Renovation Ruination

I think it's safe to say that Vatican II probably tried to accomplish too much too soon and while some of the changes it brought about were minor, others must have been extremely jarring for longtime parishioners,  Nowhere is this more true than in the arena of church renovations.
 
Although the Second Vatican Council never issued a single document or dictate that made architectural changes to churches compulsory, that didn't stop zealous pastors from getting carried away with their efforts to bring the Mass closer to the people.  All over the country, drastic renovations were initiated that seemed more like “wreckovations” to parishioners who loved their ornately decorated houses of worship.  High altars, elevated pulpits, reredos, side chapels and part or all of the altar rails were removed.  Statues and frescoes were whitewashed.  Some churches even saw stained glass windows covered over because they were thought to be a distraction.  These changes must have been almost universal because during my lifetime, I've only been to a couple of churches that still used an intact altar rail during the distribution of communion.  Things were getting so out of hand, the Vatican published Opera Artisis in 1971 which called for restraint in dealing with the artwork that adorned churches.  The National Conference of Catholic Bishops appeared to counter these recommendations with a 1978 booklet entitled Environment and Art in Catholic Worship and this only seemed to quicken the pace of these heavy-handed renovations.

A friend's mother mentioned the hurt feelings that were caused when most of her church's marble altar rail was removed because working class immigrants had scraped up whatever money they could to fund its installation.  My mother's childhood parish of the Immaculate Conception of Salem, MA  saw colorful statues painted white and many ornamental details lost.  Both she and my uncle have a bit of sadness in their voices whenever they talk about these changes.  “It's so different now.  It looks nothing like it did when I was a kid,” she laments.
 
While changes to St. Mary Star of the Sea in Beverly were minor by comparison, a couple of prominent statues did not escape the whitewash treatment.  During the 1990s, our pastor was Fr. Charles Hughes and he brought these sculptures back to their original colorful luster.  When a parishioner offered to pay for gold leaf to be added to St. Anthony's rosary, Fr. Hughes insisted it wasn't necessary because a good Franciscan would have carried a wooden rosary.  Today some parishes have instituted “re-renovations” in order to undo many post-Vatican II changes.  It's enough to make you wonder what it was all for in the first place?

Playing musical chairs with a church's decor does very little to get people to go to Mass but in times of uncertainty, undertaking such a renovation provides the illusion that something very tangible and achievable is happening.  The 1960s saw tremendous societal upheaval but instead of confronting the evil of these times, Vatican II's poorly-timed renovations were a distraction that caused many parishes to focus on inward things that really didn't matter all that much.

Unfortunately, the trend of unnecessary renovations didn't begin with Vatican II.  Seeing historical photos of the lower church at St. Mary's in Beverly reveals a very beautiful altar that seemed more than adequate.  It was replaced with a new altar of a much simpler design because Fr. Francis Shields found it necessary to have the lower church completely gutted shortly after his instillation as pastor in 1958.

During the post-World War II years, modern design took hold in America and anything old and ornate was often seen as being obsolete and disposable.  When the Great Salem Fire destroyed St. Joseph's Church, its 1949 replacement was constructed with International Style architecture.  While some grew to cherish this plain-looking building, others thought it was ugly.  When the Archdiocese of Boston wanted to demolish this house of worship many years later, its modern design was occasionally cited as a reason for not saving the building.    

Long after Vatican II, many pastors still can't resist “sprucing up” what they feel are tired-looking churches and I've seen some pretty frivolous and downright baffling renovations over the years.  If you look at exterior of St. Paul's Church in Hamilton, everything seems normal.  Upon entering the building, you notice something isn't quite right.  In 2003, someone got the bright idea to place the altar up against the left wall.  Pews in a semitransept off to the right now have a nice view of the Mass.  Unfortunately, worshipers in the main church don't despite an attempt to angle those pews so that they are more in line with the sanctuary.  I sometimes call St. Paul's the sideways parish.
 
The Carmelite Chapel at the Northshore Mall once featured partitions that slid along tracks in the ceiling but they had long been disused.  A tasteful but very minimal renovation saw the instillation of new ceiling panels without tracks and a pink curtain behind the altar to replace an unattractive green one.  Other than that, the chapel still retained much of its original look.  In 2010, a more extensive renovation took place which saw an entire section of pews removed so the altar could be extended farther out.  The pink curtain was removed and replaced with a wood facade that held two artificially lit stained glass windows from the closed Our Lady of the Assumption Church in Chelsea.  To top it all off, large rectangles of soundproofing hung from the ceiling from chains.  Removing seats is one way to make a house of worship seem more crowded but during the reduced capacity of the Covid-19 lock down, I bet our priests wished they had those extra pews.
 
I thought St. Mary of the Annunciation of Danvers was a nice-looking church yet when Fr. Michael Doyle was installed as pastor, talk of making the parish more “liturgically appropriate” began.  Controversy erupted when plans were made to demolish a neighboring funeral home for extra parking.  When all was said and done, the historic house was gone and the church's interior was completely done over but the renovations seemed gaudy to me.  Instead of adopting a less-is-more approach, the parish went overboard trying to make everything so fancy.  Not long afterwards, Fr. Doyle complained in the church bulletin of dwindling collections and the need for parishioners to give more.
 
The interior of St. Mary Star of the Sea in Beverly was already beautiful but in the early 2000s, our pastor decided to have it fully repainted.  The parish had just paid off a considerable amount of debt thanks to a one-time land deal with a real estate developer.  Talk of boiler repairs, snow removal costs, the possible installation of a sprinkler system and about a hundred other expenses made me wonder if it was really a good time to spend money on such a superficial thing?  After a change in leadership a few years later, our collections no longer met the parish's weekly needs.

And this highlights a very good point.  Priests who place a great deal of importance on exterior changes need to realize they get very little bang for their buck when it comes to improving the spiritual health of their parishes.  In this blog's second entry, I described the disastrous renovation of St. John the Evangelist in Beverly.  Despite “improvements” that were at times painful to look at, my mother, brother and I continued to attend Mass there.  It wasn't the horrible decor that drove us away from the parish.  Rather, it was the realization that our souls were no longer being fed.  Sadly, this is why we left St. Mary's too.  Perhaps pastors need to do a better job building loving and caring communities within the walls of their churches rather than wasting so much time debating what color paint those walls should have.

A Choice For The Archdiocese

My continued discussion with Bishop Mark O'Connell expanded upon the remaining topics I had brought up during his visit to my church.  It started to rain and the low rumble of thunder interrupted our conversation a few times.  Was that another omen?

I bluntly told the bishop with all the difficulties facing the Catholic Church, the hierarchy had a choice: ignore what people like me had to say and watch more parishes wither away or listen to our concerns and try to change course.  I gave several examples where the Boston Archdiocese's arrogance had turned people off.  Instead of being warm and caring, the hierarchy hid behind well-paid lawyers and spokespeople.  A skeptical public sees right through this.  I felt the Archdiocese desperately needed a passionate leader because Cardinal Sean O'Malley seemed too cold and reserved.

When I mentioned how the closure of St. Frances Xavier Cabrini in Scituate was mishandled, the bishop agreed but he commended Cardinal O'Malley for not kicking parishioners out when they held a continuous vigil in that church for over ten years.  I thought if the cardinal had been willing to listen, the controversy never would have happened to begin with.  Trauma from the first wave of church closures ran deep.  Our religion places a lot of importance on creating beautiful houses of worship.  (Just look at the Vatican.)  At my former parish, priests and laity alike would say how beautiful our church was.  Even Cardinal O'Malley's blog praised the recent renovations at St. Mary the Annunciation in Danvers.  Yet, when houses of worship have to close, the hierarchy does an about-face saying, “The church is the people not the building.”

We talked more about needless renovations.  Bishop O'Connell had actually served at St. Mary's in Danvers during the 1990s.  When the parish created a parking lot a couple of years ago, they tore down a beloved Victorian which further alienated the community.  A plan to save the house was ignored by the pastor and another opportunity to show average citizens our faith's compassion and gentleness was lost.  This same stubbornness resurfaced at my former parish in Beverly when the pastor there tore up a cherished garden for a parking lot that parishioners never asked for.

Then I explained how the collaborative plan in Beverly was faltering.  In fact, it was our new pastor's attitude that sent my mother and me looking for a new church.  I told the bishop we weren't living in the dark ages anymore.  If a priest does something wrong, it's unrealistic to believe parishioners will simply follow him with blind obedience.

We both didn't know how to reach the younger generation.  A summer reading group meant for St. Theresa's millennials only attracted older parishioners.  I said many young people today completely dismissed religion and the Church's position on gay marriage was a big wedge issue for millennials.  The bishop thought the Church's teachings weren't fully understood and that's why he wanted to reach out to more people including those who felt marginalized.

We had a lot to say about the sex scandal.  I challenged the Church to do more to satisfy the concerns of victims.  Bishop O'Connell said not all of the accused priests were guilty so there had to be a balance between total transparency and protecting the lives of innocent priests.  Both sides had done things to cause mistrust and that included taking some of the bishop's own statements out of context to portray him as uncaring.  While many in America thought Cardinal Law was a fugitive from justice, Rome believed his resignation and reassignment to a lowly position was punishment.  Bishop O'Connell raised many interesting points I had never heard before because the Archdiocese's approach for so long has been to keep silent.

I suggested the Church do exactly what we were doing right now: have more open, honest and respectful conversations...with everyone.  Reach out to victims groups despite past suspicions.  Stop seeing websites like BishopAccountability.org and Boston Catholic Insider as threats because exposing corruption was their way of trying to make the Church stronger.  People respect honesty and when you speak the truth, you don't have to worry about what deceptive thing a spokesperson said three months ago.  I asked the bishop if he could go on local TV and talk about the sex scandal the way he was talking to me.  He said Cardinal O'Malley probably wouldn't have a problem with it but others who handled public relations might.  What a shame because I think in these times, there was a real hunger for honesty.

We spoke for two hours and during that time, Bishop O'Connell appeared to be very sincere.  He appreciated my strong faith but I told him my faith felt very weak.  I was angry with God for sending me down such an uncertain path.  Then I asked if anyone else had brought up similar concerns during his Q and A sessions at other parishes.  He replied, “You're unique.”  Before we wrapped things up, I wondered what would happen to the information he collected at these meetings.  The bishop said he didn't have the authority to change things on his own but if Cardinal O'Malley called on him, he would definitely share what we had discussed.  I found this to be somewhat disheartening.  How much longer would I have to wait for changes that should have happened many years ago?

They Put Hot Rod Flames In My Church!

St. John the Evangelist Church and School

My first spiritual home in the Catholic Church was St. John the Evangelist in Beverly, MA during the 1970s and 80s.  It was a neighborhood parish located far from the downtown in a box-like building attached to a Catholic elementary school complex all of which was constructed during the late 1950s.  In fact, the church itself should have been the school's gymnasium but original plans for a separate house of worship on the complex's grounds had been scrapped.  My older brother went to school here for a couple of years but my only experiences with the building's classrooms were the occasional craft fair and CCD (a.k.a. Sunday school).  I found it to be a fascinating place with "secret" rooms along dark hallways, a fallout shelter in the basement cafeteria and a set of locked doors at the top of the main staircase that supposedly led to an abandoned convent.

Since my father was raised Orthodox, he rarely accompanied us to church but his absence never bothered us or seemed out of place.  As a small child, I didn't have much of an understanding of the Mass.  You sat in a pew and kept yourself entertained while the boring grown-ups yammered on.  I loved placing money in the basket and looked forward to the part where everyone shook hands.  When people went up to get communion I knew Mass would soon be over but wondered what the host tasted like.  Back then, going to Church was just something you had to sit through but you never questioned going.  It was part of the Sunday morning routine and after Mass my mother might get a box of Munchkins at Dunkin' Donuts.

Over the years I had some very thoughtful CCD teachers and they helped me gain a better understanding of my faith.  Soon I was joining in on all those verses the grown-ups had yammered on about.  Following in the footsteps of my brother, I eventually became an altar boy.  While some of St. John's priests faded into the haze of distant memories, a few were unforgettable.  Our longtime pastor was the sometimes soft-spoken and sometimes gruff, Fr. George Everard.  He could get so worked up during passionate sermons it wasn't uncommon for him to thump the pulpit.  Fr. John Kiley was a master at playing the organ and often added his own intricate embellishments to the music.  He was also in charge of training the altar boys and treated us to an annual trip to Canobie Lake Park.  These were truly innocent times and we had such a high regard for our priests, they almost seemed otherworldly.

As my teenage years approached, doubt started to creep in.  It's only natural to ask the big questions:  Why do bad things happen to innocent people?  Is God really out there?  Where is my place in the world?  At a time when I needed consistency, guidance and fellowship there wasn't much at St. John's geared toward helping young people find their way.  I started to look at the aging population of our parish and was troubled by their overwhelming numbers.  To make matters worse, Fr. Kiley got transferred to a different parish in 1987 and Fr. Everard passed away the following year.  Their replacements left much to be desired.  One priest was so elderly and forgetful, his sermons just rambled on and on.  Our new pastor was very aloof and I no longer put these priests on the same pedestal as their predecessors.  This wasn't the only unwelcome change at St. John's, however.

For a box that was supposed to be a gym, the Church building itself had always been nicely decorated but for some reason it was decided that an extensive cosmetic renovation was needed.  A fundraising campaign was launched and before long workmen were tearing up beautiful woodwork and subdued purple draperies.  What we got after the renovation boggled the mind.  The wall behind the altar was painted in a sloppy crosshatching that looked like it was done by the 5th grade art class.  The sanctuary was now a semi-circle with a prominent raised section emerging from the ceiling.  On it they painted what was supposed to be the burning bush but the depiction was barely noticeable and resembled tumbleweed instead.  Taking up most of the space on this surface were several plumes of fire that were awful looking.  My brother said they resembled the flames you'd see painted on a hot rod.  After all the hype, our once beautiful church was laughable.

This was my first introduction to a twisted logic that seems to pervade the Catholic Church.  Instead of focusing on the things that really matter like fellowship, evangelization, or helping the poor, people convince themselves that painting a wall or replacing light fixtures will strengthen a parish.  I would argue these costly renovations ultimately do very little to attract people to the Catholic Church.  What I saw on display at St. John's was a complete waste of time.  Rather than an expression of God's love, it seemed to reflect someone's ambition.  The Bible says to give anonymously yet so often when these renovations occur, a commemorative plaque is installed in a prominent place so everyone can see all the donors' names.

If I suffered from a little bit of doubt a few years ago, it was now magnified many times over as a result of these disappointing changes.  Our church saw yet another new pastor but his most defining trait was constantly asking his parishioners for more money.  There was always some pet project that needed funding but very little was done to increase our faith.  My family was so fed up we eventually decided to give that big church downtown a try and it quickly became our new spiritual home.  I haven't set foot in St. John's since but a recent look at their website revealed those terrible renovations have been painted over with more subdued colors and accents in purple.  Seems like the church already had that a long time ago.