Jerry Moore: How Irish immigrants created sacred space

Recent stories of a theft from a local parish reminded me of how Irish people sacrificed so much to create their own sacred space. The lives of these immigrants were daily struggles for survival. But their determination to bring forth something magnificent became their message to the rest of the country that they may be poor, but their efforts will glorify God and inspire those who believe.

On March 10, police arrested two men for breaking into the Chapel of Divine Mercy adjacent to St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church in Canton in late January. Authorities charged the suspects with stealing three statues and a brass candle holder.

The plaster statues — one depicting Our Lady of Mount Carmel holding the baby Jesus, another depicting St. Joseph and the third depicting St. Therese of Lisieux — were found at Gunnison Chapel on the campus of St. Lawrence University. The candle holder has not yet been recovered.

Parishioners of St. Mary’s Church felt aggrieved by such despicable behavior. The church building is locked at night. But the chapel remains open 24 hours a day, which allows individuals to find solace in prayer whenever they want.

Not everyone can make it to the church during normal business hours. So being able to use the chapel any time of the day or night is a true blessing.

Providing this kind of access to the chapel is, in a way, an act of faith on the part of St. Mary’s Parish. Church officials opt to keep the chapel open as long as people who visit it follow the rules.

However, the theft of the statues and candle holder make members of the church feel betrayed. The thieves took advantage of their trust and demeaned the parishioners’ reverence for what they perceive to be a divine presence in the chapel.

It’s unfortunate that members of the church must endure this loss of intimacy when it comes to their fellowship. Like many other houses of worship, St. Mary’s in Canton was begun by Irish immigrants. And having some place they consider holy has been a part of the American experience of the sons and daughters of Ireland for hundreds of years.

It’s what lifted them up when times were most challenging. In this sacred space, they could ponder the mysteries of life. Even when they never received a clear answer to their questions, they felt spiritually liberated.

Church-building benefited these Irish immigrants in more ways than one. It gave them sanctuaries to pour out their hearts in the quietness of prayer.

This practice also helped them plant roots in a community. By breaking ground on a new religious facility, they told the rest of the world that they were here to stay.

Constructing churches and establishing parishes gave Irish immigrants a centralized place to carry out the crucial work of providing social services to those who followed them to the United States. The Great Hunger that plagued Ireland from the mid-1840s to the early 1850s — translated in Gaelic as An Gorta Mór — resulted in about 1 million deaths and forced another 2.5 million to leave for other shores.

This strained the available resources of those who oversaw relief efforts in our nation. Churches operated by those who understood the anguish of these refugees became essential to seeing they eventually became settled.

As the years passed, this process also assisted Irish people in battling the stereotypes that excluded them from many parts of the broader society. It showed outsiders that the Irish were as productive as anyone and that they intended to stay put.

Growing up in Chicago, I saw how this played out in a large metropolitan area. Ellen Skerrett, a writer and scholar I got to know while working at a weekly newspaper on the city’s South Side, explored this phenomenon in a 1996 article for the publication U.S. Catholic Historian:

“It should come as no surprise, then, that the Irish left their mark on the city not in words but in stone — Catholic churches, schools, convents, rectories, charitable institutions and hospitals. But instead of being applauded for their achievement, which amounted to reinvestment in the city, the Irish were criticized for spending too much money on ‘brick and mortar Catholicism.’ A [Chicago Daily] Tribune editorial in 1857, for example, minced no words in reminding readers that ‘nine-tenths of the beggars [in Chicago] are Irish’ yet the Irish bishop lived ‘in a house large enough for many mansions, which might be surrendered to the widows and orphans of his flock.’ The newspaper further suggested that ‘the unfinished Cathedral on the north side could be turned into a workshop for the unemployed.’ What critics … failed to realize was the genuine appeal of ‘brick and mortar Catholicism’ and its long-term positive consequences for individual congregations and the larger city. Because the Irish were often the first Catholics in a neighborhood, their churches and schools became important symbols of respectability and commitment. Much more than mere places of worship and education, these parish complexes proclaimed — in a very visible way — that the Irish were becoming devout urban dwellers.”

This bricks-and-mortar determination led the Irish immigrants to donate whatever they could each week to see their churches rise from the ground. And in one community after another across the United States, breathtaking edifices were constructed.

Two Chicago churches in particular come to mind: Church of the Holy Family, a gorgeous structure overseen by the Jesuits; and Old St. Patrick’s Church, considered the mother parish of the city’s Irish immigrants. Each one definitely sets the mood for deep spiritual reflection for the faithful.

The churches and schools established by these immigrants served as the foundation for Irish neighborhoods. This gave Irish Americans the domestic stability and social resources they needed to thrive in an environment that was often hostile to their presence.

They relied upon the same religious faith that saw their ancestors through periods of tremendous oppression. For a time, the British outlawed Catholicism among the Irish. Well, that was a cancel culture campaign that failed spectacularly, eh?

During this St. Patrick’s Day season, the parishioners of St. Mary’s should take the opportunity to appreciate what the Irish immigrants who came before them accomplished to construct their church. It’s unfortunate that thieves broke in and stole these items.

But their dismay at this act shows how devoted they are to their parish and what members of this church mean to each other. Like their ancestors, may they use this experience to tell the world that their commitment to their faith, their families and their community cannot be broken.

Jerry Moore is the editorial page editor for the Watertown Daily Times. Readers may send emails to jmoore@wdt.net.