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Contents © 2006
by Jim Holman.
All rights reserved.

ROAMIN' CATHOLIC
July/August 2006

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SAINT DIDACUS, NORMAL HEIGHTS

Saint Didacus church, located at 4772 Felton Street in Normal Heights, is named for the patron saint of our city. Didacus was a lover of solitary life who became a Franciscan lay brother. Sent as a missionary to the Canary Islands in 1442, he expected to be martyred. He was made superior of a monastery, converted many pagans, and returned to Spain in 1449. He was sent to Rome in 1450 for the canonization of Saint Bernardine of Sienna. When an epidemic broke out among the gathered Franciscans, Didacus worked himself to exhaustion to help his brothers and miraculously cured many of the sick. He then returned to Spain and spent the rest of his life as a contemplative at Alcala, where he died on November 12, 1463. After death his body remained incorrupt and emitted a heavenly fragrance. Didacus was canonized in 1588 by Pope Sixtus V.

The parish was founded in 1926. There are currently 700 registered families.

This is one of the best-preserved older churches in the diocese. The marble altar rail still stands, clearly demarking the sanctuary from the nave. No musical instruments can be seen in the sanctuary. The golden tabernacle, flanked by six golden candlesticks, rests on the retable of the original white marble high altar, sheltered beneath a wrought-bronze canopy. The traditional crucifix hangs on the reredos against a gleaming cloud background, proclaiming the crucified Christ as the only way to heaven. A freestanding altar, of the same white marble, serves as the table of sacrifice. On the sanctuary walls facing the nave hang images of the Mother of God -- Guadalupe on the left and Perpetual Help on the right -- suggesting that she is the one who gives us access to Christ, her son.

I attended the vigil Mass on Saturday, June 10, the Solemnity of the Holy Trinity. Saint Didacus' pastor, Father Michael Sinor, celebrated. Music was provided by a pianist and three singers, one of whom played Khartal bells and Conga drums. Father Michael was joined at communion time by three women Eucharistic ministers.

A young lady in an alb led the way in the procession to the altar, carrying the cross. The crucifetrix was followed by a young woman in Capri pants, a low-cut top, and high-heeled sandals. She carried the gospel book high overhead. Father Michael followed in a chasuble of beige and gold.

As they processed we sang a hymn by Christopher Wordsworth (1807-85), sung to Beethoven's Ode to Joy: Alleluia, Alleluia, Hearts to heaven and voices raise; Sing to God a hymn of gladness, Sing to God a hymn of praise; He who on the cross a Victim, For the world's salvation bled, Jesus Christ the King of Glory, now is risen from the dead. This Resurrectional hymn, with its trinitarian doxology in the final stanza, was doubly appropriate to the day.

After a responsive, Trinitarian Kyrie, the choral group led us in the Gloria from David Haas' Mass of Light. Hearing what sounded like a tambourine, I turned to look into the choir loft, and saw the woman who shook the Khartal bells swaying to the upbeat tune.

During the homily, Father Michael moved about freely in the chancel and nave, holding a sermon notebook in one hand. He began by relating a visit he had recently with the eighth grade students at Saint Didacus School. "These are really bright kids," he remarked. "When I was in eighth grade, I was mainly concerned with keeping my socks up." Everyone laughed. "But these kids were asking intelligent and serious questions about their faith and life."

Father Michael also shared a portion from an eighth grade student's journal about an experience she had at Mass. "For the first time," the girl wrote, "I felt that Jesus and I were only one soul."

He continued: "Yet for all we can know, God's ways remain a mystery." He illustrated this with the story of a family whose one-year-old daughter has an incurable illness, and another parishioner who just died at eighty-two. "Why? We cannot know. It is a call to trust."

The greatest mystery, said Father, is God himself. The Fathers of the Council of Constantinople hammered out the Creed, yet it is only a signpost to the mystery of the Trinity; thus call the Creed the Symbol of Faith. We need symbols to grasp this truth; that's why Saint Patrick used a shamrock. We believe that there are three Persons in one God. But the task of theology, as defined by Saint Anselm in the Eleventh Century, is "faith seeking to understand." In this connection he asked, "When was the last time you sought to understand your faith better by reading a spiritual book?"

The best understanding of the Trinity, he said, has been of the three persons as a communion of love. This can be grasped even by the young in their spiritual experience. He concluded with an appeal to enter the experience of the love of father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and let this love flow out to others.

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