Chicago Catholics look to challenges of future
Loss of parishes, priests, cash inspires RenewMy Church
There was a time, Dominic Pacyga said, when Chicagoans introduced themselves with two pieces of information — their name and their parish.
Roman Catholic churcheswere the hubs of neighborhoods. As a teenager, ifPacyga fancied a young woman, he’d ask her: What parish are you from?
“And when she told me, I’d know whether she’d date me or not,” said Pacyga, now 69. “Because I’d know her ethnicity. I’d know her social class. I’d know howher fatherwould react.”
Experts say this is what Chicago’s Catholics have been known for, what made them unlike other notable populations of Catholics in America — a deep sense of identity tethering individuals to their parishes.
But across Chicago, the number of Catholics is dwindling. In just a few decades, those identifying with the faith have dropped by hundreds of thousands, according to data from the Archdiocese of Chicago, which covers Cook and Lake counties.
There are fewer priests. Less money. Fewer people in the pews on Sundays. The declines have prompted the archdiocese to launch Renew My Church, a multiyear restructuring program that will force many parishes to consolidatewithoneanother— or, in some cases, shut down altogether.
“When they close churches, they kill communities,” said Pacyga, a retired history professor from Columbia College Chicago, who grew up in the Polish part of Back of theYards attendingSacred Heart. Shuttered in the early 1990s, the site at 46th andHonore streets now lies in a part of town known for gang activity and gun violence.
“I think it does rip out the heart of a neighborhood,” Pacyga said. “Andwhenyourip out the heart of that neighborhood, it’s very hard to get that heart back.”
Asdioceses acrossAmerica face backlash from sex abuse scandals — including recent revelations that the number of clergy accused of sex abuse in Illinois is much higher than previously disclosed — and adapt to an increasingly secular society, Chicago’s church leaders hope to reanimate and rebuild the city’s Catholic population.
Cardinal Blase Cupich said change is inevitable. If the archdiocese doesn’t command it in an organized, disciplined way, parishes will eventually be forced to close as they run out of resources.
“Do we want the future to manage us,” he asked, “or do we want to manage the future?”
Catholics from across the Chicago area said theyunderstandthe need for a change. But with this acknowledgment, many add: “I just hope they don’t change my church.”
Pilsen parish faces an end
In Pilsen, the wooden pews in St. Adalbert are the color of molasses and mostly empty on a dreary Sunday morning. Once, congregations overflowedthe cavernous church on 17th Street. Today, a handful of the faithful cluster in the middle rows.
Parishioners often attendweekend services led by unfamiliar faces, a rotating lineup of priests brought in from other parts of Chicago. In 2012, the church lost its pastorandwasnever assigned a new one. The parish was eventually merged with St. Paul’s and St. Ann, other Catholic churches in Pilsen.
Then in 2016, the archdiocese announced plans to sell the cathedral-style church, news that sparked feelings of rage and sorrow among St. Adalbert parishioners, some of whom have ties to the churchdating totheearly 20th century.
The cherished place of worship, its spire visible from almost anywhere in the neighborhood, is listed for sale online.
“It’s heartbreaking,” said Anina Jakubowski, whose family, once Polish immigrants, attended the church for generations. Her mother fought to save the church whentherewas talk of closing it in the 1970s. Choking back a sob, Jakubowski said: “My mom, she was dying in bed. All shewould do is pray for this church.”
Four men carry long-handled wicker baskets lined with green cloth. They walk among the sparsely filled pews, gathering donations from those atMass that October morning. A sweet voice sings a familiar, mournful hymnas the parishioners of St. Adalbert scrape together their money and make an attempt to salvage their beloved church.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved awretch like me.
Fewer faithful, many fewer priests
There are about 51 million Catholic adults in the United States, according to the Pew Research Center’s 2014 Religious Landscape Study. That’s roughly 20percent of the adult population, making the Catholic Church the largest single religious institution in the country.
If all American ex-Catholics were to band together, theywould form the country’s second-largest religious institution. Overall, 13 percent of all U.S. adults are “former Catholics — people who say they were raised in the faith, but now identify as religious ‘nones,’ as Protestants or with another religion,” Pew researchers said.
Across the United States and in Chicago, the number of individuals identifying with most Christian denominations, including Catholicism, has dropped — particularly in recent years.
In 1975, the Chicago Archdiocese was home to 455 parishes, according to its annual data report. More than40years later, that number has shrunk by 24 percent. Further declines are likely.
While some of Chicago’s Catholic schools are thriving, boasting long waiting lists and rigorous admissions processes, others are withering. Since 1975, 221 elementary schools and 43 high schools have been shut down.
And along with the decrease in the number of the faithful, the change most responsible for forcing a restructuring of the archdiocese is the lack of priests. The number of priests has dropped by 41 percent since 1975, when there were nearly 1,300. Only 25 percent of current priests are 50 or younger, and the average age is 62.
Thedataseemto point toa grim future for the church, but Betsy Bohlen, chief operating officer for the archdiocese, said Chicago’s Catholics have reason to hope. The current restructuring process, perhaps long overdue, aims to adapt the parochial system so it provides ample resources to minister to the Catholic faithful.
“The way I would describe it is the church and culture around us has changed dramatically over the last half century,” she said. “And the way we think about parishes hasn’t.”
The Rev. Jason Malave, the cardinal’s delegate for Renew My Church, thinks Chicago — once the largest archdiocese in the United States, now ranked third behind Los Angeles andNewYork — has always practiced a distinct version of Catholicism, one he called “cutting edge.”
Still, the Chicago born-andraised priest acknowledges the coming reforms will cause some pain.
Many of the churches and schools shuttered are ones that struggled for years. They used all their money to pay the bills or fund upkeep of the aging buildings, leaving “nothing for our ministry, for our desire to pass on the faith for future generations,” Malave said.
To remedythis, the archdiocese introduced a number of benchmarks. A parish should have at least 800 people in the pews each weekend and an operating revenue of $750,000ormore to merit a full-time pastor. Elementary school enrollment should be at or above 240 students.
The benchmarks are not hardand-fast rules, but many of those failing to meet the criteria will have to make adjustments — sometimes major ones.
“The toughest nut to crack — especially in Chicago, because people love their parishes so much — is that we’re not parishioners of St. Clement,” said the Rev. Paul Seaman, pastor of the historic Lincoln Park church.“We are members of the Catholic Church of the Archdiocese of Chicago.
“Trying to help people have both the local and the wider vision, that’s the trick.”
City-based, diverse church— and then exodus
Starting in the mid-19th century, Catholic churches were beacons of light for the waves of immigrants arriving in the city. Priests and nuns became the mouthpieces for those adjusting to a new land and a new language.
“All ethnic parishes do this — they anchor the communities,” said Malachy McCarthy, a Chicago-based archivist for theClaretianMissionaries.
Chicago became known as the “Catholic city.” The religion permeated the political sphere, social circles, the school system. McCarthy was born in Boston, where he said people didn’t discuss religion with their neighbors. Chicago is different.
“My brother came to visit and was shocked by the Lenten specials the restaurant was offering,” he said. “To some, it’s just bizarre.”
Individual neighborhoods in Chicago contained as many as sevenCatholic churches, each one catering to a different ethnic group. It’s part of the reason that cars speeding down the Kennedy Expressway cruise past steeple after steeple after steeple.
Alongside Irish, German and Lithuanian churches, there were parishes for the Italians, theDutch and the Bohemians, just as there were later parishes for the Mexicans, the Cubans and the Filipinos. The new wave of immigrants arriving in the mid- to late 1900s — particularly Spanishspeaking immigrants — kept Chicago’s churches vibrant as other ethnic groups migrated to the suburbs.
In the 1993 book “Catholicism, Chicago Style,” historian Ellen Skerrett warned of coming change. The exodus to the suburbs left the city’s churches much emptier, and the demographic shifts forced a major round of restructuring.
“We had church infrastructure often in places where we don’t havemanyCatholics,” said Bohlen of the archdiocese.
The archdiocese responded by announcing an unprecedented wave of closings in the early 1990s. Although many understood the need for change, Skerrett said the scale of the closings came as a shock to those belonging to the 35 or so parishes shuttered.
“One of the unintended consequences of the recent archdiocesan closings is that Catholics — and Chicagoans at large — are beginning to understand the complex role parishes played in fostering dignity, respect and sense of place in neighborhoods throughout the city,” Skerrett wrote in 1993. “The line between stability and decay in urban areas has always been a fine one, and time will tell whether the loss of sacred space accelerates neighborhood change.”
Priests needed for sacraments, more laywork
Seaman stood in the back of St. Clement’s long after Sunday eveningMass had ended, smiling and shaking hands with his parishioners until the last one left. He’d been at St. Clement’s for only 16 months, but as pastor of the Lincoln Park church, he’s the glue that holds the parish together.
He sat down, finally, a bit tired but still smiling.
Pastors wear many hats; the number of lay ministers in the archdiocese has dropped, forcing them to take on responsibilities others may have handled in the decades since Vatican II.
“It canbelayeronlayeronlayer on layer of paperwork, which can be very energy-sapping,” Seaman said. “So for me, it’s absolutely critical that I stay in touch with people.”
The communities to which Catholic priests are expected to minister are growing as parishes merge. That can create new challenges.
“I have to be more sensitive to two communities,” said the Rev. Paul Cao, pastor of St. Mother Theodore Guerin, a new parish formed when the archdiocese
merged St. Celestine in Elmwood Park and St. Cyprian in River Grove.
The shortage of priests is a particularly dire challenge because they are essential for the Catholic celebration of Mass. According to the faith, only priests can consecrate the Eucharist, turning bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus.
A solution could be to attract more to join the priesthood. That’s a daunting task for the Rev. Tim Monahan, vocation director for the archdiocese.
“We’re living in a world where it’s laughable to be a celibate and follow Jesus and give him everything. My job’s harder in that sense,” he said. “Parents don’t want their kids to be priests.”
But Monahan is convinced Jesus still is calling people to take religious vows. “I’m not optimistic. Optimism is, I would say, a human attitude. And when you look at the numbers, there’s no reason to be optimistic,” he said. “But I’m hopeful — which is a theological or God-based attitude of saying God’s in control here.”
Will ‘pruning’ lead to growth?
When discussing Renew My Church, Malave likes to use the biblical concept of stewardship to help explain: Prune vines so they bear more fruit.
“We’re not being a good steward of the people and the parishes if we’re asking them to use everything they have to support this structure, and none of it’s being used for ministry or discipleship building or evangelization,” Malave said.
When Cupich came to Chicago to take over the archdiocese’s top position, he moved quickly to address these concerns, and others. Renew My Church was initiated in September 2015, less than a year after the Omaha, Neb.-born cardinal arrived.
“As far as I’m concerned, after Chicago it’s only heaven,” said Cupich, whohopes to retire in Chicago. The restructuring of the parishes and schools is forecast to take another six years, and the “spiritual renewal” will continue for long after that.
“I think Cardinal Cupich is a visionary. And he realizes maintaining the status quo will not keep us thriving for future generations,” said Michelle Wasielewski, operations director for DivineMercy, the name given to the parish that was formed when two churches on the North Shore merged last summer.
“We have to do something,” the 56-year- old mother of four continued, “to make people want to come back to the church or to re-engage with some level with the church.”
To make that happen, the archdiocese is using a different approach from past closures, Malave said. Deci- sions ultimately fall to the cardinal, but there are months of conversations with people in the pews.
Committees of pastors and parishioners, consisting of delegates from churches in geographic proximity to one another, meet with representatives from the archdiocese to discuss the realities their communities face and possibilities for change.
Each group provides a recommendation detailing possible scenarios to archdiocesan boards that advise Cupich. Then, theywait.
“Nobody likes uncertainty,” said 49-year-old Nick Andriacchi, a lifelong parishioner at St. Therese in Chinatown.
The archdiocese announced its plan for half of the South Side group covering Bridgeport, Canaryville and Chinatown in late November, but the fate of four parishes— including St. Therese — will remain up in the air for some time.
Just a couple miles to the north, atHoly Family on the Near West Side, the Rev. Mike Gabriel lookedaround at the warm light illuminating his church, the secondoldest in Chicago. He said he’s been using the word “overwhelming” to describe the Renew My Church process.
“It’s a new way of learning, and sometimes relearning. It also questions your faith and what your faith is in. And your love of your neighborhood and of your people,” he said. “When I was ordained, the setupwas all very parochial. It was all aboutmy parish. Nowwe’re being called to a much larger church.”
Schools compete but keep closing
At the end of Rachel Gemo’s 16th year as principal of St. Benedict Catholic Preparatory School, she’ll say goodbye to her last senior class.
The North Center school is shutting its high school because there’s no longer a market for a small secondary school that costs so much, Gemo said. Its facilities will become additional space for grammar school students.
Even though the number of Catholic schools in the Chicago area has waned over time, many — like St. Benedict’s elementary school — remain strong. The archdiocesan network of schools is the largest private school system in the United States, according to its website. Many referenced its well-attended, well-known high schools like St. Ignatius, Loyola Academy and De La Salle.
Helping these thriving schools continue is essential to church leaders. However, in addition to the challenges Chicago’s parishes face, Catholic schools must be able to reel in students despite a shrinking schoolage population, increased competition from public and charter schools, and rising tuition costs.
“It’s a concern,” Gemo said. “If tuition keeps going up, it’s going to be harder and harder for the middle class to afford.”
Catholic schools bolster parishes, just as parishes bolster schools. It’s a cycle, longtime Chicagoans said, because families seeking a good education often get drawn into the larger religious community — or stay away from parishes that have lost their schools.
“They want quality academics grounded in Christian values. That’s important to them,” Gemo said.
Bringing new faithful in
“Evangelization” is the word Chicago’s Catholics use most often when describing the spiritual renewal they hope to stir with RenewMy Church.
People use the word to mean different things, in different contexts. Some use it to discuss plans to reach out to those who have left the church. Others use it in a more traditional sense, referencing the act of converting non-Catholics.
In theory, bringing people back to the church should also drive new conversions. An archdiocese of “reanimated disciples” should be more comfortable sharing their faith, Malave said.
It’s not necessarily something intuitive for Catholics today, he added, for the religionwas always such an intrinsic part of the culture. Catholicism was commonplace in Chicago. It was not questioned.
“Things have shifted. Significantly. Andwhatwe find ourselves now in is not a world where everyone’s Christian, but a world where whoever is Christian almost has to share it in a more apostolic way,” Malave said.
That act — the act of evangelizing — can look very different, even from one neighborhood to the next.
AtHolyFamily, weddings are one of the parish’s best tools. Young couples who don’t belong to a parish often decide to join the church where they marry. At St. Therese, many nonCatholic families are introduced to faith when they send their children to the parochial school, which many choose for its Chinese identity. At St. Columbanus, parishioners host barbecues in the summer months and offer a free meal to anyone who walks by.
“I’m more optimistic about the future if there’s going to be fewer parishes throughout the archdiocese,” said the Rev. Matt O’Donnell, pastor of St. Columbanus inParkManor, an area that’s not predominantly Catholic. “If the fewer parishes are well staffed and well resourced and really focused on the mission of buildingcommunity and working for a better world, I think that more people willwant to be a part of those types of parishes.”
Chicago’s Catholics are grappling with new realities. They face a future that may contain fewer places of worship or fewer schools to send their children. Where laypeople may take on bigger roles in their parishes and different ethnic groups blend together.
With those changes come some adjustments. And some goodbyes.
When two or more parishes combine, they need a new name, a new seal, new website, new bank accounts. Staff members have to work to consolidate programs and services the parishes used to handle separately. Many changes won’t affect the average parishioner, but it takes time for the new to become the norm.
Church leaders said they don’t know how many buildings will close in the coming years, but when it happens, the properties will be sold. A couple dozen former Catholic churches, schools or convents are on the market now, according to Eric Wollan, director of capital assets for the archdiocese. A portion of the proceeds — and in most cases, a majority of the proceeds — fromthe sale of properties goes to the parish, he said.
St. Cyprian’s school in River Grove will likely be soldandturnedinto a library, although nothing is finalized yet. Those attending St. Adalbert’s in Pilsen still hope to reach some sort of compromise with the archdiocese to maintain it as an active church. The archdiocese said that would require millions of dollars in repairs, which parishioners offered to pay themselves. The fate of the church is in limbo.
It remains to be seen what effect the structural component of Renew My Church will have on the spiritual one. The archdiocese is hoping, and betting, that one won’t cancel out the other, Malave said.
A few priests and parishioners told stories about individuals — often older men or women with deep connections to a parish — who would stop practicing Catholicism if their church were to close. And then there are millennials who simply go to church less than their parents and grandparents.
But most maintain their faith, they added, even if it’s challenged at times. “It’s not that people’s hearts have changed,” Monahan said. “The context changed.”
Kathy Chappell used to attend St. Joachim’s in Burnside until the archdiocese announced plans to close it last winter. Now, she goes to St. Columbanus each weekend. Though change isn’t easy, Chappell said, it’s sometimes necessary.
“When you’re strong in your faith,” she said, “something like that isnot going to alter it.”