Kevin Riordan: Still a sanctuary to them

Leah Vassallo and her fellow "vigil-ers" love St. Mary's Church with a fierceness sired by faith.

"We're not trying to break away," says Vassallo, a leader of the 24/7 sit-in that began after the Diocese of Camden abruptly closed the little Gloucester County church in November. "We just want St. Mary's reopened."

Here in the Malaga section of Franklin Township, conservative Catholics are taking a stand not only for a sacred place where folks have worshiped for generations, but also against changes imposed by what they describe as an arrogant Catholic "hierarchy."

The vigil-ers ("We prefer that to 'squatters,' " Vassallo quips) are alarmed that their cozy parish, on Old Dutch Mill Road, will be merged into what they call a "mega-church."

They're appalled (who isn't?) by the latest revelations of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia's coddling known or suspected pedophile priests.

And they're heartened by what looks like a shift at the Vatican, which recently reversed some church closings - although not parish mergers - in the Lehigh Valley and in my homeland, western Massachusetts.

"St. Mary's is not just a building," says Kevin Kelton, 47, a Malaga musician. "The Blessed Sacrament resides here, and the Blessed Sacrament is Christ himself."

Bright with stained-glass light, St. Mary's still has the feel of a functioning church. And after nearly three months of watching over the premises together, members of what already was a close-knit parish have become a bona fide community.

About 30 people of all ages have signed up for regular shifts, with 20 others helping out as needed.

Visitors regularly drop in to pray, share food, or chat.

"I feel like I have a whole other family now. I never expected that," says regular vigil-er Julie Heiland, a 34-year-old mother of three who lives in Hammonton, Atlantic County.

"People ask why we love this church so much," says Vassallo, a Malaga lawyer. "There's a million reasons, but none of them, when you say them, really represent what you're feeling. It's kind of like asking, 'Why do you love your children?' "

After listening to a half-dozen vigil-ers during my visit last week, I don't doubt that love has plenty to do with it.

But less uplifting emotions also are at work.

Sanctimonious and vituperative comments and an unappealing whiff of homophobia mar the otherwise impressive "Save St. Mary's Malaga" website (www.savestmarys.net).

A cartoon of a gluttonous pig, juxtaposed with an expose of a former priest's food budget, is particularly tasteless, and a purported "gotcha" video about the removal of canned goods from the church pantry trivializes the larger battle.

Notwithstanding the unannounced closure Nov. 9, the diocese has been rather diplomatic about the vigil - its first ever.

(Four other church "occupations" are known to be under way in the United States, says Peter Borre, chairman of a national advocacy group called the Council of Parishes.)

Meanwhile, the merger of St. Mary's with churches in nearby Newfield and Buena is proceeding, and by year's end the Camden Diocese will have reduced the 124 parishes it had in 2008 to 70, director of communications Peter Feuerherd says.

He notes that Bishop Joseph Galante, along with his counterparts nationwide, seeks to consolidate parishes not only because of economic and population issues but also because of pastoral concerns.

The vigil-ers are having none of it; they see the merger process as a "sham," the "church hierarchy" as "incompetent" or worse. And let's just say the vigil-ers and the diocese differ dramatically about St. Mary's fiscal viability.

Perhaps St. Mary's can be saved. My childhood church, St. Francis of Assisi in North Adams, Mass., could not.

It was where most of my family's christenings and First Holy Communions took place.

The familiar altar was where I stood, on a warm September morning, to deliver a eulogy for my father.

I recently saw St. Francis' grand entrance enveloped in a winter's worth of snow. Noticing not a single footprint, I felt a keen stab of sadness.

But as has everyone else to whom St. Francis meant so much, I've had to mourn and move on. At some point, the good vigil-ers of St. Mary's may have to do the same.