I’m not a parishioner of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton parish, but I agree with the members there who argue that money spent on St. Mary of the Assumption Church would be a better use of funds than at Sacred Heart, the home church of the parish.
Sacred Heart needs obvious cosmetic work, if not structural repairs, and selling its site on King Street would be far easier to market as a large commercial property than St. Mary’s location at 3 Elm St., in the heart of a tight downtown.
Unless, of course, St. Mary’s church is torn down. And that would be a sin.
St. Mary is strikingly beautiful, and as much a part of the architectural fabric of Northampton as Forbes Library, the Academy of Music, First Churches, College Hall at Smith College, and St. John’s Episcopal. Why abandon this majestic building with its soaring spires, visible from various entry points to the city, a symbol of the first Catholic immigrants’ true arrival and acceptance in Hampshire County?
If St. Mary had not been there in the late 1980s and early 1990s, I’m not sure that I would have made it back to the church. But St. Mary was there, and one day, drawn by personal history and the commanding and beneficent beauty of the place, I walked in for a Sunday night Mass and I’ve been with the church ever since, along with my wife and two children. That’s one family brought into the fold because of the church’s presence in the center of downtown. How many others?
Living nearby, St. Mary’s Church was a looming presence every time we ran errands to Serio’s or State Street Fruit Store or ate at the India House or saw a film at the Academy — you couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to step inside — and there was a sense of being in a culturally rich village that has sadly been diminished by St. Mary’s closing. Now, the parish has gone off to King Street, like a hardware store or office products shop in search of more parking.
Not having the Roman Catholic Church present on Main and Elm streets, alongside the Edwards Church, First Churches and St. John’s Episcopal — all of them strong representations of faith (and architecture) in a well-visited county seat — is the loss of an evangelization of another sort.
The Roman Catholic Diocese of Springfield should think twice about hiding its light under a bushel.
Jack Farrell
Conway