AT ST. MARY’S, CATHOLIC WITH A LOWER-CASE ”C”
One thing you can say about Greensboro is that the most segregated hour of the week is still the hour of worship. That is, until you visit St. Mary’s Catholic Church.Copyright (c) 2004, Greensboro News & Record, Inc.
http://www.news-record.com Sunday, April 11, 2004
When the roughly 2,000-member congregation comes together in the new parish center off East Lee Street, as it did last week for Holy Thursday and Good Friday, it’s hard to tell which part of the world you’re in, let alone which part of town.
As luminarias lit the walkways starting on Holy Thursday, African Americans who grew up in the historically black church sat side-by-side with white Catholics who still sing in Latin. Vietnamese elders joined with the choir as young Mexicans strummed guitars and readied the outdoor Stations of the Cross. Nigerian immigrants wore traditional garb, as did some of the Montagnards from the Koho and Jarai tribes, each with its own distinct language and customs.
Seen under one roof, they are the literal definition of the word “catholic” without the capital “C” – something universal and undivided.
“Everybody thinks of God as looking like (himself),” observed Pearline Thompson, 71, a member of St. Mary’s since the 1950s. “This church makes you think of what heaven is going to be like.”
She is a self-described “5:30 Saturday” parishioner, attending the only weekly service still held in the original brick church, one block east of Windsor Community Center. It was built in 1928 as the city’s only black Catholic church. Today, the parish has outgrown the original church – in ethnic identity as well as seating capacity – many times over.
And like the cross section of a tree, whose rings show the progression, the story of St. Mary’s in many ways illustrates the journey of Greensboro itself – from the monochrome segregated society of the 20th century South to the rapidly changing, multi-ethnic tapestry of the 21st century.
Even during segregation, the church was a peculiar exception – a black congregation with white priests and nuns. During the same time, the nuns at St. Mary’s operated a school for black children – among its alums were schoolteachers Dorothy Williams and her sister Gwendolyn White, lawyer Steve Allen and newscaster Sandra Hughes.
In 1972, however, the church did away with its identity as a “black” parish and became simply a “neighborhood church” with its own territory. Meanwhile, the neighborhood changed. Large employers such as Western Electric brought more Catholics to the area, and the little church began to draw from Forest Oaks and Pleasant Garden.
Then came the biggest influx of all. First came refugees from the Vietnam War, a portion of them Catholic converts. Next came wave after wave of Mexicans, predominantly Catholic. The Montagnards came out of the Cambodian jungle, where they held daily worship services after being chased from their native Vietnam. And enough Nigerians have joined the church that part of the service is said in Ibo, an African language.
“This way, we learn from each other,” said Father Mike Nguyen, 36, the soft-voiced pastor of a church believed to be one of the most diverse Catholic congregations in the United States. “Different cultures have different ways to worship, and we witness this.”
For Sister Gretchen Reintjes, a longtime immigrant advocate, the evolution that produced St. Mary’s is a departure from the familiar urban Catholic parishes of bigger cities, pigeonholes where each ethnic enclave carved out its own church.
“You had your Polish church, your German church, and so on. It was so divisive,” the nun said. “If an Irish person married an Italian, that was considered a ‘mixed marriage.’ ”
For Pearline Thompson, St. Mary’s has given meaning to some overused words. Recently, her son, who married a Baptist, boasted to Thompson that the black church he attends, St. James, was now “integrated.” What did he mean? the mother asked.
“Well, there’s a white lady who comes to church, and she sings in the choir.” the son answered. “She keeps up pretty good, too.”
The night of Holy Thursday, Nguyen said a multi-lingual Mass of the Lord’s Supper, alternating between English, Spanish and his native Vietnamese, each choir taking its turn, then joining together in Latin.
At the end, the priest carried the Eucharist across the courtyard to the old church tabernacle, and the people who filled the 1,300-seat parish center followed him along the lighted sidewalk.
Afterward, Nguyen stood greeting them under a clear night sky, chatting with a young Mexican man, Jose Gonzales, who was to play Jesus for the third year in a row, blessing an older woman’s rosary beads, the priest moving effortlessly from one language to another.
And by the time they all crowded out of the little brick church where St. Mary’s began, so many fingertips had reached in for a drop of holy water that the cup was dry.
Contact 373-7334 or lahearn@news-record.com
The print edition carried photos.
PHOTOS BY H. SCOTT HOFFMANN/ News & Record
Pastor Mike Nguyen (left) helps wash the foot of a worshiper during the Mass of the Lord’s Supper service last week at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Greensboro.
Hispanic parishioners at St. Mary’s Catholic Church sing during the Mass of the Lord’s Supper service.
”This way, we learn from each other,” said Father Mike Nguyen, 36, of the ethnic and racial diversity of his congregation. ”Different cultures have different ways to worship, and we witness this.”
Printed with permission.
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