City Upon a Hill

As I drove across Stearns County to find my way to Spring Hill, Minnesota, I turned onto State Highway 4 heading south. I was awestruck. Off in the distance, I could see an amazing steeple with a white cross towering over everything around it. I weaved my way across the rolling terrain to get to Saint Michael’s Church, finally turning onto Church Avenue. There, I was greeted by a magnificent structure: Saint Michael’s Catholic Church. I immediately thought of the passage from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 5, verses 14 through 16:

14 “You are the light of the world. A city seated on a mountain cannot be hid. 15 Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but upon a candlestick, that it may shine to all that are in the house. 16 So let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.”
— Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition

As a nation, we are turning 250 years old this year, and we should all be proud of that. Yet, many of our local parishes that are 100-plus years old will never see that milestone the way things are going. Parishes were originally created to support the Catholic community—local people who are neighbors and friends. These churches were not formed for the convenience of the pastor, the priest, or the diocese, but for the convenience of the Catholic faithful to grow their community. It hurts me to see that building capacity is now being held against these rural communities. Spring Hill has a population of only 68, yet Saint Michael’s Catholic Church is large enough to fit 400 or more people. It is not the only church in rural Central Minnesota built that way; they all are. They weren’t built to just fit registered parishioners, but to ensure there was always enough room to welcome the stranger, or families and friends visiting for celebrations.

Just because an older church is currently difficult for people with disabilities to access does not mean it should be stripped of its sacred purpose—especially if the parish has the desire and ability to make accommodations in the future. If we deny them that chance and simply tear down Christ’s church, how many souls are we pushing away? We understand the hardship put on our priests, and we understand that sacrifices must be made. But our ancestors made immense sacrifices to build these so-called "buildings." These “buildings” are not just structures to us. These are our spiritual homes where we bring babies to be baptized, and where we grieve our loved ones as we send them home to God. It is where we come together in times of need, sorrow, and mourning, as well as times of great happiness and sacramental celebration. If we continue to surrender to the secular world, when do we lose our Catholic identity? Where does that line start, and where does it end?

I recently sat taking notes for the final financial council meeting for the parish of Saint Michael’s. Hearing the pain and suffering of the parishioners who are deeply concerned about their beloved church was devastating. The pain in Father Mitchell’s voice was clear as he stated he has no options left, delivering a harsh reality that we have to face as parishioners. The room was filled with questions of uncertainty and doubt about what the future holds, with very few answers given. May God bless Father Mitchell for all of the hard work he puts into every parish he shepherds, and may God bless all the parishioners of Saint Michael’s.

After the meeting, I took a short tour of the inside of the church. I was entirely taken away by the magnificent beauty of God‘s creation and how we are called to worship Him in this sacred spot. It completely breaks my heart to hear that this church no longer “qualifies” to be used for sacred worship. This rural community always finds a way to make things come together, yet now, the past sacrifices that built their church are being pushed aside as inconvenient. Consider the sacrifices rural communities across the diocese have put forth for years: losing Masses, losing parishes, and losing priests. I have a question for the big-city parishes that have only had to sacrifice a Mass or two: what are they willing to sacrifice to keep these rural churches open? After all, they are our brothers and sisters in Christ. As disciples, we are called to plant the seeds of faith in every town we reach. How can we call this evangelization when we are stripping the church out of communities where it has been the pillar for over a century?

As I left Saint Michael’s, I was in utter disbelief that this is our reality. I am not a writer by any means, but something has been calling on my heart to put pen to paper—well, fingers to keyboard. We never know when a soul will desperately need to meet Jesus, or what time of day someone will need access to a church to pray before the Tabernacle.

So, I encourage you: if you have never visited Saint Michael’s Catholic Church in Spring Hill, do so before it is gone. This amazing church, just like so many others, will unfortunately meet its end because of governance.

St. Michael the Archangel,

defend us in battle.

Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil.

May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,

and do thou,

O Prince of the heavenly hosts,

by the power of God,

thrust into hell Satan,

and all the evil spirits,

who prowl about the world

seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

Saint Joseph pray for us

God bless you all, and God bless Saint Michael’s Parish.

-- The Visiting Neighbor