Not every Kentucky church wears its story on its sleeve. Some live quietly in the folds of family memory and the patina of old wood, where whispers of monks, French kings, and faithful farmers still echo between the pews.
This is the story of St. Vincent de Paul Church in New Hope—a church raised not just by hands, but by hearts. From an altar carved across the sea to a schoolhouse run by nuns and casseroles, this parish has been a cradle of frontier faith for over 200 years.

Foundations of Faith: The First Families of New Hope

Before there was a town called New Hope, there was James “John Baptist” Dant. A devout Catholic from Maryland, Dant brought his family to Kentucky’s Rolling Fork area around 1793. In 1800, he opened his own log cabin to the Mass—transforming his home into what was then called St. Barbara’s Chapel.
Dant wasn’t alone. Other early Catholic families followed: the Heads, Browns, Vowels, Miles, and Mastersons—many of them also Maryland Catholics seeking freedom of worship and fertile land. These settlers didn’t just worship together; they built together. In 1819, under the guidance of missionary priest Fr. Charles Nerinckx (founder of the Sisters of Loretto), a small log chapel was erected on or near the Dant property and formally named St. Vincent de Paul.
That original log church weathered generations, but as the Catholic population grew, so did the need for a lasting structure. In the 1850s, a modest brick building replaced the old log frame. Still, the congregation dreamed bigger.
By 1887, with rising numbers and firm resolve, they broke ground for the church that still stands today. At the heart of that effort was Edward Leo “E.L.” Miles, a prominent distiller whose Belle of Nelson distillery had brought prosperity to New Hope. Miles and his wife Annabelle donated land for the church and gave $11,000, more than half of the total building cost. In a time when dollars were dear, the gift was extraordinary—and lasting.
One local put it best: “The whiskey might’ve put New Hope on the map, but it was the church that gave us a soul.”

The Altar from Across the Sea: Craft and Lore

Step inside St. Vincent de Paul today and you’ll see it—a hand-carved wooden altar, deep-toned oak, rich with gilded accents and gothic lines. It looks as though it belongs in a European cathedral, and in a way, it does.
Parish records confirm the altar and lectern were shipped from France by boat sometime around 1887–1888. Crafted from European oak by skilled artisans, the altar arrived in New Hope in crates and was assembled inside the sanctuary where it remains to this day.
But that’s just the official version. Local lore tells something more colorful.
Some say the altar once stood in a French chapel used by exiled royalty, possibly even connected to King Louis-Philippe, who spent time in the U.S. during his exile. One family insists their grandmother claimed the altar “came from a castle.” While there’s no documentation proving royal hands ever touched it, that hasn’t stopped parishioners from sharing the tale at potlucks and parish picnics.
And why not? The workmanship is so fine that it’s easy to believe it might once have graced a royal or noble estate. Over time, the myth became part of the church’s charm—just another way New Hope’s faith blends fact and folklore.

The Abbey Next Door: Gethsemani’s Quiet Influence

Just a few miles away sits another sacred site: The Abbey of Gethsemani, home of the Trappist monks and made famous by Thomas Merton. What many don’t realize is that St. Vincent’s founder, James Dant, donated the land where the monks settled in 1848.
Though cloistered and separate, the Abbey and parish have long shared spiritual DNA. Parishioners say that on certain still mornings, the bells of the Abbey and St. Vincent’s could be heard ringing in tandem—“a harmony of holiness,” one elder called it.
In decades past, it was common for New Hope families to bring food gifts to the monks—jars of preserves, fresh eggs, canned beans—and receive fruitcakes or candles in return, especially during Advent.
Even the parish’s musical traditions show monastic echoes. At one point in the 20th century, a small group of altar boys were trained in Gregorian chant—a direct influence from the Abbey’s liturgical practices.
New Hope may have been small, but spiritually, it stood tall thanks to the monks next door.

The School Beside the Sanctuary

Education was a central part of parish life. In 1890, the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth began teaching at St. Vincent’s School, housed in a small red-brick building just behind the church. It was a classic Catholic school: strict, structured, and beloved.
During the Great Depression, when funds ran dry, the school temporarily operated as a public school from 1934 to 1945 to ensure local children could continue learning. Once financial conditions improved, the Sisters returned.
Lay teachers joined in the post-war years, and the school thrived well into the 1960s. Parishioners recall Louise Dant, a longtime organist, cooking meals for the sisters and attending school events as both parent and volunteer. Her daughter Amy Dant attended until the school closed in 1975.
Today, the old schoolhouse serves as a parish hall, but in the minds of many, the smell of chalk and the sound of rulers tapping desks still lingers.

Lore, Laughter, and a Living Legacy

For all its sacred rituals, St. Vincent’s never lacked for color.
In the 1920s, the church basement doubled as a roller-skating rink during summer socials, with women in long skirts lacing up to raise money for the parish roof.
One story—passed down like family silver—claims a squirrel ran across the rafters during a High Mass, prompting the priest to pause as children giggled and their parents tried not to laugh.
Others recall cooking dinner with whiskey gravy, made with the best bourbon from across the street, for fundraising dinners. No one complained.
And then there’s the ongoing legend that some of the altar wood was “smuggled” off a royal estate, saved from destruction during the French Revolution. It’s not provable, but it’s beloved nonetheless.

A Church That Endures

From a single Mass in a log cabin to a vibrant parish with deep roots, St. Vincent de Paul Church in New Hope has endured for over two centuries. It has weathered floods, war, economic hardship, and cultural shifts—but never lost the sense of community and faith that birthed it.
Its story is not just about architecture, or even religion—it’s about people. Families who farmed by day and prayed by night. Children who learned to read in the parish school. Women who cooked for nuns and sang in choirs. Men who poured whiskey and then poured concrete to build a house of worship.
They left behind more than buildings. They left a legacy of steadfast devotion that still echoes between those oak-carved walls.

Come See the Legacy for Yourself

If you’re ever near New Hope—don’t just drive through. Stop. Walk the cemetery. Touch the wood of the altar that came from a world away. Look up at the rafters and imagine a squirrel scampering during Mass. And know that this little church, tucked between a monastery and a memory, is still very much alive.