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Forgive me Father, for I have cringed.
Stepping from the sunshine into the 12:15 p.m. mass at St. Brigid's Church, it is the precise moment when Rev. Pedro Arana
is urging the worshippers to remember, in their prayers, "Archbishop Gervais and all the saints."
Oh, but how they do.
St. Brigid's is reeling, to be frank, from the news that Archbishop Marcel Gervais intends to close the church, founded
in 1890 to serve Lowertown's Irish Catholics, a faithful, if downtrodden, lot.
On May 7, Good Shepherd Sunday, of all days, the flock had some bad news from their spiritual leader, delivered in the
form of a letter full of hand-wringing.
The parishioners were to be carved up, some to Assumption Church, some to Notre-Dame Cathedral; strangely, nowhere did
the word "close" appear, though the import was clear.
Marilyn Donoghue is the chairwoman of the parish council and a parishioner for about 30 years. She was under the impression
in 2005 that St. Brigid's, while in need of basic repairs, had bought itself some breathing room from the archdiocese.
A meeting several days ago, attended by Archbishop Gervais, convinced her she was wrong. "Shock, absolute shock," was her
reaction at the news.
"I haven't heard (the archbishop) say anything about the spiritual state of the people. It's only about the real estate,"
said Ms. Donoghue. "This is our leader. People are devastated."
It is, already, a public relations bungle.
The impression from the archdiocese is that the building is in ruin. This is false. It looks great, in fact: its iconography
quite beautiful, its sanctuary spectacular, its pews in well-worn splendour.
It is true the roof is leaking over the head of St. Anthony -- on the east side, by the candles -- some of the stone needs
repointing and the interior needs restoration. It was ever thus with churches; rot marches on.
Surely, the archbishop sees the irony of the closing. Faith may be blind, but Catholics are not stupid.
The cathedral, rife with gold leaf and laden with 150 statues, has just undergone a restoration that cost in excess of
$10 million. This church is only blocks away.
St. Patrick's Basilica in Centretown, meanwhile, is in the midst of a multimillion-dollar restoration of its own.
And St. Brigid's? A poor cousin.
"I have come to the conclusion that it would be very difficult to justify spending the considerable amount of money that
would be necessary to effect a restoration of St. Brigid's Church, or any other inner-city Catholic church," the archbishop
wrote.
Really? "Any other inner-city Catholic church"? Sounds ominous.
What is further annoying about the St. Brigid's situation is a reminder the church is still run in a hierarchical, paternalistic
fashion. Let's see. We sit in pews, like sheep, kneel at the right time, hit the collection box and take direction from on
high.
The men in vestments, meanwhile, who don't own the bricks and mortar, get to decide which churches stay open.
Perhaps it's the latent Irish in me, but the whole thing is insulting. It seems a shabby way to treat the pact we made
with our ancestors.
"I think we need an out-and-out 'stop this nonsense,' " said Ms. Donoghue. "I just can't believe that God wants churches
to close."
The crazy part about the unfunded restoration at St. Brigid's is that the church did much of the damage to itself. Some
time around 1968, most of the interior, including at least five huge altar murals, were painted over.
The colour pattern on the vaulted ceiling was also covered in paint, as were other decorative patterns. The look inside
today is a little dreary, but some of the original glory is exposed on test areas. The potential is obvious.
In 1989, two of the huge murals above the altar, depicting the nativity and Christ's descent from the cross, were restored.
Last year, about $50,000 was spent to restore two more, showing St. Joseph and the Immaculate Conception.
The stained glass windows have beautiful imagery: Irish harps, a fiddle, three nails from the cross, a sacred heart, a
bag of 30 silver coins, among others.
On Sunday, meanwhile, the church had Confirmation and First Communion for a group of about 40 children. The church, said
Ms. Donoghue, was packed.
She said a parish committee has estimated the total repair bill at $1.8 million, with the most urgent matter being the
roof, to cost about $140,000. About $160,000 is already in a restoration fund, she explained. The rest of the work, she hoped,
could be phased over five years.
Ms. Donoghue was at the dentist yesterday when she came across a quote in a magazine. She was so seized with the sentiment,
she tore the page out and tucked it in her purse, only to pull it out for me.
"Businesses are amoral. They exist to make money for their shareholders and have great difficulty understanding social
responsibility."
Pray, in these sacred walls, we are not there yet. Quite simply, Archbishop Gervais, this closing must be stopped. There
are too many rich Catholics to allow it. It is only to make them pay.
Contact Kelly Egan at 726-5896 or by e-mail, kegan@thecitizen.canwest.com
