she broke your throne, and she cut your hair...

I haven't addressed the Church Closing Crisis in a while. The following is a speech I wrote and gave to the Appeal Committee at St. Jeremiah:

Eighty-two.

You’ve all heard that number before. You know its significance, its destructive properties. You’ve read about it in the papers, week after week. You’ve listened to the reports on the news from around the state. You attended the Mass on the Common; sat through the drizzle and listened to the homilies from Father Bob Bowers, and heard Father Ron Coyne speak.

You also know who I am. My name seems to have gotten as much print lately as Archbishop O’Malley’s has. I read. I sing. I have taken photographs of my sister’s First Communion. I have stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Bishop Edyvean on my Confirmation. I have watched as my father completed the RCIA process and was Confirmed.

I have written in the past about my indignation. I have spoken with many of you about my frustration. And I have participated with some of you in rebellion. But tonight, I’m here about my fury.

I am furious that the establishment has chosen to ignore our cries for explanation. I am furious that Bishop Lennon and Archbishop O’Malley can stand before the press and lie through their teeth about why these parishes have to close. I am furious that people outside our situation don’t understand the impact of telling a devout parishioner, “You can’t worship here any more. Go somewhere else.” And I am furious that the local vicar, a man who is supposed to represent the needs of all the parishes under his command, can betray us.

But most of all, I am furious that you are doing nothing to stop them.

How dare any bishop preside over a parish’s last Mass? I attended the final Liturgy at St. Ann University Parish on Sunday, and it took all the strength I had in me not to walk out. I will not be put in that situation again.

How dare the Archdiocese bite the hand that feeds them? We have, time and time again, given more than was asked of us. Money. Time. Commitment. I do not have the patience or the resolve to listen to their spin any longer.

How dare we sit here and pretend that Father Ron’s reassignment is anything but an act of appeasement? This system is scared out of their minds that every parish with any testicular fortitude will sit down and refuse to leave. They think they are throwing us a bone – how wrong they are.

I reject their deal. On the evening of December First, I will take my seat in that Church and I will stay there until they listen to me. I don’t care if I’m the only one, or one of a hundred, I will not be moved from my home.

Archbishop, you have no right to tell me what to do. I am a Roman Catholic, a parishioner of St. Jeremiah Church, and I will not be instructed to leave this building.

You think I’m an issue now? Try me. You think I can be vocal? Give me a reason to speak. You think I’m a radical? You have no idea how radical I can be. And if I am angry now, you will soon see my wrath.

I have been silent since my letter. I was not about to draw undue attention to this church. But if I am the only one willing to speak, so be it. I will be your voice, Lord, though I may be slow of tongue. Lead me to the Promised Land.

I can accept that from my position, it is difficult for me to know all that goes on here on a weekly basis. I can accept that work may prevent many of you from giving this all the effort it deserves.

But I cannot accept that we are doing the best we can. I cannot accept Father Ron’s transfer as ‘good enough.’ I cannot accept the loss of this church. There is no failure in our lexicon, only delayed success.

And successful we shall be. We are a group of ‘bad Catholics.’ And before this is over, we will be the worst Catholics ever assembled.

I am furious that you are not.

Eighty-two parishes are closed or destined. But stay the hand of the executioner we will, until they hear our cry, “Justice!”