The Churches of New York LXXIII: For when a Church dies….

For when a Church dies… (St Elizabeth of Hungary)

How many things are lost when a church closes! Catholics and non-Catholics alike lose the presence of a familiar landmark, anchoring the streetscape. The small church of St Elizabeth of Hungary presides over a tree-lined block of quaint buildings, which has miraculously survived intact to this day. Whereas elsewhere the inhumanly scaled towers of the financial and legal empires and the equally monstrous high-rises of the superrich increasingly dominate, here the tower of a small church still presides over walkups and modest storefronts. Above the façade rises a tower of unfamiliar form, mimicking those of the “Old country” like the Teyn church in Prague. It’s a church which is both part of the streetscape yet soars above it. St. Elizabeth’s assumes a guiding role in this block’s appearance while modestly remaining part of the community.

When a church dies a thousand memories disappear which link the rootless post -conciliar Catholics of today to the sacrifices of prior generations. Slovak immigrants – never as significant a force in New York as elsewhere in the US – organized St. Elizabeth as their first church in 1892 on the Lower East Side. That building still stands, and some of the furnishings in St. Elizabeth undoubtedly come from that church. Now Archbishop Corrigan of New York rejected the first suggested patron for the new parish (St. John the Baptist), and ordered it to named instead for St. Elizabeth of Hungary. As he rather insensitively put it, “as St Elizabeth was one of your national saints, you ought to be very glad to be placed under her invocation.” (Slovakia was part of Hungary for a thousand years) 1) And then in 1917 the parish moved to Yorkville and took over and redesigned a Protestant church.

After that, if one flips through the parish history, things settle down to the routine of parish life: meetings and banquets of the innumerable organizations that filled the calendar even of a small parish back then; fundraisers; the archepiscopal visits of Cooke, O’Connor etc. Beginning in the 1950’s rising rents gradually displaced the Slovak population. A more generic Catholic middle class – including many Irish – filled the church in what was steadily becoming a more affluent area. By 2000 some parishioners were not totally clear what was the language found on inscriptions all over the church – was it Polish? That problem will disappear – when this church dies the Slovak commemorations on the windows as well as the plaques of donors in more recent fundraising efforts likewise vanish.

And finally came the New York Catholic deaf community. For them St. Elizabeth was ideal for this apostolate – a small intimate space, where the signing could be easily seen. And, after all, a church for the deaf is even more important in the Novus Ordo rite than it would be in a Traditional community! Cardinal Cooke celebrated a mass for the deaf here in 1983. And so St. Elizabeth continued on, sharing the vicissitudes of the city and the neighborhood. Can we not forget how fourteen years ago, across the street from the church, candles flickered at night around a hastily improvised memorial to a local victim of 9/11?

But what will also be lost when St Elizabeth closes is not just a historical monument, but also an existing refuge of beauty and quiet in New York. Inside this church, the Slovaks in plaster created the appearance of a late gothic sanctuary out of hewn stone. The interior is admittedly just one large simple space. The statues are largely of plaster. I also concede that some of the 1950’s “Liturgical Movement” altars are mediocre. But if modest, all the decor and furnishings are tasteful and finely executed – the metalwork, the statues, the windows, the blue of the ceiling studded with gold stars. Rarely has so much been accomplished in a church with such little resources! It is quintessentially Catholic. There is hardly any other Catholic Church that so lends itself to meditation, especially when the lights are extinguished and the only illumination is the stained glass windows and the many (real)votive candles. The din of the city does not intrude into this space.

Yes, when a church dies so much that is unique, beautiful, precious and rare disappears! The great emperor Charles V said when he saw the new church that the canons of Cordoba cathedral had erected for themselves inside the old cathedral (a former mosque): “they have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something you can find in any city.” And yet in that case Christian worship continued! For what happens when a church dies is, above all, the loss of one more space consecrated to God. One more visual proof is offered (or so it would seem to the “man in the street”) that the forces of organized unbelief are prevailing, that the Christian Church is continuing its retreat toward oblivion. And what is obtained in return? A few million dollars that will be powdered away in the blink of an eye? A new set of luxury condos? A heritage of bitterness among the parishioners? Finally, do we need to point out the contrast between what is happening at St.Elizabeth’s to one of the most “marginal” communities in New York and what is being trumpeted nowadays by the Vatican?

(We should point out that “all is not lost.” St. Elizabeth has lodged an appeal with the Vatican that will be heard by September 1. In the meantime the deaf community will be moving to St Thomas More, another parish on the hit list that obtained a miraculous reprieve (after adverse commentary in the press). St. Elizabeth’s community had previously rejected the ludicrous suggestions of large churches like St, Monica’s or St. Patrick’s cathedral. St Thomas More is also a formerly Protestant building of modest dimensions.)

For a full description and video see HERE.