Rising like a bridge connecting a quiet downtown with a stately historic district in Green Bay, St. Francis Xavier Cathedral seems poised to hold back the harshest of Wisconsin winters — although it certainly caught a break in this unusually warm January of 2006.

The Romanesque structure stands broad and tall, its twin towers and rose windows beckoning passersby to pause and visit with Jesus, really present in the Blessed Sacrament.

One Sunday, I was such a passerby. Out of town and looking for a Catholic Mass, I expected to fulfill my Sunday obligation and say “Hello” to my Lord. But I wasn’t prepared for the spiritual depths that the treasures of this church would take me to.

I learned that the church had its beginnings in a modest community of Catholic German immigrants in the second half of the 19th century. Known as St. Mary’s, the original structure was relatively small. In 1876, they and other benefactors put together $35,000 to build a new cathedral.

Many immigrants of the day, including the Germans who settled in this part of eastern Wisconsin, had fled religious intolerance in their old country. In their new land, they sought to establish what they hoped to preserve: their Catholic faith.

Because of this, the plans for the new cathedral were drafted to resemble the Ludwigskirche, a grand university church in Munich. Five years later, the cathedral was complete. They named it after the zealous missionary priest St. Francis Xavier, who gave his life to bring the Gospel of Christ to the world.

Fascinating Fresco

On the day of my visit a few months back, the weather was windy and unpleasant. I trotted to the front doors, eager to get inside. But I had to stop short before entering, as I caught sight of a black cloth draped over the entrance.

It turned out that, just the week before, Bishop Aloysius John Wycislo — retired bishop of Green Bay, friend of Pope John Paul II and one of the founding members of Catholic Relief Services — had passed away. The black bunting hung in mournful honor of a life lived for God.

I hauled open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. I rearranged my hair, dipped my finger in the holy water, and crossed myself. Feeling inattentive and melancholy from the gloominess of the day and the reminder of Bishop Wycislo’s passing, I said a quick prayer to the Holy Spirit to help me participate well in Mass. 

My prayer was answered in a way I won’t soon forget.

Behind the altar, stretching the width of the sanctuary and soaring to the heights of the nave was a vivid fresco of the Crucifixion. Measuring 40 feet by 25 feet, its grand presence commanded my attention and focused my thoughts on Jesus. I was nearly overcome.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the sacred display as I strode to a pew, genuflected and knelt in prayer. How easy it was to meditate and prepare for Mass with such a help as an immense fresco that so artfully portrays the divine moment of our salvation.

I later learned that the fresco was completed in 1883 by an artist from Covington, Ky., who was often recruited to create murals and frescoes throughout the Midwest: Johann Schmitt, a German. As a guide, he used the recounting of the visions of the Passion of Our Lord given to Venerable Anne Catherine Emmerich — who was, incidentally, German.

The image shows the very moment Christ dies. Every corner of the fresco holds a familiar Crucifixion scene: the guards dividing his clothes, the women crying, the splitting of the ground, the two thieves.

And, in the center of all that activity, Christ — stilled on the cross.

The painting came to life as the priest said the words of consecration. My thoughts went to 2,000 years ago, when the world changed forever. And to the fact that, every time Mass is celebrated, Christ’s sacrifice is made present afresh for people in the present day. What a blessing this image is to all who are able to celebrate Mass in its presence.

Unexpected Unveilings

The cathedral holds many other unexpected treasures, too. Up and down the upper nave hang eight paintings, each one depicting a Beatitude as preached by Christ in his Sermon on the Mount and as lived by various saints.

One image I found particularly moving was of St. Queen Elizabeth of Hungary — who, despite her noble rank, lived an austere life and served the poor. (“Blessed are the Poor in Spirit.”)

I also contemplated the depiction of St. Ambrose and Emperor Theodosius. St. Ambrose chastised the emperor for his unjust, tyrannical, rule, and The Emperor in turn repented humbly. (“Blessed are the Peacemakers.”)

Next to these are two paintings of St. Francis Xavier. One shows him preaching to the natives of Goa, India, where he is said to have converted the entire town. The other depicts his death on an island off the coast of China, where he died of a fever he contracted while he was waiting for permission to enter. These paintings were done by the artist Joseph Albrecht of Munich.

Stained-glass windows line the nave below the Beatitudes paintings. Each presents either a parable or a mystery of faith. The last of these windows struck me as the most poignant of all: the prodigal son. The colored glass shows the familiar image of the son kneeling in broken sorrow before his father, who stands in his doorway.

But here, there is something a little different than what you usually see in depictions of this parable. Behind the father is a woman wearing a blue cloak with her hands folded in prayer. You could see her as the prodigal son’s mother. Or you could take it a step further, which is what I did. The woman, I reasoned, is the Blessed Virgin Mary — who prayed for the return of her son and who rejoices with the father upon the son’s return.

This new dimension to the parable gave me a renewed understanding of Mary’s role as Mother of all Christians who go astray and need to come home to Father through the sacrament of reconciliation. That would be all of us, wouldn’t it? (See Romans 3:23.)

I left the Cathedral of St. Francis Xavier a little better prepared as a disciple of Christ than I’d been when I arrived. With a skip in my step and a hymn in my heart, I went about my Sunday. St. Francis Xavier, thank you for still doing God’s work.

Joy Wambeke writes from
St. Paul, Minnesota.

Planning Your Visit

Daily Mass is celebrated Monday through Saturday at 8:30 a.m. An anticipatory Mass is celebrated at 4 pm on Saturday. Sunday Mass is at 9 a.m. Confessions are heard Saturdays from 3 to 3:45 p.m.

Getting There

From downtown Green Bay, take Monroe Avenue south to 140 South Monroe Ave. The cathedral’s address is 139 South Madison St. For more information, call (920) 432-4348.