The evening began like so many before. A friar arranged flowers around the altar. Folks blessed themselves and shuffled into the chapel. The Conventual Franciscan Friars of Marytown and their guests were preparing for vespers.

Suddenly, one of the brothers noticed a strange sound coming from high overhead. Ping. Ping. Ping. Alarmed, another brother ran to turn on the ceiling lights. That was when Father Steve McKinley hollered: “Get out!”

 With a terrible crash, a hulking section of the chapel ceiling gave way. A mass of shattered plaster, twisted metal, gashed insulation and thick dust plummeted 45 feet into the sanctuary.

By the time the debris settled, three people had been hurt. The altar, pews and nave floor were all covered — and damaged. “The first thing I thought was that it looked like a bombed-out church in Bosnia,” recalls Brother Paschal.

The still-unexplained structural failure occurred last Sept. 30. The chapel has been closed ever since. But before long, God willing, it will rise again: A major restoration project is now underway.

Only workers have been allowed into the chapel while construction continues. An exception was made for this reporter during a February visit to Marytown. Brother Paschal led me 40 feet up the scaffolding for a rare peek at the work.

“It’s so hard to come and not see the monstrance,” he admitted as we ascended five flights of stairs in the dimly lit chapel.

Following the collapse, the Eucharist was hastily removed from a monstrance on the high altar. A black robe was draped over the monstrance.

Yet perpetual Eucharistic adoration, a mainstay of the ministry since 1928, went on. Within 24 hours of the accident, the friars had the Blessed Sacrament exposed in a temporary basement chapel.

Standing atop the swaying scaffolding, I was afforded a close-up look at the impressive restoration work. Chicago’s Diprato Rigali Studios has inserted braces to prevent any future cave-ins. They made a mold of the surviving ceiling and, using a plaster and horsehair mixture to match the appearance of the beautifully ornamental original, replaced the section that disintegrated.

I noted that small sheets of gold leaf sat on ladders — an indication that the painstaking process of reapplying the precious-metal finish to the entire ceiling has begun.

St. Kolbe Commemorated

The chapel, patterned after St. Paul Outside-the-Walls in Rome, is the jewel in the crown of Marytown’s lovely, 14-acre complex. It was originally built in 1927 by the Benedictines, following Chicago’s International Eucharistic Congress. A next-door neighbor to Mundelein Seminary, it seems too large and elaborate to be designated a chapel. To my eye it’s more like a full-fledged church, one housing everything one would hope to find in a reverent place of prayer and liturgy — marble, mosaics, relics, stained-glass windows.

Along one side of the nave, large mosaics bear the likenesses of famous Benedictine saints. The opposite side features similarly styled Franciscan saints — a sign of the chapel’s eventual transition from the former order to the latter.

One side chapel is devoted to Maximilian Kolbe. Its most striking features are a large mosaic commemorating the martyrdom of St. Maximilian Kolbe at Auschwitz and a reliquary bearing a first-class relic: hair trimmed from St. Kolbe’s beard. And why not? In 2000, the U.S. bishops designated Marytown as the National Shrine of St. Maximilian Kolbe.

Stained-glass windows on either side of the chapel depict angels in procession. They’re making their way toward an enormous mosaic of the Eucharist on the wall above and the high altar and its monstrance.

Each angel carries a Mass element toward the sanctuary. One brings candles, another the missal. Others bear a cross, vestments, wine, water and bread.

The complex was built for the Benedictine Sisters of Perpetual Adoration from Missouri and completed in 1932. The Conventual Franciscan Friars moved their ministry from Wisconsin to Libertyville in 1978.

In addition to the chapel, Marytown contains outdoor shrines, a retreat facility and a conference center.

The chapel’s lower level features the Kolbe Holocaust Memorial. This small museum recounts the Nazis’ atrocities and displays rare photographs of St. Maximilian. It also has a re-creation of the concentration-camp cell in which he was martyred, offering his life in place of a randomly condemned prisoner who was a young husband and father.

One of the unexpected treats that surprised me was the plentiful artwork throughout the Marytown complex. Nearly every nook and cranny has some unexpected feast for the eyes.

Outside is a Rosary walk comprising all four sets of mysteries. Alabaster displays depict the event behind each individual mystery. Each set is arranged in a circle, decorating the grounds as it offers a practical prayer aid.

The friars are currently attempting to raise the $1 million needed to cover the cost of the chapel restoration. Until this work is complete, the public is invited to participate in Mass and the prayer life of the friars in the temporary chapel.

As my own visit coincided with Ash Wednesday, I found Marytown the ideal place to begin Lent. I prayed the Liturgy of the Hours with the friars and contemplated not only the sacrifices required of the Lenten season, but also the sacrifices of St. Maximilian Kolbe and Jesus Christ. Bolstered by their examples, I could begin Lent with a strengthened resolve.

Now that Easter is upon us, I have the impending “resurrection” of the Marytown chapel to help me reflect in a new way on Our Lord’s death-defeating rise in glory from the grave.

After all, when newly unveiled later this year — by mid-summer, the friars hope — the chapel will look much as it did in its original form. Marble floors long covered by carpet will shine once again. The high altar and monstrance, covered with dust from the collapse, will gleam with new luster. And the strengthened ceiling, complete with new gold leaf and a fresh coat of red paint, will radiate spiritual warmth once more.

He is risen indeed!

Senior writer Tim Drake is based in St. Joseph, Minnesota.