Nashua Telegraph, NH
Jan 23 2005
Time for `parishioners’ to let go of St. Francis Xavier Church
A Telegraph Column By Paul Sylvain
Can I hear an `amen’?
At least, that was my response upon reading that on Jan. 7,
Hillsborough County Superior Court Judge William Groff essentially
gave the Diocese of Manchester the green light to proceed with its
sale of the St. Francis Xavier church and property to local real
estate developer Vatche Manoukian.
Manoukian intends to then donate the church and property to the
Armenian Orthodox Church, thus complying with the terms of a
119-year-old deed in which The Jackson Co., which for many years
operated the Jackson Mills, stipulated in its agreement to donate the
Chandler Street property that it be used solely for religious
purposes.
While a sale to Manoukian would not in itself necessarily meet the
letter of the original deed, the property’s subsequent transfer to
the Armenian Orthodox Church, does. What continues to baffle and
bewilder me is how a small core of so-called `faithful parishioners
of St. Francis Xavier’ can continue to cry foul over the deal.
Does the deed limit the property’s use only to Catholic religious
observances? Apparently not, and in my book a religious observance is
a religious observance is a religious observance.
I mean, Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Southern Baptist, Anglican,
Congregational and all the others, are, to the best of my knowledge,
recognized religious denominations.
Plunk any of these groups down inside this building, sing out a few
`alleluias,’ `amens’ or `praise the Lords’ and, by God, it’s a
religious observance, is it not?
So can someone explain to me what is so difficult for some of these
`faithful parishioners of St. Francis Xavier’ to understand about it?
And while we’re at it, let’s hear another `amen!’
I, like my parents and grandparents before them, also were `faithful
parishioners’ of St. Francis Xavier. It was a grand old church and I,
like so many others, eventually had to face with great sadness the
day when it closed for good.
The time to reverse the decision has long since passed, and time and
the elements continue to take their toll on this French Hill
landmark.
The fact that Manoukian and the Armenian Orthodox Church are willing
to buy into this property, restore the church, and put it back into
religious use should be cause for celebration.
Many similarly grand old churches have wound up at the losing end of
a wrecking ball.
Parishioners from the former St. Francis Xavier have scattered far
and wide. There’s still pain and a great sense of loss over what used
to be, but most of us have come to accept the reality and have moved
on.
A few weeks ago, I enjoyed lunch with Gerry Leblond, who served as
music director at St. Francis for 25 years, and used to do the most
amazing things on the church’s huge pipe organ.
He is continuing his music ministry at another parish in another
town, but he will be the first to admit it’s not the same. Nothing
ever could be.
I, too, have wandered a bit trying to find that same sense of
`family’ and belonging that we all felt at St. Francis Xavier.
I may be one of the fortunate few to say I may have finally found it,
but 23 miles away, at Holy Angels in Plaistow, where my music
ministry also continues to grow.
Of course, the fact that the pastor there is the Rev. Marcel Martel,
who served St. Francis Xavier until shortly after the decision was
made to close it, has made that new connection easier.
But people like Gerry and me, and so many other former faithful
parishioners, came to realize a long time ago that opening the doors
again today or tomorrow will not guarantee a return of all that once
was part of the St. Francis Xavier experience.
I also have come to realize, although I resisted it for a long time,
that all that stone and mortar is little more than a shell, albeit a
huge one.
Ultimately it is the people who bring warmth, life and spirit to a
church. All the rest is just so much window dressing.
I met a semi-retired priest in Texas a few years back, and he told me
a story about how he had served as an Army chaplain in Vietnam. He
was with a group of soldiers on routine patrol when they entered a
recently liberated village.
Immediately the villagers recognized this man as a priest and,
through an interpreter, asked him to celebrate a Mass for them.
Most had converted to Catholicism under the regime of the French, but
had not shared in a Mass for many years under the rule of the
communists.
`I didn’t know what they were saying,’ the kindly priest said, `and I
doubt they understood me, exactly, but there was a sense of unity and
spirit as I said my parts in English, and they replied in Vietnamese.
There was such joy in their faces.’
The patrol eventually moved on, and later he learned that the
communists had returned, and destroyed the village, assaulting and
killing most of its men, women and children.
`I knew then,’ the priest reflected, with tears in his eyes, `that I
had been placed there at the moment in time, to serve the needs of
these poor villagers, and to celebrate their first and, for many,
their final Mass in so many years.’
Did he or the villagers need a huge, granite edifice to mark the
celebration? Did the fact that their `amens’ and `alleluias’ were
said in an open space within a jungle village make it less meaningful
than one said in some multimillion-dollar holy palace?
Again, I say `amen’ to Judge Groff, and also to the Probate Court
judge who, last November, likewise ruled that the proposed sale meets
the stipulation of the deed.
Give up the fight, guys, and don’t count me among the faithful
parishioners whom you say are `disappointed the diocese has defaulted
on its commitment to French Hill.’
How can anyone living on `The Hill’ and under the shadow of St.
Francis Xavier Church be disappointed, especially when there’s a real
likelihood this marvelous building will be repaired, preserved and
placed back into religious use?
Let the sale go through, and may the bells ring out again loud and
strong from its tower.
And to that, I say, `amen.’
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress