Empty Tabernacle Tour of Lower Manhattan

There are many different devotions for the Triduum that take you on a mini-pilgrimage. Some people walk the Stations of the Cross through neighborhood streets. Others spend Holy Thursday night driving around to visit the Eucharist at seven different churches before midnight.

The Southern Baron has introduced me to the New Orleans Good Friday Nine Church Walk custom. If you start early and have a plan you can visit nine empty tabernacles before the 3pm liturgy. Luckily the NYC skyline is crammed with church steeples, so we have plenty of nearby opportunities to make it happen.

This Holy Week we're planning a route through the Upper East Side. Last year we started near Battery Park and worked our way up to Midtown West, traveling from the early days of the American Church to the site of some recent archdiocesan controversy. Besides being an interesting walking tour (who knew there were zero churches in TriBeCa?), it was a beautiful experience of the universality of the Church. Witnessing the once-a-year bare emptiness of parishes is always a favorite of mine too.

You can see the entire itinerary after the jump! No selfie sticks were used or harmed in the making of this field trip.

Being a (Mostly) Shiksa in Brooklyn

A Pedi Sukkah in Downtown
Brooklyn last year

More than any place I've ever worked, New York City is very aware of Jewish holidays. Last month I had to meet deadlines before colleagues took time off for Rosh Hoshanah. During the high holy days parking for the synagogue on my street spilled down the block. Now it's time for Sukkot, and the Pedi Sukkah guys are out in force again. It's really an ingenious setup: they pedal portable booths around Brooklyn and offer passersby the interwoven tree branches and citron for the traditional Sukkot blessing.

"Are you Jewish?" The question is inevitable if I make eye contact, and sometimes even if I don't. I always feel like I'm letting them down when I say no.

I try for an ecumenical encounter instead. "Hey cool, religious devotion in public! I like Psalms too. High five!" But they're interested in member retention, not evangelization. Chabad-Lubavitch groups remind me of Opus Dei at times - well funded, well connected, trying to inspire their coreligionists to embrace traditional devotions. Likewise, the Hasidic schoolgirls I sometimes see on the subway are always clad in the universal homeschooler uniform of long skirts and layered tops.

For the record, I'm not entirely a shiksha. By blood I'm 25% Jewish, but on my Dad's side so it doesn't really count. My paternal grandfather grew up a very secular Jew and then embraced Catholicism when he met my grandmother and her devout Italian parents. Probably the most Jewish things about my LaVigne great-grandparents were that they ate schmaltz as children and eventually retired to Boca Raton. Still, my relatives and I have never completely lost those roots. Our surname looks French because an Ashkenazi ancestor was trying to avoid persecution, so the story goes. We throw around Yiddish expressions and talk loudly with our hands. My grandpa loves lox and keeps his freezer stocked with blintzes. He grew up in his parents' grocery stores, and the family passion for finding good deals is deep in my DNA.

Especially before I took my husband's name, acquaintances have often assumed I'm not a goy. Almost everyone on my dad's side has this problem. When I worked at history camp the teenage boys called me "Jew Hair." There have been awkward moments when someone wishes me L'shanah Tovah or asks what I'm doing for Hanukkah. Last Good Friday I had literally been in Penn Station five minutes when a beaming Orthodox woman told me "Happy Pesach!" (I was wearing sensible black shoes with tights and a modest dress, should have seen that one coming.)

So I can "pass," so what? At the risk of sounding presumptuous, I feel a kinship with the children of Israel that I cannot shake. Perhaps my sadness at declining a Sukkot blessing comes from a desire for unity. I wish I knew the Hebrew alphabet and all the holy day traditions and we could pray together to the God we both believe. We already read the same scriptures.

Even if I'm not really part of the club, the Jewishness of NYC gives me hope. In a cosmopolitan city so often associated with secular excess and iniquity, one of the world's most persecuted religious groups has made a home, flourished, and left an indelible mark. The men in sidelocks and yarmulkes boldly striding down the street remind me I don't have to be ashamed of being a religious person. If New York has room for them, it can welcome a "nice Catholic girl" too, even if her life is far less exciting than Carrie Bradshaw's. You might seem wicked, Gotham, but deep down you are holy.

That Time the Pope Went to the World's Fair

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the 1964 World's Fair in New York City. Not unlike the modern

The Unisphere on my visit in June

Olympics, the Fair didn't turn a profit, but it hosted months of culturally significant spectacles. The Ford Mustang was introduced, Walt Disney launched the It's a Small World ride, Andy Warhol mocked politicians with some controversial pop art, civil rights activists staged protests blocking highway ramps, the Beatles played in Shea Shadium, and Bob Dylan infamously used an amp.

Like the New York's first World's Fair in 1939, this was the brainchild of infamous urban planner Robert Moses. (Cue chorus of boos from historic preservation fans.) Fading from political power towards the end of his career, he hoped hosting another World's Fair and turning Queens garbage dumps into the Flushing Meadows fairgrounds and park would cement his legacy.

Even though Moses was a jerk to tear down the old Penn station, I'll admit Flushing Meadows is a great park. Some of the fair buildings are still open as museums. The '64 Fair also gave Queens the amazingly topographic Unisphere, which has become an icon of the borough. It's a great example of space age public art that can belong to everyone, not unlike my old boyfriend the St. Louis arch. Plus, you can buy the world a Coke and keep it company while you're there. 

Vatican Pavilion at Flushing Meadows.
Collection of the NYPL. 

For Catholics, the '64 fair has special significance because it brought the United States its first papal visit ever! We have Robert Moses' ambition to thank for it. The Vatican had a pavilion at the Fair, and even shipped over Michaelangelo's Pieta to display there. Moses hoped his friend Cardinal Spellman could convince the Pope to stop by in a clutch PR move for the World's Fair.

And so on October 5, 1965, Pope Paul VI became the first pope to set foot on American soil. He spent only fourteen hours in NYC, establishing the usual cathedral-stadium-political arena template for future papal visits. After landing at the new JFK Airport in Queens, he spent most of his time in Manhattan at a mixture of modern and old-school locations. He visited St. Patrick's Cathedral and met with President Johnson at the Waldorf Astoria hotel. The Holy Father also addressed the United Nations, warning that "Politics do not suffice to sustain a durable peace." Later he said Mass at Yankee Stadium, not Moses' brainchild Shea Stadium (ooh burn!).Finally, on his way out of town, Paul VI did stop at the Flushing Meadows fairgrounds. Today a marble bench marks where he stood.

Pope Paul VI's whirlwind tour wasn't as substantial as later papal visits, but it was surely a landmark moment

Pope Paul VI window in St. Philomena church,
Livingston, NJ.

for American Catholics. Only a few years before, John F.Kennedy had become the first Catholic president and a beloved political figure. Seeing the Church's leader welcomed as an international dignitary must have cemented the fact that "papists' had been accepted as true Americans, not a dangerous superstitious group swearing loyalty to a foreign power. Also, American Catholicism was no longer just mission territory; it was a major wing of the Church garnering Vatican attention! Eleven years later Paul VI would canonize New Yorker Elizabeth Ann Seton as the first American-born saint, further establishing the United States' role in Catholic history.

I found evidence of this papal euphoria in a parish near me in New Jersey. With its simple yet vaguely colonial style, St. Philomena was probably built in the early 1970s before post-Vatican II modernism had really caught on. The ample stained glass windows depict mysteries of the rosary, local bishops, and ... Pope Paul VI's NYC visit. The window is amazing and bordering on souvenir-store kitch: Paul VI raises his hands in blessing amidst the Stars and Stripes, St. Patrick's, the UN, the Empire State Building, and the Statue of Liberty. (Sadly, the Unisphere did not make the cut.) A panel at the bottom notes the date of the pontiff's visit. Perhaps some parishioners fondly remembered attending the Mass in Yankee Stadium and donated the window? I'll be on the lookout for more Paul VI commemorations in the area. American Catholicism: if it can make it here, it can make it anywhere.

If you want to learn more about the 1964 World's Fair, I highly recommend Joseph Tirella's new book Tomorrow-Land: The 1964-65 World's Fair and the Transformation of America, from which I got much of the information in the post. If you find yourself in Grand Central this fall, you should also check out this free exhibit.

7 NYC Quick Takes

Linking up with Jen Fulweiler at Conversion Diary for 7 Quick Takes. Her new memoir, Something Other Than God, just arrived in the mail and I am super pumped to read it!

It's been a while since I've told any commuter stories, so here are some random NYC-ish things that have happened lately. If you're curious what life in New York is really like, Nathan Pyle's Basic NYC Tips and Etiquette pretty much nails the good, the bad, and the strategic positioning of it.

by Nathan Pyle

1. I gave a man directions on my subway ride to work, then he got mad at me for not knowing where the station's elevator was. 
   
2.  Lest you think all New Yorkers are rude, the next day I bonded with the man who got stuck in a traffic median with me waiting for the crosswalk sign to change. He joked that he would witness for me if I got hit by a bus; I helped him locate the nearest ATM. Meanwhile another man across from us decide to try and outrun the crossing traffic. "Hey, you wanna hit me mofo?!"
   
3. The subway is always a weird combination of high and low social brackets. One night at Chambers Street, a smelly/probably mentally ill guy got on and proceeded to stumble around the car belching and yelling at random intervals while clutching a Powerade bottle.  At one point he stood right over me. I alternately kept repeating to myself "This person is the Face of Christ, this person is the Face of Christ" and "Please don't vomit on my head."
   Then he got off at 14th Street and was replaced by a chick carrying a Louis Vuitton bag. She also skittered around the car, but because she couldn't keep her balance in her Louboutin heels.
   
4. A few Saturdays ago I hit up some places on Museum Mile and rode the NYC bus for the first time. Taking the M1 ten blocks from the Whitney to the Met took just about as long as walking. As an added bonus, I got to fight Upper East Side older ladies in structured jackets for personal space. They do not mess around.
   
   
5. Speaking of uptown women, yesterday I got a call from someone looking for weekday (?) brunch recommendations near my museum. For a group of 20 "ladies." The way their leader said "I don't really know Brooklyn," we might as well have been discussing Afghanistan. She practically gasped when I mentioned the new (and expensive) Hill Country Barbeque up the street. "That doesn't really sound like brunch."
   
6. Don't worry ma'am, the women of King's County still keep it classy, even if we do sometimes eat peasant cuts of meat on our lunch breaks. In Duane Reade last week I overheard someone telling her friends how she's overdue for her weekly manicure. "I was gardening at my mom's and now my nail are all farkakte!"
   
7. For us working stiffs, the endless cheap ethnic cuisine options are one of the best things to love about NYC. My office's best kept lunch secret is the local Hare Krishna temple vegetarian lunch buffet. It's like any food made with love by church ladies, only with more Indian spices. No one tries to hand you a flower like in Airplane, they're just all "Do you want cheesecake with that?" It's amazing.
   Sadly, the building is up for sale and some developer will probably make it into a hotel. Oh well, complaining about long gone favorites is practically the national pastime in this city.

An Open Letter to the Archdiocese of New York About Holy Innocents

Dear Cardinal Dolan,

Greetings in Christ! Like you, I am a transplant to the NYC area with Midwestern roots. It was an honor to attend the young adult Mass you celebrated at St. Patrick's Cathedral last December. Your joyful witness to our Catholic faith is such an inspiration.

It's come to my attention that the Archdiocese of New York is considering closing several churches. It's always a shame to see a parish go, but I get it. Neighborhood demographics change, and we're no longer in an era where multiple ethnic parishes need to co-exist within blocks of each other. Urban dioceses now find themselves with more real estate than they can handle. New York is an old city full of historic buildings, but it's also constantly evolving.

Among the parishes under consideration for closure is Holy Innocents on West 37th Street. Its closure would be a great loss to the spiritual life of the this city and a regrettable mistake.

The parish entrance on West 37th. 

I've gotten to know the parishes of Midtown West because of my daily commute from New Jersey to Brooklyn through Penn Station. Once Penn was a magnificent landmark, a beautiful space carefully designed by a famous architect. But Manhattan changed, as it always does, and the old Penn was deemed unnecessary. You know the rest - good design was demolished and replaced with a smaller dungeon. Today that unnecessary, beautiful old station is sorely missed and needed. The new Penn is too overcrowded to meet commuters' needs, let alone elevate their daily lives.

When I get weary from spending two hours a day in crowded underground metal boxes, I know there are refuges of peace and grace not far away. At first glance, consolidating the parishes of Midtown West might seem like an obvious practical move. There are three churches within five blocks of Penn Station, an embarrassment of religious riches. The largest of these, St. Francis, offers an impressive array of sacrament times and ministries, seemingly enough to serve the area. Both St. Francis and Holy Innocents have been godsends on bad days. St. Francis is like the department store of sacraments - it's big, convenient, and offers a wide selection to suit your needs. Mass, adoration, and confession happen nonstop during rush hour. I'm eternally grateful for the kind wisdom offered by Franciscan friars willing to get up early so we can sleepily stare each other down in a confessional at 8am.

If St. Francis is Macy's, Holy Innocents is an independent boutique. Its building is smaller and more intimate, marked by a small neon cross peeking out between wholesale clothing shops and a kosher falafel/shwarma place. It has fewer Mass times, but what it does offer is superb. The reverent liturgies there are exquisite and even better, accessible. Attend any of their Latin masses, and you'll see everyone from commuters in business attire to the kid in a plastic vest who was hawking tour bus tickets outside. Getting to know the extraordinary form of the Mass can be challenging. To us born after Vatican II, this part of our Catholic heritage feels like a foreign country. Holy Innocents makes our liturgical patrimony feel one of the rich cultural experiences available here in NYC, ready for new explorers to dive right in. At other homes of the EF I've felt like an outsider, but at Holy Innocents I've only found a warm welcome with humility, not snobbery. 

The Constantino Brumidi mural at Holy Innocents

The EF Mass could happen at any parish, but there are two more reasons not to close this gem of a church.

1. Closing Holy Innocents would mean the loss of an important artist's work. The mural behind the altar is an historic fresco by Constantino Brumidi, the same Italian immigrant who decorated the rotunda of the US Capitol building in the 1860s. Brumidi is so significant, he posthumously received the Congressional Medal of Honor in 2012. He left Italy because he was on the outs with Pope Gregory XVI, so a painting he did for the Church is an ironic rarity. Much as I love the Apotheosis of Washington, the sacrifice of Calvary is even more valuable. The parish has already invested a good deal of time and money to restore the mural's original brilliance. The scaffolding currently surrounding St. Patrick's Cathedral demonstrates the Archdiocese's commitment to historic preservation, so I know the Church can continue to keep up with the federal government in promotion of great art.

Brumidi's Apotheosis of Washington mural in the Capitol rotunda
(Via Architect of the Capitol)

2.  On a more practical note, Midtown West is just too crowded for just one parish. The soon-to-open 7 subway line extension and Hudson Yards redevelopment are only going to bring more traffic to the West Side. (My job involves transit news, so I have subway construction on the brain.) If there's a Duane Reade every ten feet in this town, surely one busy neighborhood can handle multiple churches.

For example, on Good Friday my husband and I initially planned to attend the 3 pm liturgy at St. Francis since it was earlier than other nearby offerings. Arriving at 2:45, we found It was already standing room only with packed aisles. So we walked up six blocks to the 3:30 at Holy Innocents, which was also well attended. If St. Francis is that busy now, imagine the crowds with two more parishes' worth of attendees. 

Please, don't make the same mistake the railroads did with Penn Station. Holy Innocents is cherished now and elevates the lives of many New Yorkers. It may be even more needed in the future.

God bless,
Sarah D. 

7 Starting Lent Quick Takes

1. As a New Orleanian, the Southern Baron firmly believes that revelry beforehand is a key part of preparing for Lent. One day we'll make it back to the Crescent City for Mardi Gras, but for now we hosted a party for church friends with lots of jambalaya.
   
2. Fat Tuesday ended up being a date night near Times Square. We celebrated junk food by eating dinner at Shake Shack and then killing time at the M&Ms store. At this three story temple to American sugar consumption you can get candies in every color decorated with personalized stamps, or buy everything from t-shirts to baking equipment. But no Jedi candy dispensers - they only carry Empire characters. 



If there's not enough candy for you,
you can go to their rival Hershey across the street. 

3. Then we saw Ian McKellan and Patrick Stewart in Waiting for Godot, which turned out to be perfect for the night before Lent. The bare set was focused on an almost-dead tree, and we both loved catching all the crucifixion references. One of my favorite parts was at the beginning when the two leads debate the different Gospel narratives about the two thieves who died alongside Jesus. "One of the thieves was saved...It's a reasonable percentage."





View from the cheap seats. 

4. On Ash Wednesday we went to 7am Mass before work and got our #ashtags. This is mine after a full day of work. Every year this makes me realize how much I touch my face during the day.
   
   
   
   
5. I love how commuting into the city makes Ash Wednesday such a public holy day. The pastor of the Episcopal church in our town was giving out ashes at the train station. When I asked if I could take her picture, she said "Sure! Only if you take one with my phone too!" Then I told her about my vestment research, and she informed me her current purple chasuble was from Peru.
   
   
   
   
6. There were two other men in my office wearing ashes, and I only had three awkward "There's something on your face" conversations with strangers. My favorite was the young guy in my elevator on the way home. He gave me a concerned stare, and then shot a reproachful look to everyone else in the car.
   Kid: "Really? None of y'all gonna tell her? That she's got stuff on her face?"
   UPS Lady (rolls eyes): "C'mon, it's Ash Wednesday."
   Kid: "Oh, thank goodness. I was worried she ran into a chimney or something!"
   
7. One of my goals for Lent is to read more books and to review more Bible movies. On Tuesday our parish's young adult group is going to see Son of God. I will be sure to report back. In the meantime, here's my first post on Jesus movies if you're looking for some Lent viewing. 

Visit Jen at Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes!

7 Christmas Season Quick Takes

Happy New Year! And Merry Christmas too - if you want to get super traditional about it the Christmas season doesn't end until Candlemas on February 2. So don't feel bad if you don't get around to taking the tree down for a couple weeks. 

1. I've mentioned before how Christmas and I sometimes don't get along. Repetitive sappy music makes me stabby, and I'm weary of drumming up outrage for the annual  tradition of freaking out over the content of public decorations.
   Little did I know Christmas is my husband's favorite holiday. He's listened to annual my holiday rants without a peep, focusing on the Incarnation and patiently suggesting a few new festive activities each year. And it worked! As we spent our first December together, I found myself actually looking forward to firing up our Advent playlist and seeing all the decorations in the city.
   
2. That being said, Christmas caught us a little off guard. Oh shoot, we don't own stockings. Or lights. Don't you need a stand for a live tree? I really should have started gift shopping earlier. Fortunately buying a few strands of lights and a 3 foot artificial tree was enough to make our apartment look festive. Then my best friend surprised me with personalized stockings from Etsy!






Working in the development world means the December end-of-year fundraising push is about as busy as the finals season that stands between college students and Christmas break. I have new empathy for the employees of different charities who have filled my email account and mail box with their own donation appeals. Still, I am grateful that I work with a great team of people.  Especially when we take breaks by discussing how Queen Victoria basically invented the modern Christmas.

Even though we held back on full-out Christmas until Gaudete Sunday, I was very grateful for the onslaught of decorations in New York City that started even before Thanksgiving. Leaving work in the dark and cold is always depressing, so it was wonderful to have colorful lights greeting me everywhere. Even ugly old Penn Station. I really liked my friend Kelly's insightful post about how early festivity shouldn't trouble us too much - even the Blessed Mother celebrated Jesus' arrival before He was actually born! 

Outside the Stock Exchange after some frantic gift shopping at the Wall Street TJ Maxx
Christmas shopping crowds in the city were another story. While we didn't try to cram into Rockefeller Center for the tree lighting, we ended up tangled in the road closures and packed sidewalks anyway. But we survived, and it was worth it to attend a young adult mass at St. Patrick's celebrated by Cardinal Dolan himself! Seeing New York's archbishop in person has been on my bucket list for a  long time, and his down-to-earth preaching about St. Augustine did not disappoint.

Fun fact: my old Nicest Boss in the World in St. Louis was once a seminary classmate with "Tim." (Nicest Boss went on to be a happily married social worker instead of a priest.) I was pleased to note that you can still detect a hint of the STL in the Cardinal Archbishop's accent - his "Lord" sounds a little like "Laaard." Southern Baron noted Dolan's active personality - at one point he was actually fidgeting with his pectoral cross. Adorbs.



This was my first Christmas I haven't spent with my parents and siblings, but it was still joyful in my little apartment with only two people unwrapping gifts. The Southern Baron and I enjoyed actually celebrating traditions like Midnight Mass together. We also continued older ones, like buying Christmas cards on sale from museum gift shops.


The parish down the street on Christmas Day
For now, 2014 looks less eventful than last year, and that is fine with me. Starting a new job, moving to a new state, planning a wedding, and starting married life all in 6 months was an exhausting whirlwind. My goal this year is to get the most out of where I am right now, before the next big transition hits.
Our resolution as a couple is to pray together more - grace before meals doesn't count too much. Right now we're figuring out how to use the copy of Shorter Christian Prayer we got for Christmas. The Magnificat Magazine training wheels have been removed, and it's confusing.

Visit Jen Fulweiler at Conversion Diary for more quick takes! 

7 Commuting Quick Takes

Thanks to Jen for hosting the link-up! Head over to Conversion Diary for more quick takes! 

By Sophie Blackall for MTA Arts for Transit

1. I'm no stranger to commuting. My high school was a 45 minute drive from my house, so my family developed a complex "No Child Left Behind" carpool system to get there. During my volunteer year in St. Louis, every morning I would bail out of my roommate's car at a strategic red light and then hop on the Metrolink train. When I worked in DC I took my car, then a bus, and then the Metro Orange Line to get to work from my parents' house.
   
   But now I have become something else  - a New York commuter. On Christmas Eve I got the call offering me a museum job in Brooklyn. So now I finally live in the same state as The Betrothed (hooray!) and travel between New Jersey and NYC every day. E.B. White once wrote about "the New York of the commuter — the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night." Gee thanks. If you had to deal with post-Sandy PATH train closures too, you'd appreciate our scrappiness more, Mr. Charlotte's Web.


2. It's funny how my attitude about working in NYC has evolved. As I was packing to leave, I was all panicky. "Ahhhhck I work in the hippest borough and everyone around me will have a fabulous Sex and the City life and all my clothes are uncool!"
   
   Then I actually rode the subway, and realized that New York is full of ordinary people just trying to get to work in practical puffy coats. Phew. 
   
   My emotions then went through this weird adjustment cycle that I've noticed every time I get to know a new city. First I am nervous and scared of dangerous things lurking around every corner. Then after a few weeks I get jaded and homesick. "This place isn't that special. They have Chipotle like everywhere else!" Then I finally do some exploring and the place starts to feel like it's mine. Maybe it was my umpteenth trip to the Trader Joe's in the 1923 bank building on Court Street, but at some point I've realized this is my town too now.


3. This piece about "How to dress like a New Yorker" is absolutely true: people choose accessories for their functionality. After a week of commuting I knew I needed to invest in some sturdy booties and a huge bag to stuff my lunch, tea thermos, and reading material in. I always scoffed at designer purses, but now I get why women invest in a solid leather handbag.
   


4. My office has been involved with a lot of the events for Grand Central Terminal's 100th birthday. It's definitely one of the best public spaces I've ever seen. The Main Concourse is so lovely it makes me cry - not just because of the gorgeous ceiling, but because I have to deal with ugly Penn Station every day! Did you know there was an earlier Penn that was also gorgeous? Legendary Gilded Age designers McKim, Mead, and White made it beautiful, and then in the 1960s they tore it down. Thanks, Madison Square Garden, thanks a lot.
   
   

   

   I could be hanging out here every day! You're killing me, smalls!

   
   The only happy ending is that Penn became a martyr for the historic preservation movement, inspiring the City to protect Grand Central from the same fate. The Garden's permit is soon up for review, and some groups are pushing for an overhaul of the whole complex.


5. I've been playing morning Tetris with my train times, trying to figure out where I can hit up daily Mass on my way to the office. Our Lady of Victory near Wall Street is close to the subway with lots of morning options. St. Francis on West 31st is famous for its convenient confession schedule. Because of when my train rolls in to Penn, I can either be early or late for one of their morning Masses. On Wednesday I caught the end of the 7am and then the beginning of the 7:30, like a kid in an old-timey movie theater. At the Offertory I ran off to work, thinking, "This is where I came in."



St. Francis of Assisi Church, from jimcintosh's Flickr stream



6. I've gotten hooked on transit maps, especially this Tumblr of them. A few weeks ago I got to hear a talk by Massimo Vignelli, the modernist designer who made a controversial NYC subway map in the late 1970s. He made an uncluttered geometric diagram, but people still wanted the twisty, wavy spaghetti strands they were used to. As he put it "When you are taking a train, how it gets from Point A to Point B is none of your business!" He was recently vindicated when the MTA realized his design was the only one that would work for a digital app. Ha.
   

   

   Via Minkwell.com

7. Of course, I see all kinds of random people on the train. In the morning on my NJ Transit platform, I hear lots of bougie First World Problems like the architect coming to fix someone's door or how there was NOWHERE to get decent lamb shanks on Friday night. The subway is more diverse, of course. Sometimes there are hipsters, sometimes packs of school kids. I wonder about the conservatively dressed lady with the black Korn backpack. Did she steal it from her son? To the similarly mom-like lady rocking the fuchsia House of Dereon bag from Newark to the World Trade Center - respect.
   
   One night taking the R train to Park Slope, I saw a guy in Timberland boots reading a book by one of my favorite college professors. "Omigosh I know that guy!" I cried out. The reader was nice but a little weirded out. I had better luck with a well dressed older couple going uptown on the 2. They reminded me of my Mom's parents. The wife was wearing a killer pair of black boots with gold sparkly rivets all up the legs. I kept sneaking peeks at them without staring. As I got off at Penn, I just turned to her and said "Ma'am, your boots are freaking awesome." She smiled and thanked me. I was glad to be a part of her own commuter stories that day. 

Changing Popes

Losing a Vicar of Christ feels like a kick in the gut, a punch in the chest. It's like saying a final goodbye to a grandfather or your favorite teacher/mentor. It makes the Bark of Peter feel like a rickety canoe in a hurricane. It makes you want to call your family, and hug your friends. You can't help feeling a little abandoned. Suddenly, the symbol of your identity is gone, and you don't know how to go forward. 

The day Pope Benedict announced his retirement all I wanted to do was run into every church in New York City. "I need to be with my people!" my heart cried. On my way to the office I stopped at St. Peter's at 22 Barclay in lower Manhattan. (Greek revival 1834, oldest parish in New York.) I couldn't find the words to pray, so I just sat there with Jesus and pondered the papal tiara above the altar. Christ is the One who put it there, and He's the only man who will ever need to be the Church's savior.

St. Peter, St. Paul, and a crucifix painting that St. Elizabeth Seton prayed before

The departure of a pope is also exciting. This only happens a few times in a century. If the Easter Vigil is the Super Bowl of Catholicism, a conclave is the World Cup. Better start gearing up on your College of Cardinal stats. If you are as enterprising as my friend Steve, you can make a bracket. Nothing beats the absolute thrill of hearing "Habemus Papam!"

 It's eerie how The Betrothed and I just spent an evening sorting through his box of World Youth Day mementos. (We were both at Toronto 2012, but sadly there is no secretly prophetic photo where one of us obliviously walks past the other.) As we decided which things to keep in our future home, we talked about what it was like going to see the Pope, and how we had changed since then. Pope John Paul II was the pope of my childhood.  For us kids of the 80s and 90s, he and Mother Teresa were Catholicism. During his papacy I was baptized, received my first communion, and was confirmed (in the Year of the Holy Spirit for an added bonus). I attended Catholic school for 8 years.  I traveled to see him at World Youth Day, the longest and farthest I had ever been away from my family at that point. John Paul II told my generation that the Church loved us, that Christ needed us for His epic plan, and we leaped to the task. His love, joy, and compassion made me proud to be Catholic.

When JPII died, my own health came crashing down with him. I spent the sede vacante period going through medical tests trying to decipher the chronic illness that eventually forced me to drop out of college for a year. The day Benedict XVI was elected, I ran campus errands until a parish staffer found me collapsed from exhaustion in the campus ministry office. My life would never be the same, and that period of suffering would prove to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. Pope Benedict XVI was the pope of my transition to adulthood. During his papacy I bounced from one temporary stage to another - homebound invalid days, finishing college, a volunteer year, graduate school, long underemployment, and finally a real job. I met my future husband and prepared for marriage.

Through these changes, I often felt restless, rootless, and unsure of God's plan. Attending two public universities gave me lots of opportunities to wrestle with how the Church could relate to the questioning modern world. Luckily the Church's leader turned out to be not an attack dog, but a gentle nerd with an amazing analytical mind and stellar footnotes. His writings are always a revelation of eloquent clarity. Pope Benedict has urged my generation to reconsider our religious heritage, and we realized we were hungry for symbolic meaning, not just youth group catch phrases. If you had told my 17-year-old self that the "new springtime" of the Church would involve a revival of the Pre-Vatican II mass, I would not have believed it. The scandals and trials of recent years sometimes make it painful to be Catholic, but Benedict XVI has reminded us how true joy comes from the deep truths of the faith. As The Betrothed often says about him, "What a boss!"

Now this next pontiff will be the pope of my adult married life. Once again, I'll spend the sede vacante period adjusting to major new realities - I just moved 250 miles away from my hometown to start a job in a New York and am living out of boxes in a bare apartment. I don't know what the coming years will bring for me and the Church, but I know God will be with us.

The changing of popes is a reminder that Jesus is all that matters. No one person is the Church. She already found the man who meets all her many needs - the One who redeemed her. All the other vicars are just taking care of the place for a while until He gets back. Was Jesus like all of these men at once? Was He the perfect combination of Peter's passion, John XXIII's kindness, and Pius V's tenacity? He knows the right person for the right time, including this next conclave. 

So godspeed, dear Papa Benny. Thank you for your generous service, your great humility, your deep wisdom, and for putting the papacy on social media. I'll be reading one of your books on the subway today. Stopping in one of New York's many churches sounds like a good idea too.

Confessions of a Parish-hopper

In the past five years, I've lived in four different states. This has made me a little commitment-phobic about joining a parish. Should I volunteer for things when I'm just going to leave in a few months? What if there is something better across town? It's helpful to know all the local Mass and Confession times, after all. For better or worse, this has made me into a parish-hopper.

 When I lived in Delaware I ached for Catholic camaraderie. There weren't really any young adult groups to speak of. I went to Mass at the cute historic church up the road, and all the senior citizens gave me the side-eye.

Then I moved back to my hometown in the Diocese of Arlington, where there are more YA events going on than you can shake a stick at. For every weekly listserve I received, there was some other parish hosting a book club holy/happy hour. It was great, but overwhelming. Sometimes I felt like this:

The activities at my parish usually didn't fit my schedule, so I found myself exploring other options. There was the Holy Thursday 7 church pilgrimage from my old parish, the young professionals lectures in DC, the packed Theology on Tap that made me feel old, and the random wine and cheese that a friend invited me to. After a while I felt like Goldilocks trying on all these fellowship groups.

Maybe this one...

It wasn't until I started working on Capitol Hill that I found a place that felt just right. I could see the steeple of St. Peter's from my Metro stop. After long days dealing with tourist questions, the lovely, peaceful church was a place to relax and think. The parish activities were perfect too! Holy hour with confession took place every weeknight, and the friendly priests hosted wine-and-cheese receptions in their historic house rectory. (19th century furniture remains the way to my heart.) The bulletin featured a perfect blend of devout spirituality and social justice service opportunities.

Traveling Mass kits are always so nifty.

 I hopped onto the Monday evening Bible study and Saturday morning food pantry deliveries. By far my favorite outing was a hike in Great Falls Park. On the feast of my patron St. Elizabeth of Hungary, we checked out waterfalls, clambered over rocks, and attended Mass said on a picnic table. Best of all, the young adults group welcomed me without any awkwardness. Even though I technically lived an hour away, no one pointed at me and yelled:

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Just when I was settling in at St. Peter's and learning about all the Latin Mass options in Alexandria, I got a job in New York. See! I knew I was too transient to get on anyone's lector schedule!

So here I am at square one again, without a church home. The Betrothed has a wonderful parish in central Jersey, also named St. Peter's, but it's just too far from my job to be our permanent place. For now I'll hang out there while I shop around. Hey look! There are two parishes within walking distance of my office in Brooklyn, not to mention the historic ones in lower Manhattan....

Mary, Mary Everywhere

Happy Feast of Our Lady of Guadeloupe! The history nerd in me loves that this is a feast day with such strong ties to American history. Mary left behind a textile artifact that clearly references native culture, how cool it that? 

I also consider today my New York City anniversary. Three years ago The Betrothed and I went exploring at the Guggenheim and did some Christmas-y sightseeing. We went to Mass at St. Patrick's and saw some feast day processions getting underway. 

Flowers for Our Lady at St. Patricks, 2009

Last week I went to New York for an interview and had a similarly magical day. Just a few blocks over from St. Patricks is a similarly imposing Episcopal church, St. Bartholmew's. (Next to the Waldorf-Astoria, at 51st and Park Avenue) I had noticed St. Bart's the last time I met my friend Laura near her office there, and so decided to check out the inside. You can too in this virtual tour. 

Photo courtesy of Museum Planet

It was amazing. I kicked myself for forgetting my camera. The whole building was like a Gilded Age who's who - James Renwick and Stamford White designed aspects of it, the Vanderbilts were parishioners. There were Art Deco mosaics and the best angel holy water fonts I have ever seen. As an added bonus, I had walked in upon the Mt. Holyoke women's chorus rehearsing for a concert, so my poking around had a festive soundtrack. 

Photo courtesy of Museum Planet

The whole place was lovely and inspiring, but didn't feel the same as a Catholic church. God was there, but He wasn't Eucharistically There. My old vestment thesis intimidation was coming back too. Several times Anglican clerics practically patted me on the head when they learned I was a Papist girl. They basically told me "There, there, I'm sorry you follow a  Church that doesn't get the Arts like we do." 

Then I turned down a side hallway, where a rack of votive candles stood flickering. What to my wondering eyes should appear, but a Madonna and Child icon with plenty of pre-dieu kneelers. Episcopalians lighting candles to Mary? Count me in!! On my way to buy a candle, I also found this: 

Photo courtesy of Museum Planet

The south chapel's gorgeous Adoration of the Magi was painted by a female artist, Ethel Parsons Paullin, in 1919. The thirteen medallions around the arch depict scenes from the Nativity. It took my breath away as I thought about how far-reaching Mary's story can be. 

I don't like to think of Mary as some docile, silent person who never raised her voice, if only we could be like her. She was humble, but she was also the woman clothed with the sun and crowned with the stars in Revelation. Her Magnificat is her declaration of her confidence in God's blessings. She is the comforting mother wrapping us in the folds of her mantle, and the warrior striking at the head of the serpent. Christians build shrines of admiration because she is one classy lady, and she walked alongside Christ with dignity and joy. 

Lady Chapel in St. Patrick's Cathedral. Stamford White was here too.
Photo courtesy of Flickriver.com

What I Learned Wednesday

Emmy Cecilia at Journey of a Catholic Nerd Writer has started a new link-up, What I Learned Wednesday. Since I am also a Catholic nerd and love when someone else gives me a post topic, I couldn't say no. Here's what I have discovered this week. 

1) I am an eldest child, and I am a procrastinating perfectionist. This is normal.

Recently I checked out a bunch of books about birth order from the library. (After paying a big fine because I procrastinated about renewing the last batch, naturally.) My favorite title is the enticing, Growing Up Firstborn: The Pressure and Privilege of Being Number One. That's RIGHT Dr. Kevin Leman, we firstborns have it the WORST! 

The picture of firstborn perfectionism sounds like my life. Dwelling on past failures, gauging worth by the number of successes, blowing past accomplishment to focus on what needs to be done next. If you're always worried about doing a good enough job, then you hesitate to get started. This is exactly why I could never start school papers way in advance. I needed to mull over my topic and feel ready to write profound things. 

This has been particularly true for wedding planning. A long engagement of 16 months is doing me no favors. What if I pick out something now and hate it in 6 months? How can I make this celebration a reflection of me and my marriage if I don't even know what I like? You can't rush art. 

But at a certain point, you just have to pick something. I've gotten a little better at this over the years, especially with shopping. Which brings me to:

2) Never pay retail when you don't have to. 

I got an unexpected call this week offering me a job interview in another city. On Friday. Since I last built my professional wardrobe, I have lost 22 pounds. Hooray! Now all those pantsuits don't fit, and neither does my long winter coat. Cue what my family likes to call "Turbo Shopping." 

Burlington Coat Factory had a decent-yet-unorganized selection of wool coats, but I wasn't sure if I could do better elsewhere. I checked out the one day sale at Macy's - to find some of the exact same items from the other store, at twice the price. 

So today I went back to the first store, and picked up this fun, swingy Laundry coat. I paid $60 less than the Macy's sale price, and less than a third of the suggested retail value. Discount outlets can take more time and effort, but once again I learned that it is worth it. 

Cravat and platinum hairdo optional. 

St. Vincent Ferrer Church, New York City

When The Betrothed came back from England a few weeks ago, we spent a day wandering around New York  City. On our walk between The Frick Collection and meeting a college friend for cupcakes at Sprinkles, we peeked at a church at the corner of  Lexington Avenue and E 63rd Street. Janitors were sweeping up rose petals from an afternoon wedding procession.

St. Vincent Ferrer parish began in 1867, and its current building dates to 1918. Architect Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue designed the church, which is the most elaborate Gothic revival building I've seen since our field trip to the Newark Cathedral.

This reminds me of a medieval church I did a middle-school report on.

The sanctuary was just glorious. I've never seen seven lamps like that in a church that wasn't Anglo-Catholic. The altarpiece topped with Christ the King was carved in Belgium.

I wonder if the little dog/fox/wolf on top of the pew is a shoutout to the Dominicans
as God's dogs (Domini canes.)

The rood screen. 

Immaculate Conception shine

Side altar with tons of saints, plus Mary giving St. Dominic the rosary.

You can take a virtual tour of all the church's features and symbolism here. St. Vincent Ferrar is a peaceful oasis in a busy city. From the abundance of votive candles ($4 at the front desk, we bought one), you can tell many New Yorkers bring their intentions there. St. Vincent and St. Dominic, pray for us!

St. Monica Church, New York City

Whenever I'm traveling, I enjoy the chance to check out churches I've never seen before.

During my upper east side adventure visiting a friend last weekend, I went to Sunday Mass at a parish that was conveniently located literally around the corner. St. Monica's church building was begun in the 1880s and completed in 1906. It's in a pretty standard Gothic revival style, but the decorative elements are exceptionally good.

Thanks to recent renovations, the interior really sparkles. The freestanding altar is obviously a post-Vatican II addition, but it complements the original nicely.

The stained glass windows were one of my favorite parts. They seemed very L. C. Tiffany-esque, with their intricate detailing and the soft edges of the pictures. I wish I had had time to photograph all of them.

Quick Takes about the Big Apple

1. Last year my grad school class took a field trip to see the "Americana Week" antiques shows in New York. It was so much fun that this year several of my classmates and I planned a mini-reunion redux of the adventure. This time, instead of the Times Square Hampton Inn, we all crashed on the living room floor of H's tiny Upper East Side 5th floor walkup. (For the record, I did not have to subsist on salad this year. Thank goodness.)
2. Of course, it ended up being the snowiest weekend of the year, but wind and slush did not deter us from dec arts. We have been trained well. 





The view outside when we woke up on Saturday. 



3. All 5 of us wore some variation of "gray sweater dress/tights/boots" for our 4 exhibition journey. I swear this was an accident. 
4. There were tons of little kids running around in puffy coats, grabbing hunks of snow off the sidewalks. Since I am a child of the suburbs, I always wonder about kids in New York. Does an urban upbringing make you fearless? Do you remember those early years spent bundled up in a stroller behind a plastic shield? 
5. The newly-renovated New York Historical Society has a great kids' section. You can write newspaper headlines, record yourself speechifying, look at different boroughs through a viewmaster thingy, and get inaugurated as the first president. Oh, and there is a newsies touch-screen game. I owned at selling those papes. 





I also ran into the Marx Brothers



6. Here's a tip, kids: do NOT attempt to check a suitcase at The Met, even if you are just running through the Islamic galleries on your way to catch the Megabus. Their security guards are well-trained to think luggage = art thief/terrorist. They will politely, but firmly tell you to get lost. Even if they just watched you schlep said suitcase up two flights of stairs to the entrance. 
7. Speaking of suitcases, they are also totally impractical on the stair-laden subway.  After riding on public transportation in both New York and DC, I have decided that the subway is definitely superior to the Metro. (As if there were any question, amirite Washingtonians?)
   DC Metro advantages: Escalators, stations that don't feel claustrophobic, cleanliness, very little graffiti, colored lines with names and directions that quickly make sense on a map to the uninitiated. 
   NY Subway advantages: Express trains, an abundance of track options, flat rate for each ride, not needing to scan a card to exit, lack of easily broken escalators, MOSAICS. 

For more quick takes, visit Jen at Conversion Diary.

New York: A culinary recap

 At the end of every day on these long class trips I feel like I've lived through a week and am at a loss to sum up everything I've seen. Gluten-free survival is always a big part of my day, though. While all my classmates are looking forward to a platter of assorted sandwiches, I'm just praying there won't be any croutons or mysterious gravies. So I decided to chronicle New York by documenting every salad lunch. Stroke of genius or dorky idea? Whatever, I had fun doing it, and I happily did not starve or have to resort to sandwich meat and potato chips. . 

Day 1, Tuesday: Sotheby's auction house 11th floor cafe. Spinach with chicken, asparagus, roasted beets, and mushrooms tossed in lemon herb vinaigrette. Pretty tasty, though not as lemony as I hoped. We had several Devil Wears Prada moments when 80 lb. girls dressed in black cut ahead of us in line.

Day 2, Wednesday, Metropolitan Museum of Art American Wing curatorial conference room: Spinach salad of candied walnuts, sauteed pears, dried cranberries, blue cheese, and balsamic vinaigrette. Classmate L gave me her salad tomato. The Met's staff were very nice, and a few are alumni of my MA program. The silver curator caught me sneaking my one blurry salad photo,  but I don't think she thought I was too much of a weirdo. 

 

Day 3, Friday, Brooklyn Museum Cafe: Lemon tarragon chicken breast on arugula with tomatoes and manchego cheese. Tarragon was faint, but the grill marks tasted real. We sat on fun lime green chairs and learned about the museum's new extended evening hours. I also ate my last remaining sprinkle doughnut from Babycakes, a vegan gluten free bakery around the corner from the Tenement Museum. Both are awesome places to visit.

Day 4, Friday, the Appraisers Association of America: Grilled chicken, bell peppers, carrots, and tomatoes on romaine with balsamic vinaigrette. Not too exciting, but it still hit the spot. While we ate, three chatty, confident, successful New York women told us how the appraisal business works. Not unlike antiques dealers, they have customers as long as there are deaths, divorces, and debts.  

Day 5, Saturday, Cilantro restaurant on E. 71st: Tequila lime shrimp enchiladas with green chile sauce, rice and beans. Ok, I fell off the salad wagon. But watching that Sotheby's auction made me hungry!
This lunch was so good, and fortified me for two afternoon antique shows.