As a regular communicant at the Saturday night Mass, I long thought Holy Family Cathedral was the most beautiful church that could possibly exist.

Long stained-glass windows streamed down the walls, brick made the exterior look aged and venerable, and ivy crept up the sides of the tower from which bells chimed the hours.

After a few years of Catholic traveling, though, I recently returned to Orange County's cathedral and came to a startling realization: This church, which I have for so long considered my spiritual home, is a combination of traditional cathedral and more contemporary architecture. It's a combination I had never noticed before.

What a wonderful place to pray Jan. 5, feast of the Epiphany.

The ceiling soars, as indeed it would in more ancient cathedrals — Holy Family was dedicated in 1961 — but, rather than leading the eye to stratospheric stained glass or the graceful sculptures, the ceiling itself is the visual destination: a simple and soothing assemblage of thousands of naked strips of wood. The bottom half of the church walls is painted a dull brown, the monotony broken only by the doors of the confessionals and two niches that I now recognize as the modern counterpart to older cathedrals' multiple shrines. One is dedicated to the Sacred Heart, the other to Our Lady of Guadalupe, patroness of the Diocese of Orange.

Between the unadorned ceiling and the less-than-thrilling lower walls are paired rainbows: windows depicting the community of saints. As a child, I loved to stare at the holy ones' peaceful faces and try to pronounce the tongue-twisting biblical names. As an adult, I now recognize the interesting combination of ancient and contemporary stained-glass artistry. While the saints' faces and extremities are realistically detailed, as figures in older stained-glass windows are — right down to the eyebrows and the toenails — the robes they wear are formed by very modern blocks of color.

Between each pair of windows are the Stations of the Cross, intricate mosaics that puzzled my mind when I was a child. Rather than paying attention to the homily, I often whiled away the Mass wondering where they'd found pebbles in so many different colors.

Today there are newer mosaics in the front of the church and the back — two on the walls flanking the sanctuary, one on the choir-loft balcony. These, like the stained-glass windows in the flanking walls, are more contemporary works of art. The balcony mosaic, for instance, is a collage commanding: “Be doers of the word.”

With its palm trees, bright oranges and swooping freeways, the mosaic definitely belongs here in southern California. Yet, thanks to its lovely depiction of Communion bread and wine, it also speaks to the universal Church.

Jesus Joins In

Few visitors are aware that this cathedral is older than the diocese it leads. Established in 1976, the Diocese of Orange has a history far beyond its years, starting with the 1769 Portola expedition. Two Franciscan missionaries accompanied the expedition, which cut across the land that later became Orange County. It is thought that on July 28, 1769, the first Mass was celebrated in what became the parish of Holy Family.

In 1921, the Archdiocese of Los Angeles appointed the newly established Holy Family parish its first pastor. The first Mass was celebrated in Holy Family Church, then located in downtown Orange, in 1922. The parish started the three-quarter-mile move to its current site in 1949, when the parish school opened.

Inside, the church continues to change little by little. One of the most recent developments was an addition to the Holy Family: Despite the church's name, only statues of Mary and Joseph stood near the altar in former years. Now the two parents bookend a statue of young Jesus, and the family stands together near the sanctuary.

Around the parish, too, things change. Glassell Street has become a virtual thoroughfare, connecting downtown Orange and Santa Ana, the county seat. Nearby hums a freeway that boasts one of the four worst bottlenecks in the state (where it connects with another freeway). And there is talk of a new cathedral, a bigger one that will stand in a more appropriate location: heavily Hispanic — and heavily Catholic — Santa Ana.

The trappings change, and even its position in the diocese may not be permanent, but one thing is absolutely immutable. Whether you look at it with adult eyes or the affectionate gaze of a child, Holy Family Cathedral is a beautiful church, a loving home to its parishioners and a witness to the glory of God.

Elisabeth Deffner writes from Orange, California.