The last stop for bus #4 on this year’s church tour in the Bridgeport neighborhood of Chicago was the Church of St. Barbara on S. Throop St.
It’s an octagonal Renaissance-style church and another edifice created by a Polish congregation in the early 20th century. These days, the congregation is much more  ethnically mixed, but Polish still greets visitors at the main entrance.
St. Barbara is another Worthmann & Steinbach design, finished in 1914, the second we saw on Saturday after First Lutheran Church of the Trinity. Architects tend to be ecumenical in their clients, I figure. A commission’s a commission.

The octagonal shape makes it a little hard to comprehend the interior by looking straight ahead. You have to spend time looking around.
And looking up.
Here’s St. Barbara, looking down on the altar.
I couldn’t remember who St. Barbara was thought to be, but the sword is distinctive. So I looked her up later.

“Virgin and Martyr,” New Advent says. “There is no reference to St. Barbara contained in the authentic early historical authorities for Christian antiquity, neither does her name appear in the original recension of St. Jerome’s martyrology. Veneration of the saint was common, however, from the seventh century.

“Barbara was the daughter of a rich heathen named Dioscorus. She was carefully guarded by her father who kept her shut up in a tower in order to preserve her from the outside world… Before going on a journey her father commanded that a bath-house be erected for her use near her dwelling, and during his absence Barbara had three windows put in it, as a symbol of the Holy Trinity, instead of the two originally intended.

“When her father returned she acknowledged herself to be a Christian; upon this she was ill-treated by him and dragged before the prefect of the province, Martinianus, who had her cruelly tortured and finally condemned her to death by beheading. The father himself carried out the death sentence, but in punishment for this he was struck by lightning on the way home and his body consumed.

“The legend that her father was struck by lightning caused her, probably, to be regarded by the common people as the patron saint in time of danger from thunderstorms and fire, and later by analogy, as the protector of artillerymen and miners.”

One of those very popular saints without any actual historical basis, it seems. No matter. She has a lot of places named after her besides the city in California.

After looking around the sanctuary, we went to the adjacent school for snacks. That’s where I saw something else I’d never seen before.

A bingo sign. Plugged in and everything. Pretty much as mysterious to me as the tales of St. Barbara.

Mostly Catholic immigrants have populated the Bridgeport neighborhood in Chicago over the years, but not entirely. There were many Germans there once upon a time, some of whom happened to be Lutheran.

First Lutheran Church of the Trinity rises over W. 31st St. and has since 1913. It was the only Protestant church we visited on the tour.

Worthmann & Steinbach did the Gothic design. They also did St. Mary of the Angels, while Steinbach did Covenant Presbyterian Church.

“Currently the oldest Christian congregation in the Bridgeport neighborhood of Chicago [founded in 1865], First Trinity was originally located on the southeast corner of 25th Place and S. Canal,” the church web site notes. “After the railroad took possession of that property, the church moved to its current location… in the early 20th century.

“The church started out as a German immigrant parish named Ev. Luth. Dreieinigkeits (Evangelical Lutheran Trinity), supported an elementary school, and earned the nickname ‘Mother Church of the South Side’ by numerous branch schools that eventually developed into daughter congregations on the South Side of Chicago.”

The last service in German was sometime in the 1950s, if I remember the docent right. During a renovation at some point the line from Scripture (Luke 11:28) was changed from German to English.

Inside, as you’d expect, the adornment is toned down.

As the docent said, there isn’t much to distract you front looking straight ahead.
I thought the trefoil over the altar was an interesting detail.
I don’t think I’ve seen one quite like it. Completely fitting, considering the name of the church.

Two stops on the churches by bus tour in the Bridgeport neighborhood of Chicago on Saturday weren’t churches any more, not at least as they’d originally been built. One was the Monastery of the Holy Cross on S. Aberdeen St.

Hermann Gaul designed the Gothic structure as Immaculate Conception Church in 1908. You have to like a tower that sports gargoyles.
It occurred to me that Gargoyle or the Gargoyles would be a good name for a punk or metal band, but as usual keener minds are ahead of me.

Eventually the church closed due to declining attendance, and some Benedictines took the place over in 1991. I understand that the monks have to be self-sustaining, so they operate a bed and breakfast on the property (which we did not see), and also sell coffins and CDs of their plainsong.

I’d say the brothers have done a pretty good job of keeping up the place.

As well as providing sacred art.
Here’s an unusual subject for a stained glass window, but it does reference the original name of the church. The glass depicts Pius IX promulgating Ineffabilis Deus, which defined the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, in 1854.
A block away from Monastery of the Holy Cross is Ling Shen Ching Tze Buddhist Temple, on W. 31st St. For most of its existence, the structure was Emmanuel Presbyterian Church. Which looks better, at least at the time of day I visited, in monochrome.

John Wellborn Root designed the church before his unfortunate death at 41, and Daniel Burnham oversaw its construction in 1894. In 1994, Ling Shen Ching Tze acquired the property.

A service was going on when we visited, so we could only peek inside.
The temple’s headquarters is in Washington state. As far as I can tell, it’s devoted to the teaching of Taoism, Sutrayana and Tantric philosophies. A mite different from Presbyterianism, no doubt.

It’s been a few years since we took a church bus tour — 2014 and ’15, as it happens — so a while ago I looked into this year’s offerings from the newly renamed and relocated Chicago Architecture Center on E. Wacker Dr.

Formerly, Chicago Architecture Foundation. Why did the organization give up the solidity of foundation for the generic center?

Never mind, the tours look as good as ever. The church bus tour selection this year was a cluster of churches in the Bridgeport neighborhood of Chicago. Actually, four Christian churches, one monastery, and one Buddhist temple in a building that used to be a church, but has been modified to meet the needs of the Chinese-American population moving into Bridgeport from nearby Chinatown.

Even now, Bridgeport evokes the Irish. After all, that’s the neighborhood that gave Chicago the Daleys and, going back a little further, Mr. Dooley. Of course in our time, other ethnicities are in the mix, such as the aforementioned Chinese, but also an Hispanic population. As far as I can tell, Bridgeport never really was home to just one group, because even in the early days there were Irish, but also Germans, Poles, Lithuanians, Italians and Bohemians.

It hasn’t always been a peaceful place. “Bridgeport once stood as a bastion of white ethnic communities,” the Encyclopedia of Chicago says. “Racial and ethnic strife has always been part of its history. An almost legendary clash between the Germans and the Irish occurred in 1856. During the Civil War pro-Confederate rallies were held in the neighborhood. In the twentieth century Polish and Lithuanian gangs often clashed along Morgan Street.”

St. Mary of Perpetual Help, tucked away on W. 32nd St. in Bridgeport, originally had a Polish congregation. It’s a magnificent blend of styles, with Romanesque on the outside.
Inside, a handsome Byzantine style.

With impressive domes, though I didn’t manage a good shot of any of their exteriors.
Henry Engelbert designed the church, which was completed in 1892. He’s listed as one of the designers of Our Lady of Sorrows Basilica in Chicago, but he’s better known for his work in New York City. St. Mary of Perpetual Help’s interior was by John A. Mallin, who did the interiors of a lot of churches in his long career.

Here’s the resplendent altar.

Stations of the Cross, with original Polish.

First-rate stained glass, as you’d expect.

Everything looks impressively new, but that’s because during the decades of the 21st century so far, the parish has undertaken major restoration work both exterior and interior. Being able to raise that kind of money must count as a minor miracle, though probably not in the theological sense.