Travel

On the Road: To stand and receive where JFK was laid

Steve · October 15, 2011 · 2 Comments

The next in an occasional series of travelogue/photo essays on seeing and experiencing intersections of faith, history and culture — on seeing new and old communities of faith.

On a recent trip to Washington, D.C., I attended morning mass at one of my favorite places, the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle, just a few blocks up from DuPont Circle where I was staying. Because I travel to D.C. a few times a year to attend meetings of higher education public affairs folks like me, and because DuPont Circle is “home territory” for many higher education organizations, I have come to know this area pretty well. And St. Matthew’s has become my parish home when I’m there.

To be honest, in a city filled with architectural gems, from the outside St. Matthew’s has little in its facade that would draw you inside. It lies just a block off busy Connecticut Avenue on Rhode Island, tucked back from the street in such a way that you might miss it if you didn’t look up. But inside, its collection of side chapels, statuary, and mosaics are inspiringly beautiful and prayerful. My favorite mosaic is that of a different gospel writer, St. Mark, elbow on knee and fist beneath his chin, urging us all to enter into conversation with him on the life and death of his friend. The shape of the interior (at least to my untrained eye) is more of a square than a rectangle, drawing all nearer to the altar. (In fact, it is in the shape of a Latin cross, 155 feet long by 136 feet wide). To see more of the Cathedral, visit its online tour. [Read more…] about On the Road: To stand and receive where JFK was laid

On the Road: A house built on solid rock

Steve · September 17, 2011 · 7 Comments

The next in an occasional series of travelogue/photo essays on seeing and experiencing intersections of faith, history and culture — on seeing new and old communities of faith.

butte — Outside Sedona. Photo by Steve Givens

Sue and I just returned from a week in Sedona, Arizona, celebrating our 31^st anniversary surrounded by some of God’s very best handiwork. Located in Arizona’s high desert country under the southwestern rim of the Colorado Plateau, Sedona is situated at the mouth of spectacular Oak Creek Canyon and surrounded by massive red-rock formations. It was a glorious week of rest and walking the area’s myriad hiking trails that drew us right up to the bases of the rock formations with names like Bell Rock, Courthouse Butte and Boynton Canyon.

But located between Sedona and the Village of Oak Creek is one of the region’s manmade (and woman-designed!) wonders: The Chapel of the Holy Cross. We had been through here once before when the kids were…well…kids. We had stopped at the chapel then, too, but this time we had more time to savor the beauty of the chapel and its setting, and even experience a beautifully simple Taize ecumenical prayer service.

Although operated by the Catholic Diocese of Phoenix and St. John Vianney Parish of Sedona (our parish home for the week), the church is open to all and is not an operating Catholic church. The story behind its design and creation is the story of one artist’s vision, a nagging dream and her desire to find the spirit of Christ in her art.

chapel1 — Chapel of the Holy Cross. Photo by Steve Givens

On the Road: Discovering Missouri’s 19th-century German communities of faith

Steve · August 13, 2011 · 11 Comments

This is the first in an occasional series of travelogue/photo essays on seeing and experiencing intersections of faith, history and culture — on seeing new and old communities of faith.

cover — "Lasset uns Beten!" 1908, photo by Steve Givens

On Friday, Sue and I drove around the Missouri River Valley of Central Missouri just east of our state capital of Jefferson City, an area settled and farmed largely by 19^th– and 20^th-century German immigrants. They were drawn to the area, in large part, by its fertile river valley and its similarities to their homeland, and the marks they left on the landscape are still present in the cleared and plowed fields, a few old stone buildings, and their churches — both Catholic and Protestant – whose spires spring up from the land as you approach any village or town on the narrow, winding roads. Always, there is a church steeple signaling the existence of a community.

We hit just a few towns on this short road trip. When I see the town of Frankenstein on the map, I know we have to go see it. Besides the intrigue of the name, I have been there before many years ago when I was a child, as friends of our family owned a “country place” not far away up Highway 100 in Osage County. There’s not much to see now in Frankenstein, if there ever was, but its Catholic Church – Our Lady, Help of Christians – is a