Diocesan Choir.  The platform that the artists are using to walk around is atop the entire scaffolding, a portion of which is pictured here.  It amazes me how much the upper part of the scaffolding looks like a room (see photo gallery).  The cathedral will be absolutely beautiful when the work is finished.

Related web articles:
Symbolism at Heart of St. Patrick's Redo
A Photo Gallery:  Renovations at Cathedral of St. Patrick

Related articles on A Struggling Believer:
Scaffolding Everywhere, Rebuilding the Church

Scaffolding Everywhere, Rebuilding the Church

This evening, my daughter had her first solo in a concert at St. Patrick Cathedral in Norwich, CT.  She sings in the Diocesan Choir there, and has for almost six years, so the opportunity to perform alone, even if it was only for eight measures, was much appreciated.  Anyway, when I arrived for the concert, I found this:

Scaffolding in St. Patrick Cathedral

Katherine the Great had warned me that the sanctuary was "full" of scaffolding, and I believed her, but I certainly couldn't imagine what "full" meant.  Well, all I can say is...wow!

After speaking to some of the parishioners at St. Patrick, I was given to understand that all the scaffolding was to support the work of restoring the murals that once graced the ceiling of the church, as seen in this postcard from 1909.

Postcard of St. Patrick Cathedral

According to one concertgoer that I met, the artwork disappeared during the tenure of Pope Paul VI (1963-1978).  The official renovation brochure put out by the diocese merely states that "over the years" the murals were painted over.  No explanation was given me as to why this eradication occurred, but it did, and now it is being undone.

I must admit, not being Catholic and not being a parishioner at St. Patrick, when I first heard that this painting was going to be done and when I first saw the paint tests, I thought it might be a gigantic waste of money to restore the cathedral, money that could be better spent on ministry and outreach.  Then again, the Israelites applied a lot of artistic skill and wealth to the wilderness tabernacle because it was the house of God (see Exodus, Chapters 25-30), so who am I to question the bishop and his plans for the local cathedral?

The ceiling and its murals should be finished by the middle of summer, if not sooner, just in time for the Diamond Jubilee Mass at the end of July 2013.  For now, this is the only glimpse I could get of the actual artwork that, when finished, will depict the life of Christ.

A sneak peek of a mural in St. Patrick Cathedral

To see/read a complete brochure on the cathedral renovation, click here.
To read an article about the Life of Christ murals and to see a rendering of them, click here.

Reflections on a Window at St. Mary's

At the moment, I am sitting in the sanctuary of St. Mary's Catholic Church in Stonington, CT, listening to Schola Cantorum rehearse for Mass on Sunday morning.  Katherine the Great was invited to join the group at the last minute for this performance and couldn't pass up the opportunity to see the inside of the only borough church she has never entered.  She is currently in the choir loft, singing beautifully (as always) and sight reading all the music.

Hiding in a rear corner pew on the right side of the sanctuary, I am enjoying the light as it streams in through the gorgeous stained glass windows, twilight drawing ever nearer as I watch.  It isn't very often that I find myself in a church this time of day.  Summertime services are almost always held indoors during the brightest part of the day so parishioners can find some respite from the seasonal heat or outdoors in the evening where the refreshing sea breeze that graces the Connecticut shoreline can provide some much needed relief from the high temperatures and humidity, especially in August.

Growing up Lutheran, and spending so much time in Catholic and Episcopal churches because of my daughter's music performances, I have trouble understanding how anyone can consistently worship in the sterile, multi-purpose buildings that are so often erected by non-denominational congregations, buildings that more often than not have small windows sporting plastic Venetian blinds, usually in white or some horrible shade of mauve.  I know that sounds awful and prejudiced and judgmental and unkind toward my fellow Christians.  I don't mean it to come out that way.  It's just that stained glass windows really are gorgeous;  they tell the story of Scripture (at least they do at this church);  and they represent the use of a God-given gift in service to the Church, the Body of Christ.  To worship surrounded by such reminders of God, the beauty of His creative activity, and the story of His connection to His people is quite moving.  The experience can help inspire the believer to aspire to a greater love of God and a greater desire to serve Him.

This evening, sitting in the rear pew, I am situated beneath the window of Christ on the cross with His mother Mary and the apostle John looking on.  At the bottom are the words, "Into Thy Hands I Commend My Spirit."  Interesting that, as I prepare to leave (now that choir rehearsal is over), the light is gone.  The sun has set and the window is completely dark, just as darkness fell on the day Christ died.  The light will return in the morning, just as Christ returned to us (and for us) on Easter.

Even a stained glass window can tell the story of the Gospel just by standing each day in the light and darkness of the world God created.