ARTICLES
March 2002 ARTICLES
Contents © 2002
by Jim Holman.
All rights reserved.
Vain, Vapid, Fatuous, Inane, and Patronizing
St. Charles Borromeo Parishioners Fight Renovation
By F. Michael Forrester
Church renovation, conjuring ideas of peeling paint, squeaky pews and endless parish council meetings debating their remedies, is, of course, far from newsworthy material. But, add the ingredient of one self-appraised "designer and consultant for worship environments" -- Father Richard Vosko -- and you've got yourself a story.
Built in 1956, St. Charles Borromeo in North Hollywood is an excellent example of the Mission Revival Style. With its imposing fixtures, heavily carved doors and confessionals, and traditional cruciform layout, it attracts many people from outside the parish. The church, also, is not without its celeb status. It is frequented by Bob Hope and his wife Dolores. Others include actor Eric Estrada ("Ponch" on TV's "CHiPS"), and "Jeopardy!" quiz master Alex Trebek; even Andy Garcia was once spotted attending an Ash Wednesday service. Paul Salamunovich, conductor emeritus of the Los Angeles Master Chorale, and choral director for many Hollywood films, is organist for the 7 a.m. Mass, and directs the globally renowned St. Charles Choir at the 10 a.m. Mass. He has been parish music director for over 50 years.
"Being an excellent example of the Mission Revival style," says Joseph Gonzalez, official spokesman for the St. Charles Borromeo Preservationist Guild, the church "is a central element of the architectural history of Southern California. In a city that is starved for a sense of history, St. Charles has provided a point of reference -- one that is both real and symbolic. The church complex has been published in studies of Los Angeles architecture and is recognized as one of the most beautiful ecclesiastical structures in Los Angeles." Gonzalez, who holds a PhD in renaissance history from UCLA (his dissertation was on ritual), and who has been a parishioner of St. Charles for over thirty years, is particularly concerned that any changes to the interior design of the church will be incongruous with the rest of the building. "The quality of the church architecture," said Gonzalez, "is only surpassed by the beauty of the church furnishings which form a harmonious whole with the church structure. The altar is graced by a spectacular carved wood baldachino, which is at least 20 feet high. With the frescos that depict the stations of the cross and the beautiful stained glass windows, St. Charles forms an integral whole. It is a work of art and a spiritual refuge of incredible beauty that should not be sacrificed to any individual's whims -- however well intentioned they may be."
On Tuesday, January 15, 7:30 p.m., I took my seat in the church for the scheduled talk from Father Richard Vosko entitled "Imagining St. Charles Borromeo." The pastor, Father Gallagher, who commissioned Father Vosko, was darting to and fro, vigorously greeting his parishioners as the numbers steadily trickled in. To Father Gallagher's dismay, each parishioner had in his hands what looked like a program for the evening's events -- except it wasn't. Handing out these pamphlets was a small group of parishioners standing behind a table outside. Draped over the sides of this table were banners that revealed their identity as the "St. Charles Borromeo Preservation Guild." The guild, an establishment only days old, was conceived the Sunday before, after Father Gallagher announced Father Vosko's involvement in renovating St. Charles. Entitled "Fact Sheet: Father Richard Vosko," the pamphlet had, apart from several listed facts on Father Vosko, several disparaging articles on his abilities, intent, and history.
Inside the church, a woman, seated in the pew in front of me, called out to Father Gallagher as he passed by, and, referring to the unofficial "program," asked Father "Have you read this trash?" "I have, Sister," said Father Gallagher, "and I'm excited about tonight. So is Father Dick."
At precisely 7:30 pm, Father Gallagher walked up to the pulpit, and welcomed the almost one-hundred-strong audience. "This is NOT a speak-up session!" he said; then, emphasizing each syllable, "This is a lis-ten-ing session. Pencils and paper will be handed out for any comments or questions you may have. At the end of the talk, they will be handed to Father Richard Vosko and, if he feels he is able, he will answer them."
The ensuing talk from Father Vosko, accompanied by slide projections, seemed to the attendees designed deliberately to obfuscate and confuse. Not once did he make any direct suggestion for St. Charles Borromeo, despite the name and proposed purpose of the talk. The first projected image was of a satellite in space. "In the old days, everything used to be out there," said Father Vosko, "but, with man landing on the moon, and the discovery of other universes, our conception is no longer that everything is out there, but WE are out there." From this followed a barrage of images depicting other religions, including shamans climbing a formidable hill in Nepal. All of this was visual stimuli for some difficult-to-understand concepts: how we all "dream of a better life journey," that the Church is nothing more than "a metaphor of the individual," and that "the automobile has compromised our faith," the latter being accompanied by a picture of downtown traffic in Los Angeles.
Our eyes then met countless images of church exteriors from all over the world, ending with a modern church, somewhere in America, later described by a parishioner as "an orange shoe box."
Our first chance to "imagine St. Charles Borromeo" was given to us when the Father Vosko moved on to baptismal fonts. "Baptism means immersion", he said, "which means the whole body submerged under water." Suggesting that traditional baptismal fonts, like the one at St. Charles Borromeo, are inadequate for such a need, he showed us images of large bathtub-sized fonts, complete with their own working fountain representing "living water."
It was at this point in the talk that the projector refused to move on to the next slide. After the many attempts to fix the problem failed, Father Vosko proceeded with the rest of the talk by slotting the slides in manually. Before doing so, however, he apologized to the audience: "I'm afraid I'm going to have to do this the old-fashioned way." Upon which, one of the parishioners interjected, "That's what we want."
Well into two-thirds of the talk, Father Vosko at last projected an image of his own work -- Our Lady of Lourdes, Oakland, California. Up until this time, most of the audience had been quite distracted and unable to follow. However, the heretofore audible yawns of tedium and sighs of confusion instantly transformed into gasps of horror. One woman, making herself heard above the din, yelled "NO WAY!" which was quickly followed up by a voice from the back questioning, "Is that a Catholic Church?" Unflustered, and with visibly versed ease, Father Vosko miraculously settled the crowd by simply repeating, "Please, please, please...."
The audience having settled, Father Vosko slipped in the next slide of his renovation work, St James Cathedral, Seattle, Washington. The second wave of feedback from the audience was louder and more appalled than the first. One attendee apparently saw similarities in the depicted renovation to a gym, and inquired of the entire assembly, "Where's the hoop?" Again, the revolt was silenced by a repetitive but firm "please."
Father Vosko also projected images of his "Reconciliation Chapels" (small carpeted rooms in place of confessionals), and "Eucharistic Chapels." "The Church teaches," said Father Vosko, "that the tabernacle is ideally in a side chapel, distinct from the main body of the church." Noticing the unconcealed discomfort in the audience, he said "If you don't believe what I'm saying, and you think I'm heretical, go look it up yourself. You are adults, and I want to treat you like adults."
As feared, the questions for Father Vosko, submitted on pieces of paper, were collected, and then "screened" by select members of the parish committee. There was time only for four selected questions, which in no way addressed the evident concerns of the attendees.
On leaving the church, one elderly parishioner looked up at me and offered her unsolicited summation of the evening's talk. "Vain, vapid, fatuous, inane and, worst of all, patronizing," she said.
Father Vosko, whom Cardinal Mahony commissioned for the interior design of the new cathedral, has not escaped criticism . (See "You Can Dress Her Up But You Can't Take Her Out," April 2001 Mission.) His critics are many and varied, and of them the more caustic are especially angered. What's happened all over the country, they say, is "manipulation," "caprice," and "deliberate deception of the faithful." Some contend that his renovations are inspired by a passion for pantheism, secular humanism, egalitarianism, and iconoclasm. His intent, they say, is to destroy Catholicism and establish a new religion of self-worship, and a major step in the campaign is the stripping of God's houses of their beauty and their sense of transcendence. His work has recently been censured by the Vatican Congregation for Worship and Sacraments, and, on occasion, he has been successfully stopped. Plans for Most Holy Name of Jesus church, New Orleans, Louisiana, were abruptly stopped by the bishop who, according to one member of the parish council, told the pastor he couldn't even have Father Vosko "choose the color of paint." A visit to his website, www.rvosko.com lucidly demonstrates why.
Often, when Father Vosko refers to "the Church's teachings," he is referring to Environment and Art in Catholic Worship, a 1978 document of the U.S. bishops' Committee on Liturgy. This document has never been approved by the Vatican and is soon to be replaced with a document entitled Domus Dei ("House of God"). The following quotations from Environment and Art in Catholic Worship reveal how it is that Father Vosko finds support for placing the altar right in the midst of the people, the tabernacle in a distinct room, a walk-in baptistery at the entrance, and for the removal of pews to make way for individual "movable" chairs.
According to the Environment and Art: "Liturgy flourishes in a climate of hospitality: a situation in which people are comfortable with one another, either knowing or being introduced to one another; a space in which people are seated together, with mobility, in view of one another as well as the focal points of the rite, involved as participants and not as spectators. The norm for designing liturgical space is the assembly and its liturgies. The building or cover enclosing the architectural space is a shelter or 'skin' for liturgical action; it does not have to 'look like' anything else, past or present. The tabernacle. should not be placed on the altar, for the altar is a place for action, not for reservation."
On Friday, January 25, 2002, at 7:30 p.m., the first official meeting for the Preservationist Guild was held at a private home in North Hollywood. Preparations had been made for 20 to 30 people to attend, but by 7:30, numbers had reached almost 80, with attendees spilling out onto the front steps of the house. The first meeting was held principally for introduction and to form a structured plan to stop the renovation. Dr. Gonzalez opened with a talk on the history of both St. Charles Borromeo (the church), and St. Charles Borromeo (the person.) "St Charles Borromeo was a 16th century archbishop of Milan," said Gonzalez, "and he did something which was kind of against the grain for his time -- which was that he decided that the cathedral needed renovation!" Gonzalez placed particular stress on the fact that St. Charles' motivating concern in renovating the cathedral was to make it visually clear that "the most important thing in the church, the most important thing about the building is the sacrament which it contains." Every Catholic church from that day forward, said Gonzalez, had as its focus and dominant point, the tabernacle. The resulting architecture, therefore, provided every visitor with the answer to what is most important in Catholic worship, what is most important to Catholic identity. "And," said Gonzalez, "it is this type of architecture that we have reflected in Charles Borromeo" church.
Gonzalez closed his talk by focusing the anger and frustration many of the attendees felt. "We are not interested in clashing with personalities," said Gonzalez, "we are interested in discussion. Father Gallagher has repeatedly said that nothing has been decided and he is open to discussion. We are going to hold him to that."
"What concerns me," said one parishioner in response, "is that dialogue failed when they moved the Eucharist. I dialogued about the Eucharist. The Eucharist is now tucked away in the other room. They will dialogue, but only to waste time. This is a battle between us and them. What we need to do is organize, rally, and inform people." This met with loud cheers and applause. "I don't think it matters if someone goes to this parish or not," he went on to say. "If we only dialogue with these people, we are going to lose, we will go quietly into the night. We need to get aggressive. We have to do it in such a way that we have not one or two but twenty people at the tables handing out flyers on Sundays. We need to let Father Gallagher know that we are serious." Both this parishioner and the numerous speakers that followed suggested that the best and most effective way to let Father Gallagher know how they feel is to cut off their monetary donations. "Money talks. It's a trite saying, but money does talk."
Another St. Charles parishioner of over 20 years, though sympathetic with the group's goals, disapproved of the suggested procedures. "I have been listening to all this, and I am very troubled by some of the comments made. I think the terms 'battle,' 'war,' and 'withholding money from collections' is abhorrent. I really do. Make an appointment to see Father Gallagher. He will listen to us. You have to trust him. I know him. He cares. But don't start withdrawing collections. I am on your side, but that's not the way to go about it." In response, one of the Guild members argued that Father Gallagher had not chosen any random innocuous interior designer to come renovate the church -- he chose Father Richard Vosko. "That's who's been invited," he said, "the guy who wants to tear out communion rails, put the altars in the center, destroy the choir lofts, and turn baptismal fonts into jacuzzis. This is his vision of churches. This is the person who has been invited to come in here and tell us what our church should look like. We have the right, and I believe the obligation, to forcefully communicate that we believe this person's vision of our Catholic church, our Catholic parish, our Catholic community, is wrong".
Concluding the meeting, Gonzalez said, "Father Gallagher's liturgical bent is community. He is fastened on that particular aspect of Christ's ministry. We hope that Father Gallagher will embrace this portion of his community, and allow us to participate in some kind of meaningful dialogue. Failing that, who knows ... but one step at a time."
I tried to contact Father Gallagher for this article, but he was not available for comment.