Church of Our Saviour
59 Park Avenue at East 38th Street
By the time of Cardinal Spellman, the ecclesiastical landscape of Manhattan was largely complete. The Cardinal has a well deserved reputation as a great builder – the Ramesses II of the New York Archdiocese. But in terms of new churches in Manhattan itself he was largely confined to various niches: a commuter church for Wall Street, shrines for the new saints connected with New York, churches related to institutions ( NYU, the United Nations) and, finally a couple of new parishes for developing well-to-do areas. The Church of Our Saviour falls into the last category. The parish was established only in 1955, the church itself finished in 1959.
The construction of this church occasioned some controversy at the time. For it was built not just to fill a utilitarian need but to create a new showpiece on Park Avenue. We heard that Archbishop Sheen was particularly incensed over the disproportionate cost of the construction of this church – he alleged that per pew seat it was the most expensive church in the archdiocese. And the results seemed hardly commensurate with the cost.
Those of us who have lived through the post-1960 course of Catholic Church architecture may find it hard to understand this disappointment. For Our Saviour’s, with its tower, gray stone facing and numerous carvings, makes a handsome but appropriately restrained impression on the corner of East 38th Street. The external appearance conceals the modest dimensions of the church. In common with many other Manhattan churches, a complex of parish hall, church and rectory has been squeezed into a very small plot. The style seems to be a variant of the modernized, vaguely Italian Romanesque that had become by the 1950’s dominant in Catholic church architecture.
Perhaps there lay the problem. There is nothing that bad about Our Saviour’s – it is a very handsome church – but little remarkable either. The Archdiocese was seeking to make a statement, yet the result of all its efforts was not that different from that obtained in many other more modest parishes. The contrast with the achievements of the not too distant past – like Blessed Sacrament or St. Vincent Ferrer – is all too glaring.
“Throne and Altar”: Cardinal Spellman’s assertive patriotism later became anathema to secular and ecclesiastical elites.
The interior is relatively simple: a rectangle with a shallow sanctuary. Yet above the sanctuary is an impressive triumphal arch. And the high, small windows, filled with stained glass, help to create a dark, prayerful atmosphere when the electric lights are out. There are good statues, paneling and metalwork that seem inspired by the decorative program of earlier churches like St. Vincent Ferrer – if executed with considerably less success. The intricate stone flooring is impressive – the high gilt cassette ceiling looks even better. Other elements, like the stained glass and the Stations of the Cross, do not rise anywhere near the same artistic level. Downstairs, the “undercroft” (which had served as the church while Our Saviour’s was under construction) is one of most splendid parish halls in New York City.
The Last Hurrah of the Spellman era – 20 years ago this would have been the epitaph for this parish. Just a few years after the completion of Our Saviour’s, Catholic sacred architecture in New York took a new and radical direction before entirely expiring. The parishes of New York either struggled grimly for survival or lapsed into a musty decadence. Yet under Our Saviour’s current pastor, the remarkable George Rutler, this parish has awakened from its somnolence and has achieved a citywide and even international presence.
We cannot detail here all the multitudinous activities of Our Saviour’s under Fr. Rutler in liturgy (including the sacrament of penance), preaching, music and a great variety of “special events.” Although this parish had not been associated with the Traditional Indult mass, it became a city leader in implementing Summorum Pontificum and encouraging the celebration of the Traditional Latin rite. But what most strikes the visitor to Our Saviour’s is the artistic renewal. Under Fr. Rutler’s direction a vast program of paintings in the Byzantine tradition has filled the sanctuary. These works are in remarkable harmony with the mysterious darkness of the church. A new tabernacle has been set up in the place of the old altar – as well as a crucifix and candlesticks on its Vatican II successor. And the pace of restoration is relentless. Upon every visit one encounters a new icon, statue or expanse of gilding. Last year, Our Saviour’s was the first in the city (the country?) to dedicate a shrine to blessed john Newman immediately after his beatification. While all this new art was in the process of creation, major repairs and rebuilding had to be carried out on the organ and the fabric of the church.
Three examples of renovation: the new tabernacle and altar furnishings; icons (by Ken Woo) and a statue of Bl. Kateri.
And the amazing thing is that this renovation is entirely consistent with and proceeds from Tradition. The Byzantine/Early Italian styles used in Our Saviour’s may be the only version of sacred art that still exists today. These styles also harmonize effectively with the architecture of this church. Perhaps the only recent example of successful Catholic sacred art in Manhattan, Our Saviour’s avoids both the amateurish classicism of St. Agnes and the incorrigible commitment to an outdated modernism of the Chapel of the Sacred Hearts. Judging from the large congregations (often standing room only) and their youthful average age, it seems that this parish has rediscovered a formula for success (indeed, the only real one). Going back before the artistically and spiritually ambiguous age of Spellman, this parish has returned to the roots of Tradition and has come up with something new. And in so doing, Our Saviour’s has found a way to connect with young Catholics adrift in the world capital of modernity.
Website: http://www.oursaviournyc.org/
The Newman shrine – compare and contrast the shrine to St. Elizabeth Seton in St. Patrick’s 0f 20 years ago…
The approaching end of an era: window of the original decoration commemorating John XXIII’s first “progressive ” encyclica.
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