Florence, Arizona

Driving south into Florence, Ariz., on a two-lane highway from Phoenix, my family and I were taken aback by the long stretches of spiral, razor-wire fences surrounding one prison after the next. We wondered about the spiritual state of the many people locked up behind the concrete walls with narrow slots for windows.

Just past the county courthouse, we turned west down 8th Street toward the 137-year-old Catholic church we’d come to see.

As much as I wanted to focus on this pilgrimage to Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary Parish, I couldn’t stop thinking about what might have led so many people to act in ways that forced society to suspend their freedom and control their behavior.

But, taking in the sights of the church, I soon started to consider that my own offenses bind me, too. Only by loving God wholeheartedly would I be set free through Jesus. I knew my Mother, Mary could lead me — and those prisoners — to him. If only we let her. This is something we would do well to contemplate on Aug. 15, the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Walking into the main church, the visitor is greeted by the sight of the Blessed Mother herself. In a lovely pastel image, she is surrounded by clouds and angels as she is assumed into heaven. Worshippers have gazed upon this hope-filled sight since 1945. The word here is that the artist was an inmate at the state prison — a man by the unlikely name of Monet.

The people and priests of Assumption have watched over southern Arizona for many years. This was the first Roman Catholic Church in central Arizona. Father André Echallier, from France, be--came the first pastor in 1870. There were only two other priests in the entire state. He administered the sacraments to approximately 600 people. They heard Mass every Sunday in Latin with the homily delivered in Spanish.

Today the four weekend Masses are said in English, although Father Charles Cloud, the pastor, offers weekly Spanish Masses at the prisons. He is a fitting successor to Father Joseph Jacques of Spain, who, as pastor here in the 1940s, tended to the spiritual needs of more than 7,500 prisoners of war north of town. He taught himself Italian and German in order to administer to them.

Many signs of the past can still be seen at Assumption. An ornate, wooden altar stands below the statue of Mary. A beautiful statue of the Infant of Prague watches from just above the tabernacle. To the right and left of the sanctuary rest smaller versions of the main altar. One honors the Sacred Heart of Jesus; the other, St. Joseph with the Infant Jesus.

In the back of the small church stands a larger-than-life crucifix. Mary weeps at the foot of the cross. My 2-year-old looked up and said, “Jesus hurt. Mary crying.” Her words called to mind a piece of Assumption’s history we’d just learned.

Adobe Affection

On Aug. 15, 1893 — the Feast of the Assumption — the parish suffered a terrible loss when the church burned to the ground. Candles had ignited curtains and the flames spread quickly. This was actually the second church structure built for the parish; it had gone up in 1884. Its beloved bell, donated in 1879, was removed from the belfry. For the next 18 years, services were held in the original church, called the Gila Chapel.

Today, Father Cloud celebrates weekly Mass in the historic, adobe Gila Chapel. Its foundation is basalt rocks butted together with mud mortar. In 1876, a series of rooms were added to the west of the chapel to serve as a schoolhouse. From 1920 through 1940, several families temporarily resided in the structure. At the time it had a dirt floor.

The chapel could be used for these purposes since, in 1912, the third church was completed in a red-brick mission style. The first Mass was celebrated — when else? — on the Feast of the Assumption. Looking up at the flat ceiling, the first-time visitor may find its appearance a bit odd, yet endearing. Almost 100 years after the re-build, the curved, dome-like ceiling has never been finished. The 1912 “temporary” ceiling remains permanent.

Bells Will Ring

The use of the Gila Chapel as a multi-purpose complex came to a halt in the 1970s when part of the structure collapsed. The entire complex was closed. A gradual restoration and stabilization continued into the 1980s. While the chapel underwent repairs, structural problems developed in the main church building as parts of the walls began sinking. Father Reginald Phelan installed sidewalks around the perimeter of the church to direct water away from the walls and halt the damage. Cracks in the walls were repaired.

A fence was built around the Gila Chapel and a new parish hall built. On Aug. 15, 1987, Phelan Hall was dedicated.

This year, Bishop Gerald Kicanas of the diocese of Tucson will celebrate Mass on the Feast of the Assumption and confer the sacrament of confirmation. The town will hear the bell ring.

Just like back in 1879, the tradition continues as the echoing of the bell in the tower resounds before each Mass.

We quietly took our place in the front pew, noticing the reverence of all present for Jesus in the tabernacle. As we sang the opening hymn, the priest towered over the people: Father Cloud stands 6 feet 5 inches tall. He has led this parish community for 10 years, drawing on his love for our Eucharistic Lord to help set people free from whatever bars and fences bind them.

Lynanne Lasota writes from

Queen Creek, Arizona.