It's difficult to envision a church more ideally paired with its surroundings than St. Catherine of Alexandria on California's Santa Catalina Island.

The 52-year-old church is an easy walk from central Avalon (the island's main city), but far enough away from the narrow strip of beach, the crowded tourist shops and humming restaurants that those tourists who manage to find the church must have been looking for it.

Its rectangular, tile-trimmed tower bears a slim cross that soars high above the rooflines on its residential street. Inside a tower niche stands a sculpture of St. Catherine, easily recognizable by her wheel, the instrument of torture to which the fourth-century virgin and martyr was condemned by Emperor Maxentius; tradition says that her touch destroyed the spiked wheel that, in this seaside church, resembles a ship's wheel.

Above the four wooden doors in the church's opening archway is a semicircular tile portrait of Catherine and her wheel, waves crashing behind her. Here, as on the top of the tower, Catalina's traditions blend with Catherine's.

Glazed tiles made from island clay—known to collectors simply as Catalina tiles—are evident on historic structures around the island, perhaps most spectacularly on Catalina's signature building, the casino, and on the Wrigley Memorial, named for the one-time owner of the island and founder of the tile plant in the 1920s. William Wrigley Jr.—yes, that's the Wrigley of the chewing-gum empire and the Chicago ballpark—is partly credited with discovering the island's native clay. His family also gave the land on which St. Catherine stands.

Catherine's Sacrafice

Golden tiles frame a sculpture of the Blessed Mother outside St. Catherine Church, the niche edged in Catalina-style blue, white and gold tiles. Inside, more tiles designate a special area for another statue of Mary; the border pieces, framing tiles of pure white, are designed with garlands of delicate flowers. (Though they resemble them, they are not authentic Catalina tiles.)

The church's interior is simple and charming. Smooth white walls provide a backdrop for stained-glass windows depicting biblical scenes. Many of them are nautical, like Noah's Ark or Jonah and the whale, and the images are uniquely painted with few colors — blue, white, purple, gold—and geometric shapes. The windows themselves are small and allow bright island light to pour into the church. Two of them, perpendicular to the crucifix, face each other and provide a natural spotlight for Christ on the cross.

Behind the crucifix is a muted mural, a cloudy sky sweeping over a narrow waterway edged by hills. Painted in subdued blues and purples, like its recently restored extensions, the mural provides an artistic touch without distracting from the reason the church is there in the first place: Christ's sacrifice and resurrection.

Catherine's sacrifice is also brought to visitors' attention again inside the church. Near the reconciliation room stands a statue of Catherine and her wheel, as well as a framed version of her story.

As a young woman of 18, Catherine went to Emperor Maxentius to rebuke him for his violent persecution of Christians. The enraged emperor summoned scholars to argue with the upstart, but she spoke so convincingly that many of the wise men converted to Christianity. The emperor had them immediately put to death, then ordered Catherine scourged and imprisoned. When the empress, accompanied by the emperor's soldiers, went to see this strong-spoken woman in prison, her words converted them as well. They, too, were put to death.

By then, Maxentius had had more than enough. He ordered Catherine to be tortured upon a spiked wheel—from this part of the story the term “Catherine wheel” was born—but Catherine destroyed the instrument of torture before it could do its work. Finally Maxentius had her beheaded.

Overtown Observers

St. Catherine is the patroness of young women, female students and wheelwrights. For centuries, theologians, apologists and philosophers sought her intercession. When explorer Sebastian Vizcaino landed on this Channel Island on Nov. 25, 1602, of course he named it Santa Catalina in honor of the popular martyr whose feast day it was.

California's second Mass was celebrated on the island at that time, by the Discalced Carmelite priests who accompanied Vizcaino. The parish was not established, however, until exactly 300 years later, as part of the Diocese of Monterey and Los Angeles (now the Archdiocese of Los Angeles). Interestingly, Bishop Sylvester Ryan of the Diocese of Monterey was born and raised in Avalon.

On Nov. 23, 2002, the parish of St. Catherine celebrated its parish centennial, as well as the quater-centennial of the first documented Mass in what is now the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. Among the guests from “over-town,” as islanders call the mainland, were Cardinal Roger Mahony of the archdiocese.

No doubt a few tourists also joined the celebration, remembering when they followed Vizcaino and first discovered St. Catherine's island.

Elisabeth Deffner writes from Orange, California.