One of the many adventures my parents and I went on during my gap year was a “Nooks and Crannies” tour of the James J. Hill house in St. Paul, Minnesota. Sadly most of the photos I took didn’t turn out, but it’s an absolutely mind-boggling place.
I took it upon myself to capture some decent photographs on a recent visit to the historic James J. Hill House, while still keeping up with the tour group. I wasn’t sure if I would be allowed to bring my tripod with, so I left it in the car, but it turned out to be quite dark in there.
The images above are a small selection of what I managed to salvage from the poor lighting conditions, in spite of my camera’s distaste for ISO’s higher than 400.
“James J. Hill House” Completed Mid 2011 - Photography Work - Shapes Industries
The Pope is in America. I’m reminded of Pope John Paul II’s 1987 visit to the U.S., which my father and my maternal grandmother sat together and watched on TV. Dad and Grandma didn’t have a lot in common, but they were both descendants of the German-Catholic diaspora that flowed into Minnesota in the 19th century. If you were raised Catholic, it’s hard to ignore the Pope.
I was raised Catholic—attending Mass twice a week, and Catholic school five times a week—until I graduated from high school in 1993. I then went to college and surprised everyone, most of all myself, by fairly promptly abandoning the faith; it’s now been over half my life since I’ve been a practicing Catholic.
Over the course of those years, I have to say, the Church hasn’t made it particularly difficult to stay away. There have of course been the child abuse scandals, with the tragic evidence of predation and deception cascading in waves that have crashed particularly loudly in Minnesota. Then there was John Paul’s dogmatic successor, Pope Benedict, whose appointment seemed intended to please the most reactionary elements of the Church. The new Pope Francis—who aims both to promote social justice and perpetuate the Church’s longstanding traditions—has been, for me as for many current and former Catholics, at once refreshing and frustrating.
Though some lapsed Catholics (a euphemism I’m surprised hasn’t been more widely picked up: “Oh, she didn’t dump me—she’s just lapsed from our relationship”) are waiting for reforms that would inspire them to return to the fold, I’m not waiting for anything. There are any number of alternate faiths I could join if I were looking for an alternate theology.
Still, the Church and its actions will always resonate strongly with me: it’s what I knew and was taught to honor for my entire childhood, it’s the faith that many of my friends and family members still practice, and it’s been foundational to my community. Every day when I bike to work, I pass the “Holy Trinity” of buildings representing Minnesota’s traditionally towering institutions: the James J. Hill House (industry), the State Capitol (government), and the Cathedral of St. Paul (church).
Watching the coverage of Francis’s visit to America, I’m reminded of just how many Pope-watchers there are. Beyond the country’s millions of practicing and formerly practicing Catholics, the Pope’s visit has interested politicians of both parties—he was personally greeted by President Obama, and invited by John Boehner to address a joint session of Congress—as well as a wide swath of observers interested in the Pope’s position on social and environmental issues, in addition to the good old-fashioned celebrity gawkers.
In all the coverage, I’ve particularly noticed all the reminders of just how many Americans are like me: people who feel a strong connection to the Church, but who don’t subscribe to all of its theological tenets.
A substantial majority of practicing Catholics disagree—in principle and/or practice—with the Church’s ban on birth control, and many also depart from orthodoxy in their views on homosexuality and the need for priests to exclusively be celibate men. Beyond those who consider themselves active members of the Church, there are many millions more who exist along the spectrum from faithful but occasional churchgoers to people like me who have left the Church behind as an institution but continue to live with the Church as part of our personal histories.
Like my dad and my grandma, we’re all drawn together in front of the TV when the Pope gets off the plane. The Papacy is quintessentially Catholic: an elaborate, ritual-laden embodiment of God’s purported presence on Earth, with a lineage believed to extend straight back to St. Peter himself. Love him or hate him, when the Pope appears, we children of his faith can’t look away. We watch, we listen, and—even if we don’t know what for—we wait.