Inside the church, with 36-foot ceilings, the congregation has plenty of headspace to think about the Lord. The back wall is made of local hickory wood, and all of the altar furniture was locally crafted.
The front doors of Bunker’s new Catholic church, Christ the King. Handmade by one of the church’s local parishioners, the three branches symbolize the three divine parts of the Holy Trinity: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The front doors depict Jesus, the Alpha and the Omega and one family by the symbol of a tree.
Built, in part, by Cahill Construction, Bunker’s new Catholic church, Christ the King, is described by Father Daniel Hirtz as “a series of wows.” The historic, 100-year-old church, which the congregation has occupied for the past 60 years, still stands 300 feet away.
Father Daniel Hirtz
The front doors of Bunker’s new Catholic church, Christ the King. Handmade by one of the church’s local parishioners, the three branches symbolize the three divine parts of the Holy Trinity: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The front doors depict Jesus, the Alpha and the Omega and one family by the symbol of a tree.
Bunker is now home to a fine new Catholic Church, Christ the King, that would be the envy of any town, if that weren’t a sin.
But the congregation must have to take a small bit of pride in the new place of worship, as its beautiful A-frame architecture and smoky wood finish certainly make the outskirts of east Bunker a little more eye-catching. And many of its adornments were handmade from local materials. Cahill Construction Company of Salem built the lion’s share of the exquisite church.
“Everyone is welcome to come and check out this beautiful piece of architecture,” said Priest Daniel Hirtz, known to his congregation simply as “Father Dan.”
Father Dan, who’s also the pastor of Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Salem, says the congregation has been working on building the new church in Bunker for about seven years. Services are held 11:30 a.m. Sundays and 6:30 p.m. Tuesdays. After Father Dan finishes up the 9 a.m. Sunday morning service at Sacred Heart, he then heads southeast.
“We take a quick break and hop in the car,” says Father Dan.
The church has the same mailing address as Sacred Heart, 602 W. Butler St. in Salem, but the physical address is East 72 on the edge of Bunker.
The church was blessed by Bishop James V. Johnston 4 p.m. April 27. About 120 people were in attendance, including six or seven priests from around the state. Julie Salyer provided a catered meal for the dedication.
Inside the church, with 36-foot ceilings, the congregation has plenty of headspace to think about the Lord. The back wall is made of local hickory wood, and all of the altar furniture was locally crafted.
Father Daniel Hirtz
Father Dan says the best way to describe the new church is as a series of “wows.”
“You pull in the driveway, and you look at it and say, ‘Wow!’ ” says Father Dan. “You look at the overall structure, and then you see the front doors and say, ‘Wow!’ because they were handmade by one of the parishioners. The doors are really special. We’ve got the doors. The doors express one faith, one Lord, one family. They have three branches for the Holy Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. And then you come in the front door and you say, ‘Wow!’ again – you see these beautiful chandeliers, and the ceiling is 36-foot high. Then you see, once you go past the chandeliers, you’re going to look at this 36-foot back wall made of local hickory wood, and you’re going to see a nice, tall crucifix on the back wall. Again, you’re going to say, “Wow!” There’s four “wows” coming into that place.”
In addition, all of the altar furniture has been locally crafted, and the church has a full-size basement under it, which will be used as the church hall.
The old church on the property, located about 300 feet away, is still standing.
“It’s been a house; it’s been a tavern,” said Father Dan with his characteristic dry humor. “Someone said they can still smell the spirit in it.”
But the church is considering its options of what exactly to do with the historic – more than a hundred years old – building. When asked if it’ll be torn down, Father Dan is hesitant.
“No, we still want to figure out how to use the other one in the best way for the community. And we may tear it down, yes. Who knows? But I don’t want to get in a hurry about that, you know?”
