Notre Dame des Victoires, San Francisco

The Churches of San Francisco

One Man’s Odyssey through the Catholic Churches of God’s Favorite City

by Ikaros, The Angel who Crash-Landed

PART I

Notre Dame des Victoires

566 Bush Street (across from the Stockton Street Garage)

Visited 31 Dec, 2013 (Vigil of the Feast of the Mother of God)

BUILDING:

Byzantine Romanesque

Strong Point – Everything (especially the stained glass windows from the Franz Mayer Studios of Munich)

Weak Point – None. (or, on second thought, were I forced to pick something, how about that 70’s-Felt-Banner-style-Glass-Dove?)

MASS:

Liturgical Style - Reverent Simplicity

Music – (Don’t Recall)

Homily – (Don’t Recall)

"An Odyssey Begins"

About a year ago, I had stumbled across a blogsite devoted to visiting and rating every Catholic church in Manhattan.  Compiled by an anonymous blogger under the Nom de Plume (“Nom de Pixel”?) of Andrew the Sinner, this blog invited me along on its journey through the Soul of New York, and perhaps unwittingly, into the Soul of the blogger.  It touched me, moved me, made me cry (backstory: I cry a lot), and eventually led me to one of AtS’s travelling blogs recording his visit to Mission Dolores, here in San Francisco.  Instantly, upon reading this post from a distant New Yorker in my home town, I decided it was time for me to blog the churches in San Francisco.  Here begins my own journey into the soul of my City, and welcome to all who care to join me on this pilgrimage of faith.  And thanks to you, Andrew the Sinner, for your far-reaching inspiration. 

I wasn’t planning to begin my blog this evening, showing up with neither camera nor pen nor paper to record my visit.  But I will relay what I remember, and post this blog as soon as I take some accompanying photos.

 If only photographs could do justice to this gbeautiful little churchlette in the heart of downtown

A Little History:

The Church of Notre Dame des Victoires is named for Our Lady of Victory, and was founded in the neighborhood occupied by French argonauts in 1856, which is to say 10 years after John B. Montgomery raised the American flag over Portsmouth Plaza to claim the sleepy Spanish port of Yerba Buena for the United States, or 9 years after the newly-appointed alcalde of Yerba Buena had renamed the town San Francisco (after our still-standing mission), or 8 years after the discovery of gold near Sacramento, which had placed our drowsy little town on the world map, or 7 years after our first parish church had been founded for the worship of gold miners, or a mere 2 years after the founding of our first cathedral church (apparently, a little gold can make a diocese out of trading post within 6 years).  So Notre Dame des Victoires, the French National Parish in San Francisco, can claim some of the oldest roots in our magnificent historic town, and to this day, over a century since “French Hill” has been absorbed into the greater downtown and Union Square areas of San Francisco, it is overseen by French-speaking clergy who serve today’s scant community of francophone immigrants in the Archdiocese of San Francisco.

Church:

This little jewel can only be described in pictures, or better yet, in person.  Its romanticized blend of Moorish, Romanesque, and Beaux Arts is harmonious and seamlessly combined.  The mosaic-encircled niche holding Our Lady of Victory hints at the Art Deco style lurking just beyond the horizon of its construction date, and the altar of Ste. Therese de Lisieux (today hiding beneath a beautifully-created nativity scene) reminds me of my first visit to this church, years ago and in a deep, black world-hating funk, when the sight of her entombed statue caught me off-guard, like the huntsman in Snow White, whose angry heart was suddenly melted upon sight of the sweet, gentle princess at whom his bloodthirsty knife was taking aim.  This recumbent statue in this lovely church had sprouted new leaved on a petrified heart. I will return to this church on the feast of Ste. Therese, if possible, to post a photograph of the recumbent saint whose inspiration of faith may be my soul’s last hope for salvation.

Homily:

I don’t recall our Good Father’s exact message, and as unaccustomed as I am to the French accent, I’ll admit that my struggling mind was more wandering than focused.  But I seem to recall a thoughtful priest speaking intently to sanctify the souls of a small congregation which seemed more concerned with fulfilling an obligation than being sanctified:  A typical holy man speaking to a typical inner-city crowd, perhaps?

 The signature feature of Franz Mayer's stained glass is the starred or beaded halos of the saints.

Our Lady of Victory had to be photographed from an askew angle, as the seasonal Christmas Tree blocked me from photographing this lovely statue of our Mother from a head-on angle.  To the side, an angelic recumbant statue of Ste. Therese was hidden beneath the nativity.

How did THIS artless piece of 1970's felt-banner design make its way into this otherwise heavenly little gem of a church?

Tailgate:

On the way home, I sauntered passed this neighborhood monument to drunkenness, perched atop the Stockton Street Tunnel across the street from Notre Dame des Victoires.

 Every now and then, you happen across a passing Cable Car, filled with tourists who have made a long journey to experience this amazing city which I am proud to call my birthplace.  The sad thing is that few will ever discover the infinite hidden secrets of this intricately-woven tapestry of San Francisco.

 The "Jeanne D'Arc" is one of the few surviving reminders of French Hill's ethnic origins.

 The "Key Club", according to the eroded remnants of its humble self-tribute, was "The Crossroads of the World".  Today it's the artfully-faded marquee of a show that has long-since played to its last audience.

 Downtown is veritably littered with gracious entryways like these.  I never tire of walking through town.  How sad that most locals whiz by in a car or bus and never get to appreciate the glory of this inexplicably beautiful small-town big-city metropolis of San Francisco.

The lobby of 450 Sutter is one of the most emphatic tributes to Hollywood Deco in all of San Francisco.  The rest of the office building ain't bad either.

 Almost 50 years since I was born here, and this inexplicable matrix of Manhattan, Disneyland Main Street, and topographical Urban Himalaya never fails to impress and amaze me.

The Starlight Room atop the Sir Francis Drake Hotel

The Academy O Fart

 Everywhere you look, there's another gracious entrance to a hotel, apartment building or restaurant.

 Not a lot of brickwork in this city.  This example (at the entrance of Cosmo Place) stands out.

...and the rest of the sign says: "at risk of death".

 Ahhhh, so many memories!  Fine wine and antipasto trays in this hidden cellar would make life worthwhile even in Greenland.  But this is San Francisco...will God's blessings never cease?

 One of the best meals of my life took place here, with a dearest and most beloved sister and friend.

 ...and the same is true for this place: the dinner table that preceded our tickets to "Wicked".  Ahhhhh, great memories, indeed!
This is the location of the original Trader Vic's, inventor of the Mai Tai.

 The City never stops wooing me with its beauty.  Here is yet another gracious entryway on the flank of Nob Hill.

 Just when you think you've seen it all, San Francisco goes all Moroccan on you for no apparent reason on this stretch of Geary Street.

 The Alcazar meets Venice in a discrete penthouse rendezvous, here in San Francisco, of all places.  I bet the children were gorgeous!

 This neighborhood mural has such deep and soulful eyes...she is becoming my inner-city muse.

 Welcome to January in San Francisco.  The local convenience store put these orchids outside to enjoy the light and fresh summer breezes of January.  If only summer were this pleasant!

And finally I am home.  City Hall sports a dome slightly higher than that of the nation's capitol, and significantly more emphatic in beauty.  I thought this monument, in whose shadow I reside, would make a nice closing image to my posts of each parish I visit.  Here we see City Hall decked out in the Phalaenopsis blooms of the weekly Sunday Market.

It was New Year’s Eve. Opting against an “Amateur Night” of barhopping, I stayed home, all too anxious to open a bottle of something innately less sacramental than what I had just sipped from the Communion Cup.  I practiced my diving (to the bottom of the bottle I had just opened), and finally was wishing a dear friend the best of the New Year, when I heard the midnight fireworks resound.  I stubbed my toe while hanging up the phone on my way to bed, and am wondering now if it’s broken.

I decided to use a photo of the bulletin as a record of the place and time of my visit.  This tradition will become my "Dexter's Blood Slide" souvenir from each parish I visit on this personal and quirky journey of faith.

*   *   *   *   *

My “Hurricane-System” of Homily Ratings H5: Transformative The priest said or demonstrated something which altered my perspective so profoundly that I leave the church a different person than when I entered, and remain so.  The priest has not only challenged me toward growth but provided me with the tools or information I needed to accomplish and sustain that growth.  I have heard just a few such homilies in my life, so don’t be surprised if there aren’t (m)any times you see this rating come up. H4: Challenging The priest has made it clear that we are not complacently at the end of our journey, but in need of Christ to bring us closer to where He is calling us.  I feel challenged and encouraged to move beyond where I am now. H3: Inspiring This is a category of many beautiful and moving homilies, in which the priest has painted with words an image of spiritual fulfillment toward which we are all striving, but not necessarily mapped out the process for me to get there. H2: Feel-Goodie Everybody wants a homily that makes us leave Mass feeling good about who we are, but we’ll never grow in faith if all we get is a spiritual pat on the back and a candy bar.  Typically, these homilies ignore our church teachings by blithely side-stepping them, rather than outwardly contradicting them. Happily, I have heard very few homilies of this nature in the city of San Francisco.  H1: Negative The only thing worse than a priest making me feel good about being the unrepentant sinner that I am is a priest who makes me feel bad about it.  Gladly, I have heard so little fire-and-brimstone negativity in my lifelong practice of Catholicism that I can honestly expect not to use this rating at all. H0: Heretical Let’s hope that this is another category I can safely expect not to use.  I have, in my travels, heard views from the pulpits of Catholic churches which contradict Catholic teaching, but I don’t expect to happen across any contrary teaching here in my City and County.