Chapter 5:
Growing up in the plains of Kansas had its many highlights: Watching the sunrise on green cornfields in the morning summer breeze, pouring oneself out on the football field every Friday night in the fall, driving down back country dirt roads, taking in the night sky. It’s hard to imagine God didn’t have this corner of the world in mind when he lived and died.
The Benedictine monks who evangelized the area sure thought it worth Christ’s while. All throughout eastern Kansas, the Benedictines built churches in the French Neo- Gothic style with red brick. They founded a college in one town nearby where they still reside to this day. In my hometown, they built a parish for the farmers who settled the area. It sat right in the middle of a cornfield. The church was divided in two sides by two statues on the main wooden high altar; Saint Boniface on the left for all the German Catholics, and Saint Patrick on the right for the Irish. Often, in its early days, families of both nationalities only sat in pews on the side designated by the patron of their home country.
The church itself was named after the patron of the order which built it: St. Benedict’s. It has a high center steeple which towers over the surrounding farmland and a modest rose window. A choir loft, an altar rail, the high altar, and two side altars with statues of Mary and Joseph complete its décor.
Oftentimes, in the fall as a kid, families would go on a hayrack ride from one of the nearby farms in the area to the church for Mass. “Make sure you don’t fall off,” and, “if you do fall watch the tire;” were what many of the parents said to all the excited kids packed onto the hay bale filled trailer.
Onward we would go, hauled by a farmer’s old tractor through the countryside. In those moments, I couldn’t help but imagine the life of those late 19th century, early 20th century settlers who built the church. The journey it took them to get to Mass each week along unpaved roads and sometimes unsettling weather. Their life was simpler back then. Even simpler than life in small town Kansas now, and you could feel it still in the history of the church grounds.
A Bell’s Ascent
On one rare occasion, after Sunday class, our catechism teacher took all the kids up into the choir loft on a journey to the bell tower. This was every kid’s dream, to ascend the inside of the steeple up and up to the tallest place in the countryside. There was a hidden door behind the organ, and once you opened that door; you were amazed and astonished at what you saw next. When our teacher opened the door for us, I took a step inside the steeple and my stomach dropped. Inside was a complex array of wooden ladders, stairs, and walkways without guard rails leading up to the top. At the top was another ladder which led to a square wooden door on the ceiling of a concrete roof. This door led to the outside area of the bell tower. The concrete roof I saw within the tower, was actually a concrete floor to the outside bell chamber. The ascent was going to be more difficult and scarier than this kid had originally thought.
Together we climbed and together, we made it. Knees trembling, hearts racing; I still remember the fear I had as I reached for my brother’s hand to help me up onto the concrete platform of the bell tower through the square wooden door. I held my breath as I clutched for dear life and wiggled my way off the final ladder and through the door.
Once at the top, on the concrete platform, the sureness of my feet finally arrived. I was finally on solid ground and looking out from the bell tower made the journey all the worthwhile. There were arched open windows on every side covered with mesh to ensure no one would fall out. From the north point of view, we could see the roof of the church attached to the tower; from the south, the church parking lot and a nearby farmhouse; from the east, the town I grew up in only a few miles away; to the west, the elementary and middle school; and from all sides, the endless expanse of farmland which stretched the countryside. The ascent was difficult, but the final view was worth it . . . (To Be Continued)