Connecting through Mary

The lighting and shadows form what some people
 believe is an image of the Blessed Mother, Mary.

One of the early 20th century parishes established in Florida was St. Mary of the Lakes in Eustis, in 1912. 

Joyce E. Welch wrote a compact history, In the Beginning, which is an enjoyable read. It's the source for the historical elements of this post, with page numbers in parentheses.

My main points, for this blog post, concern:

• the church's naming in the early 1900s;

• the mission church in Mount Dora that grew from the Eustis parish in the 1960s;

• a photo that may or may not show a Marian apparition in the former mission's current church in 2013.

Our Lady's influence is the thread tying them together, in my view.

Before I go any further, let me note that the Catholic Church has a very conservative stance about apparitions. Supposed sightings undergo a rigorous review and investigation process that stretches years.

Very few reported sightings are deemed authentic. I'm writing as a Catholic historical romance author with a vivid imagination who enjoys considering the "what ifs".

We begin with Eustis's first Catholic settler, Charles G. Megargee. He arrived in the mid-1880s. Several years later, another Catholic named Jerry Ott settled in Eustis. Both were from the Philadelphia area. They would journey to Sanford to attend Mass - a 40-mile round trip that took up to eight hours total (15). Think about that the next time it seems like too much effort to get to Mass.

The two businessman were instrumental in establishing the Eustis church. They funded the land purchase and raised the money needed to build a  50x25-foot church debt-free in 1911 (18). As I've found with other Florida pioneer Catholic church stories I've researched, non-Catholics were generous in support.

Megargee and Ott drove parish formation and church construction, but not the parish/church name. A local donor secured a substantial contribution from a Northern relative. It came with strings attached: the church had to be named in honor of St. Mary (18). I don't often refer to Our Lady as St. Mary, but that is one of her titles.

The donation amount was $1,500. Had it been given in 1913, a few years later, it would compare to almost $36,000 today, according to the government's inflation calculator. That's quite a bit of money, and I assume the donor had a deep devotion to the Blessed Mother.

Fast forward to the 1960s. The Eustis parish that started with about 50 Catholics overflowed even the enlarged church in place by that time. The Eustis parish established a mission church in Mount Dora, which grew to become St. Patrick's parish.

Fast forward again to 2013. A friend sent me a smart phone image forwarded to her by the person who took the photo. The story that went with the photo was this: Our Lady had appeared in the Mount Dora church right after morning rosary on the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary.

I stared and stared at the photo and saw nothing but an empty church. After my friend pointed Mary out to me, I could see nothing else.

Even today, when I look at the image, I find it hard to see anything other than Our Lady. Did she appear? Who knows. The image isn't doctored, except where I drew an arrow pointing to the appearance area. But the photo is blurry. Light, shadow, angles, soft focus  - all can distort reality.

The Mount Dora church sprang from the roots of the Eustis parish, which started with - and continues to have - a dedication to Mary. As do I. Our Lady led me back to my faith after I lapsed. 

We'll likely never know if an apparition materialized. But Mary appears to my eyes in the image. And that's what matters to me.

Solid, sturdy, calls to prayer

St. Mary Star of the Sea, Key West.
Credit: http://www.floridamemory.com

In my research, I'm noticing that the pioneer Catholic churches in Florida seem to share a simplicity of style. That interests me, primarily because it magnifies the difference between the urban North and missionary territory of the rural South. Florida may be known today as New York South, but that wasn't the case when the area was being settled in the decades after statehood (1845). The missionary priests, religious sisters, and laity-settlers often formed minority enclaves in Protestant-majority communities. Did these Catholics build minimalist church structures because of financial constraints, supply limitations, or to refrain from calling attention to themselves? Maybe a combination of all three. 

As an example, look at this page's Florida Memory image of St. Mary Star of the Sea Church in Key West, one of Florida's largest cities during the pioneer era. The parish website says St. Mary's was the fifth Roman Catholic church built in Florida, and that it opened in 1852. This photo pre-dates 1901, when the structure burned down. The basic shape, unassuming steeple, and restrained adornment remind me of photos of other Roman Catholic churches established in other Florida towns in the 1880s and even into the early 1900s. 

Key West was a population center in the 1800s, and at one point had more residents than any other city in Florida. That's relative, I know. The 18,000 people in Key West about 1890 are a blip compared to, say, the 500,000 +/-  in New York City when the neo-Gothic grandeur of St. Patrick's Cathedral started to rise in the late 1850s. But the distance between the architectural styles of the cities' prominent Roman Catholic presences is far more than miles or an imbalance in resident populations. To me, the sturdy Florida churches reflect the faithful themselves, at least those brave enough to help settle a new land: plain, solid, and sturdy, and ready to get a job done.