Tuesday, June 7, 2011

You Can't Go Home Again

Whenever my mind starts to wander about the things I’ve done in the past, the places I’ve been, the things I’ve seen, or the best parts of my life up to this point, my mind will invariably take me back to my childhood when my family lived on Beck Drive in Central Gardens, just outside of Richmond, Virginia. To me, that was the best and happiest part of my childhood – not that the rest was bad, of course, it was all good – but to me, that was the best part of it all. And of that time period, the majority of the good memories I have all revolve around the church my family attended, St. Luke’s Episcopal Church on the corner of Cowardin Street and Bainbridge Avenue.

St. Luke’s was considered a “high” Episcopal church, meaning that the services were conducted with a great deal of pomp and ceremony second only to the Catholic church. At the main mass on Sundays the procession consisted of two torch bearers, the crucifer (the man carrying the brass crucifix), two more torch bearers, the thurifer (the man carrying the brass incense burner called a thurible that was suspended on three long brass chains), two acolytes known as #1 and #2, the Master of Ceremonies, and then the priest. Everyone in the procession except the priest were wearing heavy red gabardine cassocks topped with white linen carters, with the priest wearing about twice as much ceremonial robes. There were about 24 candles burning in the altar area of the church during high mass, more at Christmas time, and this was all being done in a church that was not air conditioned.

Yeah, it got hot – you better believe it got hot! More than one young acolyte passed out from the heat and the wine right after communion, let me tell you!

When you started out as an acolyte in the church you always started out as a torch bearer and worked your way up from there. My father was a deacon in the church as well as an acolyte, and I remember when I was finally old enough to serve in the mass with him. I think I was about eight or nine, something like that. I started out as a torch bearer, moving up to crucifer after a while where I found out just how heavy that 5 foot tall solid brass crucifix really was. Then I moved up to thurifer and learned how to manipulate the thurible on those long chains without dropping it or letting it bump into something or someone while swinging it when the procession was moving up the aisle to the alter. I also remember stressing out the first time I did that position, trying not to miss my cue after the sermon to re-enter the service. When the priest, Father Hendricks, would give his sermon the thurifer would leave the altar area through a side door and stay in the acolyte’s room where the robes and cassocks were kept, and it was his job to keep the incense burning while there. You also had to be on your toes and listen for your cue to re-enter the service; if you came in too early you looked like a fool and were sure to hear about it from Father Hendricks later, and if you missed your cue and came in late the same thing happened. But I didn’t miss the cue, I didn’t bump into anything or anyone with the thurible, and all was right with the world.

After doing the thurifer thing a few times I moved up to the #1 position. The #1 and #2 positions were the two acolytes who helped the priest in the consecration of the wafers and the wine used in communion by bringing them to him at the altar to be blessed. Additionally, the #1 position also had the task of ringing the three brass bells at specific times during the blessing of the wafers and the wine, something else that if you botched it up you were sure to hear about it later.

If all of this sounds like a lot to remember, lemme tell ya it was. That’s why every Saturday you’d have rehearsal at the chuch where you’d practice the mass to make sure you got it right. But it was a challenge, it was an honor, and it was fun. I enjoyed serving as an acolyte with my father more than anything else in that period of my life, and I remember him looking over at me during the service after I’d just finished my stint as #1 and giving me a slight smile and a nod. If I’d have felt any prouder my chest would have exploded right then and there.

The church was an old church, even in the 1960’s, and to this day I remember the layout. It had a big flight of concrete steps leading up to the main entrance foyer, and off to the right side of the foyer was the area were the prayer candles were. To the left was a stairwell that led down to the side door and then to the basement, and straight ahead and through the double doors was the church proper. The inside of the church looked fairly huge to an eight year old boy, with high ceilings, big columns on the ends of the rows of pews, big stained glass windows where the Stations of the Cross were located, all leading up to the altar area where the services were held. If you walked up the left side of the church and went through the swinging doors you went into the administrative area of the church, and if you walked up the right side of the church and went through those doors you were in the area where the acolyte’s room and the church library were. At the end of each of those hallways were stairs leading to the second floor of the church where the classrooms where Sunday school was taught.

As I said there was a basement, which you could get to by either the stairs on the left side of the foyer or by a door on the left side of the church. The basement was where coffee and donuts were served after the main mass on Sundays, and it also had a full kitchen and a stage. I remember being in several Christmas pageants on that stage with my sisters and a cousin or two, and I remember my first taste of the most vile liquid I'd ever had in my mouth at the tender age of 6 when I tried coffee for the first time in the basement after mass one Sunday. Also down on that level was Father Hendrick’s office and a study.

Father Hendricks had a Great Dane named Sally that used to wander the church with him, and she was a very gentle dog. I think the two things I’ll always remember about Father Hendricks are his pipe and Sally.

My family was very active in the church in those days, and we spent a lot of time there. I remember going to Stations of the Cross mass with my mother during Easter several times, and I also remember the collection boxes during Lent. After the services on Sunday we’d either go over to my grandfather’s house to visit my father’s parents – my mom’s folks lived in Florida – or we’d go over to my Aunt Helen’s house to visit her and my Uncle Mason. Helen was one of my father’s two older sisters, and she was my favorite aunt. Once my grandmother passed away and my grandfather moved in with Helen and Mason we’d go over there after mass to visit all of them.

Without a doubt, this was the best part of my childhood hands down.

I’m the kind of person who likes to go back to places I’ve been before and see how things have changed, sit back and look at something and do the old “remember when” kind of thing, and one of the things I’ve always wanted to do is go back to St. Luke’s Church and take a look around one more time. Yeah, I know they say you can never go home again, but I’m stubborn when it comes to things like that. My mom told me that she had heard that somewhere along the way Father Hendricks took a sabbatical and become a monk or something like that, leaving St. Luke’s to do so, and that at one point the church had ceased to be an Episcopal church and was being used as a daycare center or something like that. To me that’s a damned shame, because I loved that church just the way it was. Yeah, I know, things change and all that, but sometimes the change isn’t for the better.

So last night I got curious and decided to take a look via Google Maps and see just what had happened to my church, if anything. I called my mom and asked if she remembered the address of the church and she said that she didn’t remember the specific address but that it was located on Cowardin Street; when I asked her if she remembered the school across the street she said that she did. The school was Bainbridge Junior High School and she had attended school there for a year, so I did a quick Internet search for it and found it in the Richmond Public Schools information website. Once I got the address of the school I found it easily with Google Maps, and saw that the school was gone and a medical school was there now. Using the street level view I spun the view around to the church to take a look, and there it was. I was looking at the old St. Luke’s Episcopal Church building from the front, looking up the steps where my parents had come down in a shower of rice after being married there on June 26, 1950, the same steps that led up to the doors that opened into the church where I’d spent so many happy hours in my childhood.

Then I noticed the words in big, black, bold letters emblazoned right across the front of the church, and my jaw dropped.

MOHAMMED MOSQUE NO. 24.

Well, shit!

I guess you can’t go home again, huh?

Well, no matter. That doesn’t change what happened there when I was but a young boy, it doesn’t alter the pleasant and wonderful memories that I have of that time and place, and it certainly won’t stop me from smiling when I remember St. Luke’s, Father Hendricks, Sally, an incense-smoke filled cloak room with a thurible sitting on the table, and serving on the alter with my father.

I guess that’s the good thing about memories – no matter what, no one can take them away from you, ever.

And I can live with that.

IHC

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

I too was a long time St. Luke's member. I was astonished a few years ago (I no longer live in Richmond) to learn St. Luke's was no more...do you know what happened to it? Did the parish re-locate or just dissolve. I have wonderful memories from that time. Father Hendricks son Terry also became a priest.

Anonymous said...

St Luke's Episcoal Church moved to Goochland County fifteen or twenty years ago. Google St. Luke's, Manakin-Sabot, VA. Take a look at the photo gallery and you will recognize some of the furnishings from the Manchester location.

Before the mosque, I think the Bainbridge building functioned for a time as a Jehovah's Witness hall. The St. Luke's sign and mass schedule remained for a long time. Perhaps it was too difficult to move or change?

I was never a member, only an out of town visitor. I have never visited the new location.

Anonymous said...

There was one fixture in the church I'm surprised you did not mention. I can recall two very tall, but slender, modernistic statues carved from wood. Both statues as I recall were faceless and were orange/reddish. The bases were on wheels making them easy to move. Over the years I observed them in several places in the church.

I've read on the internet that the statues were carved by Marie Pietri, wife of the journalist James Kilpatrick, and were known as the Thacker Memorial Statues. Who was Thacker and why were the statues modern in form?

IHC said...

Sorry it took me so long to see the comments and reply, but I took a hiatus from my blog for a while and am now getting back into it.

From what I've been able to understand, when the Episcopal church changed the Book of Common Prayer in the '80s or '90s the diocese for Richmond and the congregation of St. Lukes had a disagreement which led to the church leaving the diocese. Since the diocese owned the building the congregation had to relocate, leaving the building behind.

As for the statues, I'm sorry but no, I don't remember them and don't know anything about them.

Anonymous said...

Thank's for answering. I visited when my travel brought me through Richmond on Sunday's. I mentioned the statues because they were of stark contrast to the stations of the cross, shrine, etc. and I wondered what the history was behind them.

Anonymous said...

One more thing. According to a recent newspaper article, the mosque moved to downtown Richmond. The Bainbridge & Cowardin building is now home to "Iglesia del Dios Vivo, Columna y Apoyo de la Verdad La Luz del Mundo." It's suppose to translate to "Church of the Living God, Column and Ground of the Truth, The Light of the World." I'm not sure if that's a deominational name or the name of the Richmond congregation. It's a Spanish/Latino congregation.

I visited a handful of times over a period of about twelve years. St Luke's was in decline at that time(80's to 90's). The first time I visited, there was one mass on Sunday, and probably 40-50 people in attendance. Breakfast followed this mass. I never attended but was invited each time if a parishioner got to me before I departed. The last visit, probably in the early 90's, about ten people in attendance. I recall the stain glass windows had been covered on the outside with metal mesh grills. I suppose to protect them from being broken by vandals. At one visit, I recall the organ was broken. The choir master played an old electronic organ in poor repair that took much skill and patience to play. At the last visit I recall the main organ was working but the choir had shrunk to one man. I also recall receiving a program that said the church was a mission at another visit. I suppose St. Luke's may have lost parish status for a short time. I really don't know. From what I saw, I know it must have taken a lot of ingenuity on the part of the congregation and priest to keep the church going during this time.

The high mass was/is uncommon in Virginia and when my travels brought me through Richmond on Sunday, I would visit. I never knew anyone or had a connection to the congregation. I heard about the church through someone not connected but was aware of their existance in Mancester.

IHC said...

The only mass they held at St Luke's when I was there was a high mass. St Luke's was considered a very "high" church, and they prided themselves on it.

I'm glad to see that the Muslims have moved out, but I'm sad to see that the building has fallen into disrepair. That was always a beautiful church, inside and out.

Astrogary said...

I have wonderful memories of going to St. Luke´s. Every spring our church in Portsmouth, Virginia would go to the annual Acolyte´s Festival and it was held at St. Luke´s. Our curate would be the one to take us. There was a lunch in the basement after and they always took a photo on the steps of all the acolytes from all the churches in the diocese. They always had a very special guest priest like the Bishop of Fon du Lac, or the rector of All Saint´s Margaret Street, London. The "sacred ministers", subdeacon, deacon and celebrant were usually from St. Paul´s Parish, Washington, D.C. When the changes came the diocese was not high enough for St. Luke´s to remain as it was.