Looking to fill the pews

Cathedral hopes cardinal's presence will attract a changed neighborhood

By Stephanie Ebbert, Globe Staff, 11/2/1998

he Cathedral of the Holy Cross on Washington Street in the South End rises 11 stories tall and stretches 364 feet from portal to high altar ornately carved from marble. Only two rows of columns interrupt the vast space, further emphasizing its emptiness: The Mother Church, the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Boston, is more of a shell than a shelter.

On a recent Sunday at the 11 a.m. Mass, fewer than 100 people dotted the long series of pews in the upper church built to seat 2,000. It was a scene that stood in stark contrast to the church in the basement, where two hours earlier about 300 parishioners gathering for a Spanish-language Mass warmly greeted friends with hugs. And less than a half-mile away on Harrison Avenue, hundreds packed the Jesuit Urban Center, known for extending a welcome to homosexuals and others who don't strictly adhere to the tenets of the Catholic faith.

The contrast has not gone unnoticed at the cathedral, which was refurbished last spring with a $1.5 million private gift. But now, Cardinal Bernard Law is trying to heighten the profile of the cathedral. Breaking with a longstanding tradition of celebrating weekly Mass in various parishes, he will say Mass at the 11 a.m. service every week, beginning Nov. 29 -- a move many hope will bring some back to the cathedral.

It is not just tepid faith the archbishop must battle, a crusade ongoing at Catholic churches nationwide. It's the changing face of a neighborhood, the South End, where diocesan officials say the number of Catholics has dwindled over time.

In recent years, the area has been swarmed by young professionals, few of whom put down permanent roots, who have driven up housing prices and driven out the ethnic, working-class families of generations past.

"Thirty to 40 years ago, it was mobbed every Sunday," said Bob Underhill, 70, the cathedral's program coordinator, who lives next door. "Now, people have lifestyles instead of faith. People who live in the South End don't go to church. People have dogs instead of children."

Fifty years ago, the cathedral had 9,214 parishioners, according to statistics provided by the Archdiocese of Boston; 334 babies were baptized, 162 couples were married, and 164 people were eulogized in the cathedral in 1948.

Now, with an estimated 4,000 Catholics in the parish, participation has dropped significantly. Just 39 babies were baptized in the cathedral last year, 15 brides walked down the imposing aisle, and 16 funerals were held.

"People don't die here," said Father Robert McMillan, director of the planning office for the diocese. "They come in when they're young adults and single. They will move out of the South End and probably buy a home in the suburbs when they settle down."

But the cathedral's loss of parishioners is not a new story; it's been a slow slide over the decades, said Thomas H. O'Connor, a historian, Boston College professor emeritus, and author of a new book, "Boston Catholics."

Built shortly after the Civil War to replace a smaller structure downtown, the cathedral came to the South End, as did many institutions at the time, because it was expected to be the next fashionable neighborhood, the alternative to Beacon Hill.

But the South End development was preempted by the Next Big Thing: the Back Bay, which was built on landfill and sprouted a Parisian-style boulevard and breathtaking architecture.

Taking a back seat as the 20th century approached, the South End had elevated train tracks built along its spine, Washington Street, passing in front of the cathedral. With time, the neighborhood would be covered in rail grit and grime, and working-class immigrants would fill the sprawling, Yankee-inspired brick homes that had been sliced into apartments and rooming houses.

The impending parish flight was exemplified in Cardinal William Henry O'Connell's own relocation of the diocesan headquarters and his residence from downtown to Brighton, O'Connor said.

"You have the demographics of the church institutions moving into the suburbs," O'Connor said. "In a way, the cathedral was allowed to languish."

Now, as the South End becomes something of the trendy enclave that was anticipated a century ago, Cardinal Law is reconsidering how to rekindle interest in his parish.

But it could be a tough sell in a neighborhood that is the locus of Boston's gay population. Here, many homosexuals who still profess the Catholic faith attend Mass at the Jesuit Urban Center, which is known for its community outreach ministries and for being gay-friendly.

"A lot of gay Catholics who wouldn't go to church at all come here," said one Jesuit Center celebrant, who declined to give his name.

For the cathedral, Underhill said, that often means "they only come here to picket . . . We have more people coming to Mike's Gym across the street."

Most of the cathedral's parishioners now are Latinos who attend the Sunday Spanish-language Mass in the cozier, if less elegant, lower church -- a two-tone yellow basement with bright red carpeting and an intricate wood carving backing the altar. Latino parishioners say they find it more intimate than the gaping upper cathedral; the basement has a much lower ceiling and better acoustics for the rapid rhythm of strumming guitars.

"I prefer it to be down here," said Carmen Rosado. "It's like a family reunion."

And, she noted: "The Spanish community is keeping the church going."

Weekday Masses are held in the 120-seat chapel at the side of the main church. Five years ago, Monsignor Frederick Murphy moved the main Sunday Mass out of that chapel -- a move he said stirred much pessimism. Now, he said, his English-speaking Sunday services are drawing a larger crowd but his total numbers remain static: A total of about 480 attend the two Sunday Masses at the cathedral, one in English, one in Spanish, in a structure almost as roomy as St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York, which seats 2,200.

Over the years, the cathedral has faced neglect of a different kind: maintenance.

"Money was there before, but it always went to something that seemed more urgent. At one time, we devoted money to Catholic Charities for housing for people with AIDS," said Diocesan spokesman John B. Walsh. "Finally, through some donations of individuals, while we weren't able to restore the place completely, it's in much better shape and more worthy of this function."

The cathedral was replastered and repainted last spring for the first time in years, lifting the veil of a dingy green paint. Fraying green carpeting was replaced with a rich burgundy. The high altar was relieved of an overhanging canopy, emphasizing the stretch to the ceiling.

But since the reopening last April, on Palm Sunday, attendance has remained low. Many hope to reverse that trend with the presence of Cardinal Law, who draws a sizable crowd when he presides at the cathedral on holy days or in special services, many of which are televised.

The donors of the $1.5 million gift to refurbish the church, Frank and Eileen Ward of Canton, who are friends of Cardinal Law, agreed it would be a shame for the work to go unnoticed.

"We would truly like to see more attendance back at the cathedral ourselves," said Eileen Ward. "I don't know if that will ever happen."

This story ran in the Boston Globe on 11/2/1998.
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