My husband, Rich, and I were recently on vacation and we visited one of the churches in the city where we were staying. My father-in-law was with us and no matter where he is, he never misses Mass, so off we went that Sunday morning, for worship and promises of eating breakfast at Denny’s afterward. My father-in-law also loves his eggs and home fries.
Mr. Paras had been to this particular church many times before with his wife, who passed away in 1995. Even though he had not been there in several years, his sharp memory led us down a busy thoroughfare, through traffic lights, and on a side street right to the church. The building struck me from the moment we pulled up. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen in church architecture. It was an A-frame building, so looking at it straight on was like staring at a big capital “A” or a triangle there in the cityscape. Much of the front of the building was dedicated to a painting of Christ. The tall cathedral, which reached toward the sky with a sharp angled roof, made for a very elongated portrayal of Jesus, but all the same, the depiction was stunning. I’d never seen Jesus presented this way, but then again, I was far from home.
One can feel uneasy visiting an unfamiliar church. What do you do? Will you know the hymns? What are the customs? However, I soon felt welcome and at peace inside this place. Outside and on the drive to the church—actually, for most of our outings on this vacation—our environment had been crowded and noisy. But inside the church, all was calm. To be nestled in such a busy city, this sanctuary, with the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows, brought me such sweet joy. I felt close to God. I bowed my head and spent a few quiet moments in prayer and meditation. With my eyes closed, it was as if only the two of us were there: just me and the heavenly Father.
In keeping with the geometrical design of the building, the inside of the cathedral was as striking as the outside. Tall triangular windows lined either side of the sanctuary. It was a very modern church, so different from the little white clapboard Methodist church that I attend in the Hudson Valley. Even the figures—Jesus, the disciples, angels—depicted in the stained glass were different from what I was accustomed to, their bodies drawn very long, with many lines and angles, but still as beautiful as any I’d ever seen. I was glad my father-in-law had insisted on not missing Mass. I was happy here.
After the service, which included a wonderful sermon and familiar hymns accompanied by a small orchestra, we exited the church into the bright sunshine. I felt so blessed that I wanted to say a few words to the priest. I found him bidding his parishioners farewell at the door.
I told him that I truly enjoyed the service there at the Guardian Angel Cathedral. And if I am ever in Las Vegas again, I hope to return.
I leave you with Psalm 16:11—You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.
—Kim Paras
