The Churches of San Francisco
One Man’s Odyssey through the Catholic (and Orthodox) Churches of God’s Favorite City
by Ikaros, The Angel who Crash-Landed
PART VII
Saint Boniface Church
133 Golden Gate Avenue, SF, CA 94102 (The Tenderloin)
Visited Sunday, 9 February, 2014 (Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time) 12:15 mass
ARCHITECTURE:
Germanic Neo-Romanesque?
Strengths: Triple-Tower Façade, Stained Glass, Murals, Sculptural Stations, Ad Orientum Layout
Weakness: Orangey Christmas Lights over the Side Altars: Really?
LITURGY:
Liturgical Style – Vibrant and Entertaining
Music – Jazzy Piano
Homily – Mixed (Powerful H4 message with an almost Game-Showy H2 delivery; see homily ratings below)
“The Pope Francis Show”
I intended to begin my spiritual sojourn into the Orthodox churches of San Francisco today (inspired by Fr. Alberto’s homily of January 18th at Sts. Peter and Paul) until I turned my groggy head toward the clock, heard the banging of our fourth consecutive day of heavy rain against the windows, and opted for a Plan B of something closer to home and later in the day. Is this becoming a pattern?
So I staggered out of bed an hour later as the sound of rain was fading to a light sprinkle, and decided that a visit to the nearby parish of the Franciscans in the crackhead-laden heart of the Tenderloin was a good choice for a rainy day. I think I can handle the odor on that block of Golden Gate Avenue after it’s spent four days in Mother Nature’s rinse cycle.
One finds St. Boniface Church directly across the street from St. Anthony’s dining room, where the homeless form a line around the block at lunch and dinner times to receive the gracious gift of a complete hot meal at the loving hands of the Franciscans. I wholeheartedly recommend making any donations possible to this priceless charity which nourishes more poor and homeless persons than any other kitchen in San Francisco.
St. Boniface strikes me as perhaps the only Catholic church in San Francisco which was deliberately placed sideways on its block (the main entrance through the tower opens into the middle of the nave) in order to preserve an age-old tradition of orienting the church with the altar to the east. Thus, the sun rises behind the altar to remind us of Christ’s rising from the tomb, utilizing nature to reinforce the story of Easter. Father was standing at the rear of the church, preparing for the processional, as I took my photos and took my seat. I had forgotten what hidden treasures of stained glass this church holds, along with its richly-painted walls and beautifully-carved hardwood confessionals (macintosh oak?).
The processional was joyful, contemporary, and electrified by the “Snazzy Broadway Jazz-hands” stylings of a very talented pianist. It started off on almost too entertaining a note, blurring the line between worship and theater, but toned itself down to something rather more prayerful for the remainder of Mass.
It was fitting to be in this, of all parishes, for the reading from the book of Isaiah where God exhorts us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and shelter the homeless, which is exactly what these Franciscans have been doing for generations. It forced me into a critical self-analysis of the pride and repulsion for the homeless which had kept me away from this parish, and so by the time Father started his homily, I was primed to listen and absorb.
Now guess how Father started his homily - with a discussion of the struggle between pride and humility, between righteousness and self-righteousness, between recognizing God’s gifts to us and taking credit for them ourselves - words I knew I needed to hear. He weaved in messages about taking this nourishment we receive in the sacraments into the world and fulfilling God’s work to help the needy, and the revitalization going on in the church under the leadership of Pope Francis, the turn toward becoming a poor church, of and for the poor.
His homily earned a roaring round of applause which I thought, in my judgmental self-righteousness, had crossed the line between worship and entertainment. But I had to say that, to prove the accuracy of Father’s assessment of me in his homily, didn’t I?
Mass went on flirting with the division between entertaining worship and prayerful show-business, which, although not my personal taste, was remarkable at least for the vibrant energy it imparted to the scanty rainy-day congregation. I left mass in a bewildered mix of critical self-reflection and the sinking suspicion that I just left a studio audience, and what that says about my arrogant self-righteousness was not lost on me, thanks to Father’s gripping message. I would recommend this parish to anyone seeking a revitalization of their spiritual life, and anyone in need of a sobering message in the spirit of St. Francis, and his namesake pontiff.
The "Superman Building" looms over St. Boney Face.
The "Superman Building": Boarded-Up Beauty
A favorite neighborhood haunt
Urban Oasis
The rain poured down again. And the ribs of my umbrella snapped off as I opened it, leaving me a wet sloppy mess with a busted brelly.
Congregational Congregation, dodging raindrops between the hallelujahs.
The Old Federal Building,
and the Whitcomb Hotel (lower left), which served as City Hall for 13 years after the Great Quake while the new City Hall was constructed.
They say the Whitcomb holds the last ballroom in San Francisco with original parquet floor intact.
Ordinarily, the restaurant flanking this lobby would have called irresistibly to me for a Sunday Brunch, but after hearing Father's homily resounding amid the poor and downtrodden of our city, I had a change of heart, stepped out into the deluge, and took a second look at the cheesy, almost scary-looking exterior of the dive across the street.
Tailgate to Sam's
The rain was coming down so hard that my camera couldn't find the distance to focus on.
Inside, this place was kind of chic (if they knew I was blogging they might have moved The Cone).
As it turns out, Sam’s Diner has a stylish theater-district-meets-brew-pub décor, great food, and reasonable prices. I enjoyed a brief chat with Alex, the manager who was serving me, and ended up discovering this new hang-out, to which I’ll be returning for a Sunday Brunch, or late night snack with my eye open to spotting cast members of whatever’s playing at the Orpheum.
My Souvenir Bulletin Pic
City Hall is never the same view twice. Here it is, lovely as ever, on this rainy day.
* * * * *
My “Hurricane-System” of Homily Ratings
H5: Transformative
I intended to begin my spiritual sojourn into the Orthodox churches of San Francisco today (inspired by Fr. Alberto’s homily of January 18th at Sts. Peter and Paul) until I turned my groggy head toward the clock, heard the banging of our fourth consecutive day of heavy rain against the windows, and opted for a Plan B of something closer to home and later in the day. Is this becoming a pattern?
So I staggered out of bed an hour later as the sound of rain was fading to a light sprinkle, and decided that a visit to the nearby parish of the Franciscans in the crackhead-laden heart of the Tenderloin was a good choice for a rainy day. I think I can handle the odor on that block of Golden Gate Avenue after it’s spent four days in Mother Nature’s rinse cycle.
One finds St. Boniface Church directly across the street from St. Anthony’s dining room, where the homeless form a line around the block at lunch and dinner times to receive the gracious gift of a complete hot meal at the loving hands of the Franciscans. I wholeheartedly recommend making any donations possible to this priceless charity which nourishes more poor and homeless persons than any other kitchen in San Francisco.
St. Boniface strikes me as perhaps the only Catholic church in San Francisco which was deliberately placed sideways on its block (the main entrance through the tower opens into the middle of the nave) in order to preserve an age-old tradition of orienting the church with the altar to the east. Thus, the sun rises behind the altar to remind us of Christ’s rising from the tomb, utilizing nature to reinforce the story of Easter. Father was standing at the rear of the church, preparing for the processional, as I took my photos and took my seat. I had forgotten what hidden treasures of stained glass this church holds, along with its richly-painted walls and beautifully-carved hardwood confessionals (macintosh oak?).
The processional was joyful, contemporary, and electrified by the “Snazzy Broadway Jazz-hands” stylings of a very talented pianist. It started off on almost too entertaining a note, blurring the line between worship and theater, but toned itself down to something rather more prayerful for the remainder of Mass.
| |
It was fitting to be in this, of all parishes, for the reading from the book of Isaiah where God exhorts us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and shelter the homeless, which is exactly what these Franciscans have been doing for generations. It forced me into a critical self-analysis of the pride and repulsion for the homeless which had kept me away from this parish, and so by the time Father started his homily, I was primed to listen and absorb.
Now guess how Father started his homily - with a discussion of the struggle between pride and humility, between righteousness and self-righteousness, between recognizing God’s gifts to us and taking credit for them ourselves - words I knew I needed to hear. He weaved in messages about taking this nourishment we receive in the sacraments into the world and fulfilling God’s work to help the needy, and the revitalization going on in the church under the leadership of Pope Francis, the turn toward becoming a poor church, of and for the poor.
His homily earned a roaring round of applause which I thought, in my judgmental self-righteousness, had crossed the line between worship and entertainment. But I had to say that, to prove the accuracy of Father’s assessment of me in his homily, didn’t I?
| | |
Mass went on flirting with the division between entertaining worship and prayerful show-business, which, although not my personal taste, was remarkable at least for the vibrant energy it imparted to the scanty rainy-day congregation. I left mass in a bewildered mix of critical self-reflection and the sinking suspicion that I just left a studio audience, and what that says about my arrogant self-righteousness was not lost on me, thanks to Father’s gripping message. I would recommend this parish to anyone seeking a revitalization of their spiritual life, and anyone in need of a sobering message in the spirit of St. Francis, and his namesake pontiff.
The "Superman Building" looms over St. Boney Face.
The "Superman Building": Boarded-Up Beauty
A favorite neighborhood haunt
Urban Oasis
The rain poured down again. And the ribs of my umbrella snapped off as I opened it, leaving me a wet sloppy mess with a busted brelly.
Congregational Congregation, dodging raindrops between the hallelujahs.
The Old Federal Building,
and the Whitcomb Hotel (lower left), which served as City Hall for 13 years after the Great Quake while the new City Hall was constructed.
They say the Whitcomb holds the last ballroom in San Francisco with original parquet floor intact.
|
Ordinarily, the restaurant flanking this lobby would have called irresistibly to me for a Sunday Brunch, but after hearing Father's homily resounding amid the poor and downtrodden of our city, I had a change of heart, stepped out into the deluge, and took a second look at the cheesy, almost scary-looking exterior of the dive across the street.
Tailgate to Sam's
The rain was coming down so hard that my camera couldn't find the distance to focus on.
Inside, this place was kind of chic (if they knew I was blogging they might have moved The Cone).
As it turns out, Sam’s Diner has a stylish theater-district-meets-brew-pub décor, great food, and reasonable prices. I enjoyed a brief chat with Alex, the manager who was serving me, and ended up discovering this new hang-out, to which I’ll be returning for a Sunday Brunch, or late night snack with my eye open to spotting cast members of whatever’s playing at the Orpheum.
My Souvenir Bulletin Pic
City Hall is never the same view twice. Here it is, lovely as ever, on this rainy day.
* * * * *
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 will we ever grow in faith if all we get is a spiritual pat on the back and a candy bar? Too often, these homilies blithely side-step any church teachings that confront us directly with that sobering message we all need to hear to overcome our pharisaical smugness. 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. If I think I have, I'll check with an authority first, then letcha know.
