The Old Mission

Late one blizzarding night, as we made our way across the pass to Coeur d'Alene, we saw a sign for a historic site.  It was not the time, nor the proper weather, for a stop, but we agreed that when we returned this way, we would make an effort to stop and see Coeur d'Alene's Old Mission. 

On our return trip the weather was intermittently snowy and sunny.  With better daylight and better road, though, we decided to stop and take a look.  

View of the mission from the highway

Large flakes of snow threatened when we first arrived.  

 Our first look at the church was impressive, as the sun broke through the clouds and bathed the freshly fallen snow in its radiance.

 Our awe only increased as we went inside the church and discovered that it had been built in the 1800's (completely in time for Christmas Eve 1842 according to a plaque inside), at a time when there were no roads or reliable forms of transportation - much less construction companies.

According to the brochure,

Before the first white men began entering the land, a tribe of Indians lived along the shored of Lake Coeur d'Alene and the surrounding territory.  They were a proud people - peaceful, intelligent, attractive.  They lived in teepees and moved throughout this area in search of game, fish, berries, and roots.

The tribe of 2500 to 4000 Indians was originally called the "Schee-chu-umsh" or "Schitsu'umsh."  They were renamed the Coeur d'Alene Indians, meaning "heart of the awl," by French trappers who considered them shrewd bargainers.  The Coeur d'Alenes were very spiritual, and when they heard that a neighboring tribe had "medicine man" of great powers, they decided they wanted this magic for themselves.  They sent out word that the "Blackrobes," Catholic Jesuit preists, would be welcomed among their people.  So in the early 1840's, Jesuit missionaries came into north Idaho.   


These Jesuit missionaries designed and built the church that you see pictured here.  They had trained and studied in various areas, including architecture and medicine, before arriving in this Rocky Mountain wilderness, and their various skills and talents were put to good use here.  Father Ravalli painted at least  one of the pictures below (quite possibly both).

 He also carved the two statues of Mary and John out of wood and painted them to look like the stone that was usually seen in churches.

This altar is also his work, again, formed out of common materials (pine) but made to look like the traditional marble of altars.  

There are similarly impressive works in niches to Mary and Joseph on either side of the main altar.  Each of the smaller altars, though looking like stone from a distance, are merely painted canvas.  In the case of Joseph's altar, the original writing on the canvas (from the wine they used) shows through, overpowering the ancient paint.  

The man working their told us about their ingenuity and ability to plan ahead and use whatever materials they had available.  Below he is demonstrating how the hooks on the wall could hold both candles and lanterns.  They only had candles to use at first, for they were able to make those on their own, but they knew that eventually they would get lanterns, and so planned ahead.

In the back rooms, behind the altars, one can get a glimpse of what the walls originally looked like, before they were paneled.  Mud and straw were the materials they had, and mud and straw were what were used.

Though much of the floor has been redone in the restoration, behind the altar the rough-hewn original wood floors can still be seen.  All the wood in the original structure was hewn with broad axes.

In the picture above you can also catch a glimpse of the walls, hand-painted to look like wallpaper.  Most of that is gone now (the original remains are near the floor on the right), but what can be seen gives an feeling for how impressive it was.


There was no foundry there, as our guide informed us.  The metal work?  It was all made from tin cans and such.  Use what you have.  Waste not, want not.  

There were pictures around the church depicting the stations of the cross.  Though the original pictures had been brought with them, they had painted the flower border to match  the "wall paper" and had created the frames.

Below is a view from the front of the church looking back.

The last thing our guide talked about was the ceiling, and that was an interesting enough subject to take up considerable time.  Brother Francis Huybrechts carved the ceiling, taking only 10 years to complete it.  Twelve panels make up the ceiling, each with their own symbolism and significance.  Though most of that has been lost, we can guess at some.

One notices that the panels get increasingly more complex as one moves from the back of the church to the front.  This seems to follow a tradition of decorations becoming more wonderful nearer to the altar to point to the glory of God.


As mentioned before, there are 12 panels.  The center ones have the boards oriented "vertically" (as they appear in this picture) while in the side ones the boards are oriented "horizontally."  Except for one.  The third from the back on the right is oriented differently.  Since ten painstaking years saw the creation of these panels, it is unlikely that their creator made a mistake.   More likely it symbolized something.  One suggestion is that the twelve panels are the twelve apostles, and the mistaken one represents Judas.  Another theory is that nothing made by man can be perfect - and so a minor imperfection is inserted to the work to remind us of that truth.


Of less symbolic interest, one also notices that the ceiling is blue.  Though the center panels have been restored with modern oil paint, some of the original stain can be seen on the side panels - from huckleberry stems.


The church, restored and still standing, is  a great reminder of the kingdom of God, pressing on, in spite of what seem like insurmountable odds.  I find I want to be like the Jesuits there: facing the challenges with ingenuity, stubbornness, and faith.