The Holy Cross Church

The Holy Cross Church with its neo-Gothic facade was too beauteous and too rare, so clustered among the aristocratic neat palaces, choked by the shadows of less ancient buildings; I often looked up to glance at its tall bell-tower with a chill in my curly hair! When I was the altar boy, I had to climb a thousand steep steps to pull the rough cord and make that brass bell merrily ring, and it relentlessly tolled far into the fertile valley kissed by spring, and its resonant strokes summoned all to Vespers at six!! By all means I should have wisely chosen the priesthood... wine and bread I placed on a silver plate to be offered before the altar, where the invisible eye of God watched me; I worshiped Him and He blessed me for my sincerity! The Holy Cross Church still stands there and its steps invoke my footsteps, the gentle footsteps of a fine boy who turned his faith into a fervent creed; and even if sunshine never hit my cold face slanting upward like a shield... through the glass-stained windows it dazzled to restore the presence of grace! How I would like to hear that huge organ play the lovely," Ave Maria" by Mozart, making the gathered faithful cry and moved by its inspiring sound I contemplated an art , which revered and honored God in His glory...so exuberantly expressed by Man's spirit! No other place, more beautiful than this, can make me forget the awe and joy that I felt! Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci