St. Mary Magdalene Church

http://www.themadeleine.edu/church_new/welcome.html


This is another church with a nickname. In this case, it goes by the name of The Madeleine. Madeleine, my online sources tell me, means "woman from Magdala."

The first thing that struck me about the church is how nicely everyone was dressed. Many men had suits or sport coats and many women were wearing tasteful, dark dresses. The dress code in Catholic churches has become decidedly informal and in this respect the Madeleine is a throwback. Also, stuck between the Irvington, Alameda and Beaumont neighborhoods, this is not a poor parish.

The second thing I noticed was the large wooden carving and crucifix behind the alter. It is an impressive piece of work.

Having slept until almost 9:30 am I made it to the 11 am Mass. By all indications this is a lively, healthy parish, but the worshippers this morning were pretty scarce. The bulletin is thick as a small town telephone book and we had no less than three people address us at the end of Mass about their organizations. So, I am left thinking that because there is a school adjoining this church (The Madeleine School), many or most of the parishioners have children at the school and come to the 9:15 am Mass. In any case, there was plenty of pew space.

Father Mike Biewend, with his completely bald pate and energetic delivery, asked everyone to introduce themselves to their neighbors. I did so and was greeted by a blond woman about my age and a good looking family of three children all less than nine years. We shook hands and exchanged names. Later, before the kiss of peace, Father Mike asked us to bow or touch the shoulder of the other rather than shake hands so as to avoid spreading germs. (H1N1 precautions, you know.) Since we had already shaken hands at the beginning of Mass, I thought that train had left the station and even had the bad manners to say as much during the kiss of peace ceremony.

After meeting my neighbors, Father Mike asked who was a visitor, then he asked a little about the visitors. At my turn I mentioned that I was on my pilgrimage to visit all the Catholic churches in Portland and this was my fifth. He seemed a little worried he might get an unfavorable review and jokingly told the others to grab my camera.

Today was Priesthood Sunday, a new day in the Catholic calendar meant to recognize priests. For his homily, Father Mike gave us a "day in the life" vignette of his busy yesterday. He mentioned he started the day with a run at 4:30 am. What is it about these early risers that they always have to let you know just how early they rise? I am sadly deficient in this area and was not sure I enjoyed being reminded that I'd only been awake a bit more than an hour and that the day was almost half gone. Are there any famous and successful late risers in this world that aren't rock musicians? Please tell me that there are.

The best part of his Saturday was visiting an elderly woman with lung cancer and hearing that her first concern was her 21 year-old son not being alienated from his father, who had left them both when she was 59. It was a touching story. But I could not get past how busy his day was and how many things and people were pressing for his attention that day. Now I felt bad and selfish for how relatively empty my Saturdays (and even many workdays) are.

Afterward a couple of parishioners wished me well. One asked if her church was going to get a good grade or something like that. I assured her that my purpose was not to rank the churches but to simply experience and enjoy them. The other parishioner told me to come back if I got around to going to each church a second time.

St. Irene Byzantine Catholic Church

http://www.saintirene.org/

This is likely going to be the most different of the catholic churches I will visit during this process. It is not a Roman Catholic Church, it is a Byzantine one. Although I suppose in many ways it is similar to the Greek or Russian Orthodox churches, it is -- unlike the orthodox churches -- in communion with the Roman Church. That means its clerics answer to the Roman hierarchy at some point and they recognize the primacy of the Pope. It also means that as a Roman I can receive communion in a Byzantine church and a Byzantine can receive communion in a Roman church.

I arrived at the service at 10 am. It is relatively unattractive from the outside. The building was once a Roman church and dates to 1923. However, it was totally remodeled in 1958 and has cheap siding on its robin's egg blue exterior.

I went inside and was pleased that it is far more attractive inside. However, it was almost empty. The church seats about 250 and there were only about 20 people there. (After about 15 minutes the number of worshipers doubled to about 40.) The alter is screened off by see through fencing upon which are hung icons, written on wooden boards shaped like small surfboards. I took a liturgy book from the back of the church and I was glad I did. Using it I was able to follow along and participate in the service.

While the service is mostly in English, there were plenty of prayers and responses in a Slavic language I am told is called Old Church Slavonic. In fact, as best as I could tell, we sang the Our Father first in English and then a second time in a different melody in Old Church Slavonic. About half the parishioners looked as if they could speak a Slavic language and their pronunciation of Slavonic sounded good to me. I could not find any of the Slavonic parts written in the liturgy book, however.

Most of the service was sung rather than recited. Before the first reading began, a parishioner stood in the middle of the aisle facing the alter and chanted something in Old Church Slavonic for a minute or two. The first reading was done by another parishioner also standing in the middle of the aisle. Then the priest , who was visiting from Washington state, read the gospel.

The priest's sermon was about twice as long as I am used to in a Roman (Latin rite) church. It was interesting, however. It was about the tension between church and state, especially as to abortion and gay marriage. He mentioned how in Canada one can be accused of a hate crime for saying that homosexuality is wrong.

Following many unfamiliar prayers sung from the liturgy book, I decided to take communion. Before reaching the priest however, there was an icon of Mary (the Theotokos as they say in the eastern churches) that people venerated by kissing. I, not being fond of kissing icons (or crosses on Good Friday), failed to participate in that ritual. Not out of any theological reluctance -- it is just embarrassing for me to kiss inanimate objects. I quickly got enough embarrassment to last a week, however.

I watched closely as the others received communion. The priest was using tongs or a spoon to place the host in the mouth of the communicant. each communicant was lowering his or her head a little to make this easier. At one point the visiting priest stopped and brusquely admonished everyone not to kneel but to stand up and to not touch the spoon. When I got closer I saw that the host was in small cubes in a red liquid (consecrated wine) and I was unsure whether I was to take it on my tongue or mouth. I positioned my head at what I believe was the correct level and opened my mouth, leaving my tongue somewhere between forward and back. The priest told me to tilt my head back and the host fell from my mouth back into the chalice! Then, in a firmer and what was to me a harsh voice he again told me to tilt my head back. I tilted it back until I felt it was almost too far and feeling foolish and embarrassed I successfully received the wet host into my mouth this time. Filled with a sense of shame and embarrassment, I returned to my seat.

Afterwards, a parishioner invited me to join the others for coffee, but feeling like quite the outsider, I declined. If I had brought a friend perhaps it would have been fun. Another parishioner smiled warmly at me.

Overall, I found the parishioners friendly and welcoming. The service, being so different, would take some getting used to. It lasted about an hour and forty-five minutes. I would definitely go back.