The Old Stone Church
Cleveland History Comes Alive
The church is gray sandstone again after a good cleaning in 1998 -- many of us will remember that it was once blackened by years of pollution. To me, the Old Stone Church is a symbol of resolve in a culture that has grown in stature but not in faith. Or maybe our faith has just changed.
One can stop in front of the Old Stone Church and contemplate Cleveland as it was in 1857. Residential development had begun around the square in the 1820s; old pictures and maps show a public space in a rural town, where dirt roads intersected and horses drew carriages. When the church was built, it looked out over a tree-filled square, which was surrounded by a thriving commercial district by 1870. The church has been there for the passing of President Abraham Lincoln's funeral bier in 1865 and the lighting of America's first streetlamps in 1879. Residential living was ousted by commercial development by the end of the 19th century.
Many of the landmark churches in Cleveland are struggling to survive with the exodus to the suburbs and diminishing church goers. St. Emerick’s Hungarian Catholic Church behind the West Side Market holds services in Hungarian for those few first-generation Hungarians that remain, but they fail to bring in large numbers of new supporters. Inner city churches are sharing fellowship to pool their resources, even sharing pastors, because having worship and programming for the members of each church is not feasibly possible. They still do the work, just differently.
The Old Stone Church ministers to those who pass by it on their way to work, downtown dwellers, and suburbanites who choose to worship in the “neighborhood” they feel more kinship with than the church near home. Ministry to a downtown neighborhood includes open doors and organ concerts at lunchtime, yoga classes in the basement a couple times a week, and a daycare center. During Lent, special Lenten services are held during the lunch hours and a labyrinth is available to assist with contemplation.
I recently had the rare opportunity to be alone in the sanctuary of the church. The sound of street traffic does not permeate the stone walls—it was completely quiet. It was so quiet I was glad the carpeted floors stifled the clicking of my heels. There is a sense of ghosts in the place, even though no crypts line the walls. Plaques and stained glass windows applaud contributing church members who donated money and labor, and who are now gone from the world. History resounds in the dates of the plaques, from the 1700s through recent years.
I took in the smell of wood and books, and history. The pews are divided by a center aisle and wooden panels divide the pews down the middle as well. Dark mahogany and oak paneling adorns the walls shoulder-high, then decorated stucco walls rise to the carved balcony and high barrel-vaulted trussed ceiling. Sun shines brightly through the many beautiful stained glass windows; four of the stained glas windows are from the Louis Comfort Tiffany studio. Soft light falls over the grand piano in its corner location. The richly-carved wood and high ceilings have an Old World ostentatious feel, but the church it is not that way--there is no gilded alter, just a wooden one with a cross below the turquoise-blue wall adorned with gold symbols and stars.
The interior of the church suffered two major fires, but today it is beautifully decorated with Tiffany stained glass designed by Cleveland architect Charles F. Schweinfurth. The Church recently restored its window Christ Blessing Little Children designed by F. and S. Lamb and installed in 1910, after being removed from the church on April 17, 2006. In April 2005, The Recording Angel window was removed; it was designed by Louis Comfort Window in 1885 and rededicated on January 22, 2006.
The modern stained glass window on the east side of the annex building facing Ontario is a history lesson with John Knox and others who built the Presbyterian Church. When I went outside I was disappointed how obscured the window is from outside. I looked up to the steel and aluminum spire topped by an 8-foot high cross that was lifted into place in 1999. Then I stopped in front of the heavy wooden doors at the front of the Church and touched the old church bell memorialized on a cement block outside the entrance. Stepping across the street to take a picture, I remembered I’d read its architecture is Tuscan, and yes, I could see it as being similar to the churches of Florence.
The Old Stone Church is a quiet oasis in the city, still facing Public Square, its outside walls sandblasted, its steeple replaced, and its stained glass windows refurbished and re-installed. Its glory remains. The Old Stone Church has remained the neighborhood church even as the neighborhood itself has moved away.
But for those who work and live downtown, the church is available, even for those who will never wander in.
From Cool Cleveland contributor Claudia J. Taller ctallerwritesATwowway.com
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