The Churches of New York V: Yorkville Jewel

St. Elizabeth of Hungary, 211  East 83rd Street

The block of East 83rd Street, between 2nd and 3rd Avenues, transports the visitor to an earlier age of the Manhattan neighborhood known as Yorkville.   The streetscape consists of  townhouses, low-rise apartments and old storefronts – hardly anything dating later than the 1950’s.  The Church of St Elizabeth of Hungary fits very well into such a modest environment. Like several other splendid New York churches (Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral; St. James), St. Elizabeth’s does not stand alone but is the focal point of an intact ensemble or streetscape that somehow has survived the chaos of the city’s development. This area, now as expensive and culturally uniform as anywhere else in Manhattan, was once defined by a middle- and working class Central European  population: Germans, Czechs, Hungarians, Slovaks.  Nothing remains of this heritage execpt a handful of  restaurants, travel agencies and food stores – and the former inhabitants’ churches.

St. Elizabeth started as a Slovak parish but the present building was not its original home – it was erected as the Second Emmanuel Lutheran Church in 1892. (1)  The parish of St. Elizabeth acquired the  structure in 1917 and extensively renovated it as a Catholic church. (Several other fine Catholic churches originally were built for Protestant congregations: Immaculate Conception, St. Thomas More). The Slovak presence remained until the early 1980’s – I met the last pastor of Slovak nationality. In those days old timers still could recall stories of the past: like how St. Elizabeth’s came in handy for one Irish family for a requiem mass that could not be held in their own nearby parish, St. Ignatius, because of a dispute with the Jesuits. That was an age when the Catholic was defined by his parish.

Since then, all memory of the Slovak past has been lost – a member of the parish who showed me around a few years ago wondered aloud whatever could be the language on the windows and the stations of the cross….Polish, perhaps?  The parish, however, has survived and also has served as the New York center for ministry to the deaf. According to the parish website,  Cardinal O’Connor came here often to celebrate mass; he too seems to have succumbed to the charm of this church. For although there are many grander edifices,  I doubt anyone would dispute that St.  Elizabeth is one of the 4 or 5 or so most beautiful Catholic churches in New York City.

The exterior is handsome – it is unmistakably a “House of God”, larger and more elaborate than its neighbors yet complementing, not overwhelming them, thanks to its modest scale and the warm colors of its brick facade.  It features a tower deliberately patterned on Bohemian prototypes – a memory of the “old country” in the New World. Inside, the visitor must walk up a flight of steps to get to the church on the second floor.  The interior  is a squarish space, hardly more than a chapel. The sanctuary is differentiated from the rest of the interior mainly by an intact communion rail. Indeed,  this church is miraculously well preserved. Perhaps there were more statues 30 years ago – I seem to recall Mother Seton –  and the altar has been severed from the reredos for the “OF” liturgy; otherwise, all remains as it was. With its stone walls, elaborately vaulted ceiling and lifsize plaster statues, St. Elizabeth’s recreates the atmosphere of a European Gothic church with baroque decorative accretions.

But one must come during the weekday to experience what uniquely defines St. Elizabeth’s. After the liturgies, when the lights are dimmed and the congregation disperses, the church takes on a dark, mysterious character. Absolute silence reigns, except for the crackling now and then of flames in the many (real) votive lamps. At such times a mystic atmosphere of contemplation arises otherwise only encountered in certain ancient churches and chapels in Europe. There is nothing like it elsewhere in New York except, maybe, for St. Vincent Ferrer. The contrast with the cacophony, commotion and brilliant lighting of St. Patrick’s could not be greater. Truly St. Elizabeth’s is a house of prayer! The visiting New Yorker emerges, dazzled by the daylight and suddenly stunned by the raucous sounds of the city – a din he has perhaps not noticed for years. For  St. Elizabeth’s, the quintessential New York parish, has given him an opportunity to once more make contact with his God.

The sanctuary of St. Elizabeth is fine but perhaps is the only mildly disappointing part of this church; it looks like a creation of the early “liturgical movement” around 1940.

Another view of the church at Christmas.

The images are magnificent.

Very few older New York parishes lack a Lourdes Grotto; in this confined space the candles are electric.

One of the original donors- in Slovak.

The stained glass is among the finest of any Catholic church in New York City

(1) David W. Dunlop, From Abyssinian to Zion: A Guide to Manhattan’s Houses of Worship at 201 (Columbia University Press, New York , 2004). The parish was founded in 1891 and its original church still stands downtown (it is now Orthodox).