I've been swallowing a pill that I knew was coming and have spent the past five years or so avoiding: St. Catherine's closing. There are tons of pros, tons of cons, tons of opinions and tons of facts. And I don't mean this post to really get into any real, in depth analysis of any of those things.
What I wanted to get off my back, though, was that I'm hurting a bit over it. Nothing to be worried about; no need for suicide watch. But over the past week, I've been in a really pensive, deliberating, nostalgic mood. To sum it up, it's been downright sucky. And it's all-in-all, a personal coming-to-accept-it experience. It prompted dinner with Natalie, Carrie, Geoff and Amelia, but dissuaded me from attending any of those "info" meetings. I can handle numbers and logistics, so when I need them, I'll turn to them, I thought. The personal truth in this all is that St. Catherine's is home for me in a number of ways: coming of age experiences, believing in faith experiences, friends, family, love. At the same time, I know that, but consolidating a worshipping spot into one church building, the whole community will benefit in the long run (the whole John-esque gathering/communion experience).
What I'm experiencing, though, is what happens when you've stocked so much in the material place: you leave yourself open to being let down. This isn't new, but as it relates to Charlestown, I think me, personally, I let this whole gentrification thing get wrapped up in the personal and the emotional and the nostalgia -- the wants, the needs, the feelings, the longings. I think I knew it when the Boys' and Girls' Club did the whole Piece of Peace book back in the 90s. [Related link: 9 Lexington Street] And now, Karl Rhaner and the wisdom and lessons from undergraduate catholic philo classes becomes useful again. I'll use Nicole's Song [by Virginia Coalition] to get through the thinking, I guess.
So now I've been forced to give advice/
On a matter in which now I've become involved/
Should I stop my thoughts and close my eyes/
Play the lover's role in the beggar's disguise/
And beg God to give me/
Solomon's wisdom
In the midst of this, my brother Sean contributed a decent piece to the January 17, 2008 edition of the Charlestown Patriot-Bridge, which I'll just copy and paste here:
The Spirit of St. Catherine's
By Sean Boyle
To the people of the one-square mile that we know and love: In February, my church, Saint Catherine of Siena, will close.
When our ancestors emigrated from Ireland and other countries, they found it hard to be accepted. In storefronts, there were signs that read “No Irish need apply,” and riots broke out, one of which led to the burning of the Ursuline Convent in Charlestown. But our ancestors made Charlestown their home, street by street, house by house. This became our town, where we celebrated our culture, spoke our native tongue and created everlasting traditions. Charlestown was home to the second Catholic church in all of Massachusetts, Saint Mary’s. When our ancestors came here, the only thing they had that kept them going was their faith. It was the only thing in America that they could claim was theirs. As years went on, we built three vibrant Catholic parishes, we had a tight-knit community, traditions that would hopefully never end and our own unique culture in America and Boston.
But as 2008 arrived, I realized that traditions are disappearing, culture is being lost and that once tight-knit community is breaking and now forming a committed community made up of old and new residents. I am not old enough to remember the “old” Charlestown, but I hear stories about it all the time — stories of when the Bunker Hill Day Parade was the biggest day for Charlestown, with parties in every house and everyone filled with pride and happiness. Now, on the beloved parade days, I see fewer parties, fewer American flags waving in the crowd and streets that barely have any spectators. I hear stories of mothers, 400 deep, praying the rosary on Bunker Hill Street and marching against forced busing, marching for the love of their children and a cause that was worth fighting for in their eyes. I hear stories of the whole town watching Charlestown High’s football games, how Charlestown had the most pubs and sent the most people to World War II than any other one square-mile town in America. Other stories tell of looping, the Charlestown Rose, Ancient Orders of Hibernia, the Knights of Columbus, funeral marches with Irish women wailing, Saint Catherine’s “little Townies color guard,” mothers sitting on the stoop, CYO meets, stores and pubs that are gone, stories of the Bunker Hill Hillbillies and the Majestic Knights, tournaments and memorial services and, most of all, packed Masses.
When I was in eighth grade, I started an organization called FACES – Fill A Church Every Sunday. This was when Saint Catherine of Siena Parish was supposed to close (before it merged with Saint Mary’s). I was desperate and I wanted to save my parish, my church and my faith. I went from door to door in Charlestown; I got doors slammed in my face by people whom I knew, people who did not bother to answer and others that really did not care about church. I asked people to come to church and told them that my goal was to invite people to church and have them invite other people in order to fill a pew and, eventually, a church. I told them the Mass schedules at Saint Francis de Sales, Saint Mary’s and Saint Catherine of Siena. People used excuses such as: “I have a hockey game to go to,” “It is too far,” “I don’t have time,” “It is boring” and “I have to watch my television show.” My argument was all the hours of the Masses were spread over different hours of both Saturday and Sunday, so maybe you can make time. “Why can’t people spend an hour with God?” I thought to myself. I eventually gave up and lost hope. I was sad because this was a tradition that had been going on in the world for 2,000 years, a symbol of hope for our ancestors when they came here. This was our ancestors’ blood and sweat being thrown out the window.
I yearn for that old sense of community. I yearn for that tight-knit community, I yearn for those disappearing traditions, and I yearn for the culture we bestow upon ourselves. How can a shamrock be the town’s symbol when no one goes to church anymore? Do people forget what the shamrock symbolizes? Do people know why they’re wearing a Townie sweater with a big shamrock on it? Well, if you’ve forgotten what it symbolizes, here it is: Saint Patrick used the shamrock to show the Irish the sacred Trinity, three in one, one in three. The shamrock will be a tradition that will live on forever and a sacred symbol that represents Ireland and our faith.
To the People of Charlestown: WAKE UP! We are losing traditions and culture that we created and fought for. New traditions are being created, which I hope never die. But we must keep our old traditions going and teach them to future generations and future neighbors, because without the memory of the past, we are nothing. Traditions, such as passing a church or hearing an ambulance and then making the sign of the cross, hearing the church bells ring and not complaining or even simply going to church, are essential. These traditions are what make us who we are, a people who lived here for generations, a people who have just moved here, a people often misunderstood and put down, a people who fight for what they believe in, a people who have strong traditions and a historic past, a people who call themselves Townies and a people who live in a diverse, vibrant, urban and tight-knit community. We (old and new residents) know what it means to be from Charlestown. There is always a sense of pride and comfort in your heart. But we need to keep traditions going — keep the faith, keep the community and keep our culture, as well as share it.
As much as I do not want Saint Catherine’s to close, as much as I want to fight to keep it open, I know it is for the better. I am grateful for memories like Fr. Coyne’s Charlie Brown robes, midnight and six o’clock masses, CYO meets, shows and all the memories from Charlestown Catholic. I hope that I am able to raise my children in a town with never-ending traditions, with the people whom I knew when I was growing up and the new residents, and that sense of a tight-knit, diverse and unique community. I invite you all to attend mass at either St. Mary-Saint Catherine of Siena churches or Saint Francis de Sales Church. I invite you, Charlestown – both old and new residents, to keep the tradition of going to Mass alive. I invite you to keep other traditions alive and even though our neighborhood is changing before our eyes – to give new neighbors a warm welcome to “God’s country” and pass/share our traditions on to them.
I extend a warm welcome to the people of Charlestown to celebrate the last Mass of Saint Catherine of Siena Church on Feb. 10 at 11 a.m. (There will only be one mass for Saint Mary-Saint Catherine of Siena Parish on that Sunday). Join the people of Saint Catherine’s in tears, laughter and hopefulness, even if you are from a different church. I hope that through out the years the “spirit of Saint Catherine’s” will live on forever in this town. I also hope that more people keep the tradition of celebrating the Eucharist alive. Let us be united in Christ and united in Charlestown, and let us show our ancestors that we did not give up on the faith they once had.
Sean Boyle is a 16-years-old Charlestown native, and a junior at Boston College High School.
So where does this leave us? I'll quip from Meredith Grey's clichéd narration at the end of the season premiere of Grey's Anatomy: Change. We don't like it. We fear it. But we can't stop it from coming. We either adapt to change or we get left behind. ... It hurts to grow. Anyone who tells you it doesn't is lying. But here is the truth: sometimes, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Sometimes, change is good. Sometimes, change is everything.
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