One of my happiest duties as a bishop is to dedicate a new church. I’ve done it, oh, maybe eight times in my little-more than four years as your pastor. The church is new and sparkling (if usually only half-paid off!), the folks are proud and beaming, there’s a tangible spirit of hope and confidence about the future, the liturgy for the occasion is rich and moving … it’s paradise!

But, one of my saddest duties as a bishop is to close a church! Thank God, this does not occur that often, but, in these times of demographic shifts, planning and mergers, and building new, larger church buildings that render an old structure obsolete, sometimes pastors and people have to come to the tough decision that they have to simply close the church building down — remove the holy Eucharist, sacred books, vessels, statues, images, and even the windows, if possible — ask me to declare the edifice “reduced” to a regular building; and then either use it for alternate purposes, sell it, let it stand, or level it. All of this is usually done with little fanfare.

I wonder if that’s the best way to do it? That building was the spiritual home for a supernatural family. Generations sacrificed to build it and keep it up, often actually constructing it with their own hands. And sacred events — christenings, first communions, confirmations, weddings, funerals, Sunday Mass — all occurred within those consecrated walls.

Simply to declare it closed, empty it out, and lock it up just does not seem to do it justice. Does not the parish need time to remember, to smile, to cry, to grieve? Yes!

That’s why I’m itchin’ to tell you about last Friday, the Feast of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, when I was invited to the “closing Mass” at St. Michael Church in Beaver Dam. Three churches have been part of Beaver Dam’s history: St. Michael, St. Patrick, and St. Peter. A number of years ago, as part of our ongoing Planning Process here in the archdiocese, those three historic parishes became one, under the patronage of St. Katharine Drexel, but kept the three church buildings.

The painful decision was then made, a couple of years ago, that, given the high cost of keeping all three sites open, with fewer priests, and with the desire to bring all the Catholic community in Beaver Dam together as one each Sunday for the Eucharist, it would be best to close the St. Michael site.

That hurt. St. Michael is a beautiful church, high on a hill, home especially to proud Polish immigrants and their children and grandchildren for 130 years. There was some anger, yes; there was some criticism of the decision, sure; but there was most of all a strong faith that confessed, “What’s important is not this church building, as much as we love it and will miss it, but the Church. We’ve been through changes before, and we’ll go through this one.”

But, those brave people needed to say “good-bye.” Their sensitive parish priests, Fr. John Schreiter and Fr. Carlos Flores, decided, with the support of the parish, to have a week of remembering and farewell, to conclude with Mass on the Feast of St. Michael. To lead that week they invited a priest-son of the parish, Fr. Michael Hammer, whose love for St. Michael is second to none.

The week was tender, touching, moving, tearful, led masterfully with different prayers and devotions each evening by Fr. Mike. Then I showed up Friday.

I must admit I had a bit of apprehension as I showed up. Would there be protests? Angry, dour faces? Nobody there?

As I sneaked in the side door I beheld a packed-church, who rose to their feet in applause! Fr. John, Fr. Carlos and Fr. Mike were joined by Fr. John Radetski, another priest-son of the parish, and Fr. Mike Wild, the dean. Deacon Randy Wells, two women religious — one a daughter of the parish and the other a former teacher there — past and present parishioners, filled the historic structure on its final grand evening.

Hymns and prayers were offered in Polish, Spanish, Latin, and English. Children dressed as St. Michael, St. Patrick, St. Peter, and St. Katharine Drexel processed in and out. The announcement was made that the famed stations of the cross and mini-baldachino above the old altar would be moved to St. Katharine Drexel Church.

At the end, there was not a dry-eye when I removed the Blessed Sacrament from the tabernacle, blew-out the sanctuary lamp, and we walked down the aisle for the last time.

Tears, memories … in abundance. But a resilient faith to keep going even more in evidence!

A church — small “c” — changes addresses, locations, style, architecture, population, and can even cease existence, as St. Michael did Friday.

But, the Church — capital “C” — remains ever alive, always there, ever beckoning, forever embracing, constantly sanctifying, serving, and teaching — and never closes, because we have the word of The Word that he will be with us always, even until the end of the world, and that even the gates of hell will not prevail against us.

That resilient hope was sure evident Friday night at the last Mass at St. Michael in Beaver Dam … Sto lat!