83. Church of the Resurrection (Now Church of St. Charles Borromeo & Chapel of the Resurrection)

NOTE: In 2015 this church merged with the church of St. Charles Borromeo as part of the Archdiocese of New York's great closings & mergers of 2015 and only its chapel now remains open. Both places of worship continue to be open for regular Masses and other events. This new combined parish is called the Church of St. Charles Borromeo & Chapel of the Resurrection.

(mass times & church info last updated 03/31/2016)
Address: 276 W. 151st St. (@ 7th Ave.)
Phone: 212.281.2100
Weekend Mass Times: 
Sun: 10am (English), 12pm (Spanish)
Weekday Mass Times: 
Thursdays: 7pm (Spanish)
Church Constructed: 1907
Links:
Official Website
About the Organ


FOURTH WEEK OF ADVENT

"The Church of the Resurrection was founded in 1907 to serve Catholic residents of Central Harlem, which at that time was predominantly white. A modeset building containing the church, school and rectory was built the next year, opening in 1908. By the 1930s, the demographics of Harlem evolved to include many hispanic and black residents, but it was not until the 1970s that the Rev. Lawrence E. Lucas was named as the first African-American pastor of the church (and one of the first in Harlem). In 2007, this parish was scheduled to be consolidated with the Church of St. Charles Borromeo." (from NYC Ago's website)

Journeying to these churches each week is often a struggle, and there is always doubt in my mind. Entering new places can be for me intimidating, (though exhilarating,) and sometimes along the way I wonder whether if it would be better that day should I just head back home to grab some more (much needed) sleep, or meet up with friends, catch a movie instead... Usually I end up going and I am always grateful I have.

Snow covered the city this morning. En route to the church I stopped by a friend's apartment and forced him to come with. We trudged through the snow and sludge - it was cold - heading southeast toward the Church of the Resurrection. Uptown turns slightly confusing sauntering eastward so we found ourselves delayed. Eventually we arrived.

This is the last uptown church on my list and most likely the last black Catholic church I have to visit. It was strange - I expected more congregation in attendance, but perhaps the snow kept the parishioners away. There were about 20 of us total in the pews, as well as a lively choir - VERY lively considering the frigid temperatures outside. Attending the gospel churches, I realize there is no way to leave here without a smile on my face and warmth deep in my soul - there is so much energy and faith!

62. St. Lucy (CLOSED)

NOTE: In 2015 this church closed down and was merged into St. Ann Church as part of the Archdiocese of New York's great closings & mergers of 2015. Only St. Ann's will remain open for regular Masses and other events. This combined parish is called St. Ann-St. Lucy Church.

(church info last updated 03/30/2016)
Address: 344 E. 104th St. (between 1st & 2nd)
Links:
About St. Lucy

Attending the Mass today with a nearly dead camera battery - got the pics I could before it stopped working - hope these will do.

A few things struck me and stuck with me about Mass today - first off: St. Lucy's eyes. The saint is always shown in art holding a pair of eyes, her eyes. She was martyred and it's said (in some retellings) that her murderers gouged out her eyes before killing her. Thus, she is the patron saint of the blind.

It was First Communion Mass at St. Lucy's today, so I witnessed maybe 15-20 young kids in their suits and dresses receive the Sacrament for the first time - it was cute. Something about it made me all emotional today. The kids happy to be receiving Communion for the first time; the pride in their parents' eyes; the children handing their mothers roses at the end of Mass to commemorate Mother's Day: it was all very sweet.

The hymns sung at today's Mass were all sentimental to me as they were throwbacks to the songs I grew up with (and probably you did too:) "Here I am, Lord", "One Bread, One Body", and "I am the Bread of Life." The last one really got me today, and any of the emotions I was having came on all the stronger during that song. I remember this hymn at my grandfather's funeral when I was seven years old - the only time I've ever seen my father cry. It just gets me, you know? And my mind turns to my own parents and how they are getting on in years (not anywhere near decrepit or anything like that, but still slowing down,) and I think about what will happen one day in the future and I can't stand to even consider it.

But that is all to come some day down the road. For now there are other things. My girlfriend and I are on the brink of certain ruin. The girls of my past have looked at me in ways I couldn't handle and so told them not too, but I could never convince them that I wasn't the man they considered me to be. And now that I've found one who's seen right through me, and still wants to be with me, I know it isn't, in the end, going to turn out okay after all. There's a rift between us, something that's not all right. She knows my failings, and though she accepts them, I can see that a part of her mind (or maybe it's her heart) never will. The subsequent unspoken psychological effects seep down good and deep and seethe there, beneath the surface of us both, until we grow apart, drastically, all the while sitting at her kitchen table, facing one another.

34. St. Elizabeth

(mass times & church info last updated 04/04/2016)
Address: 268 Wadsworth Ave. (@ 187th St.)
Phone: 212.568.8803
Weekend Mass Times: 
Sat: 5pm (English), 7:30pm (Spanish)
Sun: 8am (Spanish), 9:30am (English), 11am (Spanish), 12:45pm (English)
Weekday Mass Times: 
Mon-Fri: 9am (English), 12pm (Spanish), 7:30pm (Spanish)
Saturday: 9am (Bilingual Spanish/English)
Confession:
Sat: 3:45pm-4:45pm, 6:45pm-7:15pm
Links:
Official Website
About the Organ
About the School
About St. Elizabeth

I am living a lie.

Before that, my experience at St. Elizabeth's this week:

There are so many great big big churches located uptown. In a way, they are all similar - all seem to have had their heyday a while back, they are massive and are now largely vacant and rundown - at least many of the English services - I can't safely say this is true for the various other language masses offered. I guess I could group them all together like that - but I have to realize that it is amazing they are all there at all. Each with an exterior gorgeousness and a truly beautiful inner soul. And some devout faithful gathering there each week and some everyday to receive the sacraments - that too is beautiful. I may concentrate on these uptown churches for awhile to see what I can come up with there - to see if what I am looking for is concealed somewhere in the cavernous space of these upper Manhattan spiritual treasure coves.

Then there is me and my lie...

My lie is my conceit.
If ever I had cause to think that I was so much more than what I am; and prideful enough to consider myself above others and better than some places and certain lifestyles; or arrogant so much to think myself perfect in ways big and small (the smallest of these instances being much too big,) regarding all my undertakings beyond scrutiny - then I was wrong in the deepest most sincerest way one can be wrong. Wrong without barriers or guidelines. Wrong without constraint.

My lie is my city.
What is this place? The epitome of the modern age and modern America? It's a money pit consumed with itself and everyone coming in (just as the immigrants of yesterday) falls into line quickly enough with it's consumption and their self-consumption. We are full of ourselves as we make fools of ourselves.

My lie is my vices.
I drink because I want to see something more beautiful than what is. And when the drunk is past, and the hangover comes full throttle, or even in the midst of the night before's chaotic celebratory rhetoric - I can still somehow see that I've missed it. Done it all wrong. That there is more to it and I somehow just misstep. Always there is wonderful (disastrous!) escape calling out to me.

My actions towards girls have not always been so favorable either - and I have been wrong each time I've entered into relationships with such sweet beings and held such dark misgivings and harbored such infidelities in the back recesses of my mind or followed through with such immoral actions.

And I have to attempt to morally straighten myself out and pray to God for assistance.

But I wonder sometimes can God too be a vice if taken the wrong way?

My lie is my search.
Where have I been going and what have I been doing? I am lost at a crossroads and no longer know the right path nor remember from which I came. I'm atop a bridge, stuck in the middle, and the decision if I should venture onward or decide to head back escapes me. I am looking under rocks for profundity that can only begin to fit within the depths of the seas or the infinity of the skies.

My lie is my demons.
They prey on me and I know not if they are even there. I am mocked and pitied. Inside of me I see them the next room over and I cannot join them and this too I know not why. I cannot escape them as I cannot escape myself - and this too is my lie.

I am an indigent glutton; a dessicated drunk; a heedless seer.

"...they take and that they take in turn and they give you nothing real for yourself in return and when they've used you and they've broken you and wasted all your money and cast your shell aside and when they've bought you and they've sold you and they've billed you for the pleasure...some people have got no pride they do not understand the Urgency of life..."

-Morrisey