Last Sunday (October 7th), Melissa and I visited The Basilica of the National Shrine of Mary, Help of Christians, Holy Hill. Apparently this is a national pilgrimage sight and is considered very holy. It is one of the highest spots in Wisconsin and has a rich history that reaches back into the sixteen hundreds when Jesuit missionaries first came to this country. People go there for a variety of different reasons, though I thought it was interesting how many people had been healed there. One of the walls beside a small chapel had leaning up against it numerous crutches and even a blue leg cast that had apparently been cut off the person's leg while he or she was visiting the place. I was suprised by how many people were there. There were hundreds and hundreds of cars, along with multiple parking lots and people directing traffic telling us where to park.
Curiously the advertising did not clearly show that the site was Roman Catholic, though I immediately knew it was Roman, as I assume other do since it is a shrine of Mary. The advertising on the website was clear as were the listed times for mass, confession and a variety of other services.
The inside of the basilica was in excellent condition. I felt like I was in another world upon entering inside of what appeared from the outside to be a rough and dark and foreboding old building. The inside of the building appeared bright and massive with high arching ceilings that seemed to reach into the heavens. Light shone all around the artistically arranged lightly colored stone walls and beautifully painted windows. I felt as though I were being drawn toward the front of the building where the stone was arranged as if the paintings above the rerodos were bursting from the wall.
The characters leading the service were very sparse and consisted of a celebrant and someone I assume was a deacon since he carried the gospel book in the procession, though he was not dressed like a deacon. There was also an organist up on the balcony. The service was a weekly Eucharistic service (taking communion, for my more Protestant friends) which used a paperback missal and hymnal. The building was very full. There were probably about ten people or more per pew which would have totaled over a thousand people in the building attending the mass.
Welcome, was not a feeling that I would describe our experience. Melissa and I felt more like tourists which was fine since that’s what we expected at the shrine. No one greeted us on the way in, but when we slipped out while everyone else was going up for communion we received some very warm smiles and handshakes from some of the ushers as we headed out the door. The pre-service atmosphere was noisy: cell phones many people talking and people walking about the building to their seats. A few folks were kneeling to pray, though most were sitting and waiting or moving to their seats.
The service began when a very old man went to the lectern and said in a quiet, echoing voice that was very difficult to decipher, something about welcoming us to the Basilica, the intention of the Mass and a reminder to turn off our cell phones and the page number of the processional hymn. That is as close as I can come to exact wording. Due to the horrible sound quality and acoustics, the service was not easy to follow. I have, but a small amount of familiarity with the Roman Missal and was able to find a majority of the correct pages so that I could comfortably and securely follow the service, however this would have been very difficult for someone that was completely new to a Roman Catholic service. I would never even think about introducing someone to the historic liturgy of the church (such as a member of my very Evangelical family) at this service. After these initial announcements a hymn began and an old man wearing a light colored suit and a very small cross led the supposed deacon (same guy who had given the announcements, apparently had moved to the back of the room) who was wearing a black cassock and surplice and carrying the gospel high up in the air, followed by the celebrant who was wearing a green chasuble and wearing a headset type of microphone (the one that wraps around the ear and comes up along one’s cheek).
The greatest distraction at the church was the horrible sound quality both of the music, the readings and the homily. Interestingly, I was not distracted by the folks walking in and out of the side chapels during the service. The people movements off to the side seemed so tiny in comparison to the expanse of the building. The worship was muffled. During a majority of the service seemed as if everyone mumbled quietly through the service because they weren’t sure exactly what to say and did not know the hymns very well and so everyone was afraid to say anything with firm believe or confidence The only part of the service in which the congregation seemed some what assertive was in saying the Lord’s Prayer.
I assume that the service was about an hour and fifteen minutes or so. Melissa and I left just before everyone was about to go up for communion and by then the service had gone on for over forty-five minutes and I assume that it was going to take a while to communicate over a thousand people.
The sermon began fifteen minutes into the service and went for about half an hour. There were no announcements during the service and the peace lasted for but a few moments. On a scale of ten the preacher was somewhere between a five and six. During the beginning of the sermon he followed the lectionary reading from the Gospel and spoke about faith as Jesus had compared it to a mustard seed. Within the first fifteen minutes he had moved from the lectionary reading to speaking about the need for continual forgiveness. However for a majority of his sermon he spoke of the founding of our country on Christian principles and the sanctity of life as opposed to abortion. I found this very odd and was confused at the topical disparity. I am still confused as to how he managed to bring these completely different focuses together.
For me, the part of the service which was like being in another place was in the beginning before the service began, while I was taking in all of the beauty and wonderment of the heavenly space and exquisite artistry.
After the service we went to the gift shop and I bought Melissa a crucifix necklace for her birthday which is tomorrow (October 8th). I would not want to make this church my regular home. It was a fun place to visit. That is all.
As we drove away from the Basilica I wondered how anyone would be willing to give such a large amount of money to create such an incredibly beautiful building simply to have such awful performed services within it. The one think that I will think about all this week hence is why so many thousands of people would be drawn to a place with such poor churchmanship. Is it the holiness of the sight? The mystical nature of the place? The beauty of it all? The healings that have taken place there? The great connection with God that has been experienced by so many pilgrims at the sight? Some things to think about.
The service was led by a young lay member in his fifties and assisted by an organist. Attendance on that Sunday was twenty-one, however from what I understand there are normally less than twelve, the youngest of which is in his seventies.
After the service I walked around through the grass around behind the church to use the outhouse. The church has no indoor plumbing of which I am aware. It was a two-seater, which I thought interesting. Curious how our culture has changed over the years since this outhouse was first built.
