Topics: A New Beginning for Venite Missa Est!: Start anew!...Saturday July 18th: Feast of St. Camillus de Lellis - 3rd class ...Venite Re-Run: Light Bulbs in St. Anthony’s Attic
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The Necessaries.
I am a member of the Latin Mass Community of St. Anthony Parish in Wichita, Ks. While this blog may at times comment on, or allude to, the community and parish, Venite Missa Est! is by no means, in any way an official voice of any particular parish or the Diocese of Wichita. Venite Missa Est! is strictly a private layman's endeavor.
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A New Beginning for Venite Missa Est!
With the establishment of the Wichita Latin Mass Community as a canonically recognized entity (not a parish) in the Diocese of Wichita (Deo Gratias!) complete with Council and official bulletin/newsletter/email I thought it best that Venite Missa Est! divorce itself from any perceived St. Anthony officiality. I quit blogging to put some space between the blog and the community lest anyone think we were connected.
This blog was originally intended to unite those of us who felt scattered around the diocese and who, perhaps, never met outside of mass on a social level. The original intent was to have everyone submit articles, pictures, prayers as a sort of communal digital gathering. It really never did work that way though many people did contribute.
Now that we are maturing and progressing as a community I wanted to continue, on my own, to be a solo voice for those who seek information on the liturgy, news, mass times, the calendar and perhaps some stories from readers, pictures. A new beginning! I have missed blogging and feel enough time has past to start anew. Feel free to contribute if you wish. This is a fun blog not to be taken seriously at all!
If you receive this blog as an email and don't want to receive further, email me at bumpy187@gmail.com and I will remove you or, there may be an unsubscribe link in the email.
Remember, this is my blog...not to be confused with any authority or official relationship.
God bless
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Saturday July 18th: Feast of St. Camillus de Lellis
American catholic.org
Humanly speaking, Camillus was not a likely candidate for sainthood. His mother died when he was a child, his father neglected him, and he grew up with an excessive love for gambling. At 17 he was afflicted with a disease of his leg that remained with him for life. In Rome, he entered the San Giacomo Hospital for Incurables as both patient and servant, but was dismissed for quarrelsomeness after nine months. He served in the Venetian army for three years.
Then in the winter of 1574, when he was 24, he gambled away everything he had–savings, weapons, literally down to his shirt. He accepted work at the Capuchin friary at Manfredonia, and was one day so moved by a sermon of the superior that he began a conversion that changed his whole life. He entered the Capuchin movitiate, but was dismissed because of the apparently incurable sore on his leg. After another stint of service at San Giacomo, he came back to the Capuchins, only to be dismissed again, for the same reason.
Again, back at San Giacomo, his dedication was rewarded by his being made superintendent. He devoted the rest of his life to the care of the sick, and has been named, along with St. John of God, patron of hospitals, nurses and the sick. With the advice of his friend St. Philip Neri, he studied for the priesthood and was ordained at the age of 34. Contrary to the advice of his friend, he left San Giacomo and founded a congregation of his own. As superior, he devoted much of his own time to the care of the sick.
Charity was his first concern, but the physical aspects of the hospital also received his diligent attention. He insisted on cleanliness and the technical competence of those who served the sick. The members of his community bound themselves to serve prisoners and persons infected by the plague as well as those dying in private homes. Some of his men were with troops fighting in Hungary and Croatia in 1595, forming the first recorded military field ambulance. In Naples, he and his men went onto the galleys that had plague and were not allowed to land. He discovered that there were people being buried alive, and ordered his brothers to continue the prayers for the dying 15 minutes after apparent death.
He himself suffered the disease of his leg through his life. In his last illness he left his own bed to see if other patients in the hospital needed help.
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Light Bulbs in St. Anthony’s Attic
This is a re-run from a 2009 Venite blog post
Peppered throughout life are those times when one realizes just how fragile human existence is. For me it was in the attic of St. Anthony Catholic church as I observed the Thompson brothers change the light bulbs in the ceiling above the sanctuary (most will remember the Thompson brothers as servers at Latin Mass).
Bob Wells, life long parishioner and sacristan asked that I go up with the brothers to learn how to change the bulbs. You see, there is no fancy pole with a grabber thing on the end, no safe enclosed lift to take us up…the bulbs have to be accessed from above and this is a little more complicated then one might imagine.
The journey to near certain death began intriguingly enough through the left side of the sacristy (NE corner of the church). There in the small room off of the altar is a small narrow staircase of old wood that abruptly turns as it goes upward. Once above you enter into a second story room, perhaps 13 by 10 feet with planked floors and dusty storage. But what’s this? There in the corner is a foreboding figure of darkness and gloom. It is what I can only describe as, The Ladder of Death! (or extreme hurt anyway).
This ladder is as old as the church. Now, I am prone to sensationalism, but I believe this ladder extends at least 25 feet upward into a square opening in the ceiling. It‘s rungs are (very) thin wooden dowels, my thought being that men in 1904 were smaller in stature all around. Its only anchor to anything resembling solid is at the top. It proves to be one of those special, fun ladders that bounce and shake precariously as you climb it…which normally I might find amusing, but the thought of a broken leg kind of put a knot in my gut. As I mutter something to this affect Mr. Wells chuckled and said “well it’s better than the original…which is to your left.” At this point, with white knuckles clinging and my stomach pressing through the rungs on the other side (imagine that), I glance over to notice boards nailed to the studs on the wall. Indeed, thank God for THIS ladder.
Once through the hole in the ceiling I find myself on a bit of flooring that I suppose can be described as a third (or fourth) story. It holds the AC units and duct work and forms a squarish U shape around the ceiling above the altar. In the middle of the U shape are the rafters, bare exposed under two feet of sprayed insulation. This is what kind of freaks me out…knowing that one misstep and I fall forty feet down onto the sanctuary floor. Ok, I will admit, that is a bit over the top…most likely I would catch myself in the rafters by my broken neck and swiveling cranium…so that is a small measure of comfort. There is a board laid across this vast sea of certain death (yes, I said a board …the kind you fall off of and meet your Maker...see picture) that inclines towards
the rafters of the church and the bell tower. This leads to a catwalk…or more accurately…more boards that extend all the way to the choir loft…I don’t imagine anyone of any sound mind or sense would attempt to use this as you would have to duck below other rafters as you walked. Again, below the insulation lie more rafters and plaster…so this is not a practical or safe walkway and was probably left by the original workman.
Going back to my original starting point are two big windows and a good view of the rear parking lot(look up from the rear parking lot and you can see into the attic). Without gratings on the windows this lends a certain vertig
o to the atmosphere. Between these windows are a small series of steps that hug the east wall…these lead to another catwalk that runs parallel above the aforementioned catwalk except this one has railings (see picture) and leads directly into the bell tower. It is much wider and safer, though one of the boys does comment “Oh, by the way…hold on at all times and trust nothing….!”
To change the lights is a two (or three) man operation. One man is on firm ground below to actually switch out the bulbs…that’s the safe part. The other guy(s) walk out onto the rafters of the ceiling, hidden in insulation, to access the “buckets” that the bulbs sit inside of. The Thompson brothers were absolutely fearless as they stepped onto the rafters, lean over and go straight to work.
Procedure:
- Grab the “bucket” securely (connected by a chain to heavy beams). The buckets are fastened to a cross board by a long bolt and wing nut. This is the apparatus that keeps it from falling though the ceiling.
- Unscrew the wing nut and hold the bucket tightly
- Remove the cross board.
- Very gently, commences to lower the bucket downward to the man waiting below, being very careful to not let the chain swing as this acts just like a saw in the fragile plaster ceiling.
- Man below changes bulb.
- Unit is pulled back up and secured.
- Mutter prayer of thanks for another chance at life.
Once the work was done we explored a bit. Here and there is graffiti from workmen gone passed…a date scrawled in paint from 1932, scribblings, and markings. Once on the catwalk you can see just how solid the building is with huge timbers and iron “hangers” down the middle (see picture). Off to the sides are mini catwalks that extend to the small roundish windows in the roof. You can see these from street level, though I cannot imagine what purpose the little windows serve, save the small amount of light they let in. These old catwalks, extending laterally over the pews below, look unsteady and I don’t imagine anyone has ventured out onto them in years (you can see these in the foreground in the picture above right).
Once down the catwalk you step up into the bell tower which is flooded in light. T
his is probably the most vulnerable part of the church as the pigeons can attest . There are multiple levels of the tower with another wobbly ladder that leads higher to the actual bell. I am too chicken to climb since I am worried about the small patches of dry rot in the floor (old water damage) but over all, as a testament to old school construction, the tower looks pretty good especially considering the fact that there is not a steel beam in the whole thing.
The Thompson brothers, or as I think of them: the Fearless Thompsons, clamber up and take
pictures of the bell (see…picture of the bell).
We make our way back across the catwalk and I clawed my way down the Ladder of Death to terra firma. The look on my face elicits a chuckle from Mr. Wells.
Hysterics aside I really was in no danger, though by cowering in the corner with my hands over my eyes I could have fooled most anyone. It was the idea that forty feet below me, hidden by a few inches of plaster and insulation, lay much pain should one fall through.
If you use common sense, as in any attic, there is no more danger than say, falling off a roof…wait a minute…I hate roofs!
