Final St. Catherine-St. Lucy Mass one of hope

Prior to Sunday’s final mass at St. Catherine of Siena-St. Lucy Catholic Church, organ music settled over dozens of congregants as they filed in, joining their voices with hundreds more in the nave. 

Here stood the statue of St. Lucy, holding an olive branch and staring down at the sheer throng of people, an estimated 800 who made the trek from around the area and even across the country to partake in the Eucharist one last time at the church. 

Greeter George Jones, a kindly Black man pushing 90 years, smiled brightly and shook hands with virtually everyone who entered. Rev. Carl Morello, pastor of St. Catherine-St. Lucy and St. Giles, darted around, making sure final preparations were coming together.  

Over there was a man with his arms crossed and a somber countenance, as if in realization that the end was finally here after the announcement March 2 that the church at 27 Washington Blvd. in Oak Park would be closing. 

But for the most part, this was a day of celebration, of reuniting with family and old friends and classmates from St. Catherine-St. Lucy School. 

Of tears, yes. But of laughter and handshakes and hugs as well. 

“The sadness we feel is real,” Morello proclaimed during his homily. “We cannot rush past it. But today, let’s honor it. Let’s also let it open up to what is next. Because God is not done with us yet. Amen?” 

And in one voice, of those in the congregation and perhaps also the many who flowed through its doors since the current church building opened in 1931, everyone responded. 

“Amen!” 

 Later, Morello asked that everyone who had been baptized at St. Catherine-St. Lucy please stand. Dozens upon dozens did so, everyone from the young to many with nests of gray hair. 

There were also plenty who had gotten married in the crowd, like Kari and John Pechous, who did so back on Dec. 15, 2007. There was a big snowstorm that day, which contrasted with Sunday’s sweltering mid-90s heat. 

“There are a lot more people here today than there were at our wedding,” Kari Pechous deadpanned after services were complete and dozens still milled about in front of the altar, taking final photos. In chatting with the couple and their young son, it was clear that St. Catherine-St. Lucy’s impact transcended both time and space. The Pechouses are from La Grange and made the trek over. But there was more. 

“My parents actually got married here, so it had extra meaning to us,” John Pechous added. 

The two who had perhaps the best view of the proceedings were the brother-and-sister server team of Aaron and Ava Konecki. 

What was it like being on the altar and realizing this was it? 

“Lots of waterworks,” said Ava Konecki, who attends Xavier University in Cincinnati. “I took a lot of it in, like looking at the stained-glass windows and just how intricate, and I remembered back to when I was a kid, and sitting and looking at the lights. 

“Growing up here,” she added, fighting back tears, “it made me really emotional. It was hard, but I pulled it together.” 

Ditto for her brother. 

“It was very surreal, because I kind of grew up in this church, and my dad, he’s been here since he was a kid, and now I’ve been there, and it’s very sad to see it go,” said Aaron Konecki, who attends Oak Park and River Forest High School. 

Valerie Jennings, who lives in Austin, has been a parishioner at St. Catherine-St. Lucy since the 1980s, after St. Catherine of Siena and St. Lucy merged in 1974. She spoke at the beginning of the service. 

“I found myself having to just hold it down,” Jennings said, adding she broke down and cried at communion. “That’s why we come. We come to feast upon the table, and I look at that table one last time … I’ll never be able to eat at that table again. 

“I’ll eat at the table of God, somewhere. At St. Giles and other places. But this is home. It was tough at communion.” 

After the service, in the sacristy, with robes and vestments put away one last time, Morello reclined on a chair and let his own emotions catch up with him over months of prayer and preparation. 

“Being the celebrant, you try to hold it all together, spiritually, because as I said there is the bitterness and the sadness, but there is also the hope of who we are as a people of faith,” he said. “So it’s a lot of pressure. 

“But as a man of faith, I count on the Holy Spirit, and I would say at the end of it all, the Holy Spirit showed up.” 

Morello was buoyed by the bigger moments of the service, like during the offertory, when the praise choir sang a joyful song titled, “Every Praise.” Morello stood and began clapping, and suddenly everyone stood and joined in, which concluded with thunderous applause. 

While the St. Catherine-St. Lucy church building is now closed, Morello pointed out to the congregation that its legacy will continue.  

St. Catherine-St. Lucy School will remain open, while SisterHouse, which offers a temporary home to women seeking recovery from substance abuse, will remain in the church’s former convent building. The Neighborhood Bridge and the Faith and Fellowship Ministry will continue to operate out of the repurposed rectory, along with Housing Forward, an emergency overnight shelter. 

And as the congregation united their voices in St. Catherine-St. Lucy one last time, they sang a closing hymn of hope. 

“I got a feeling, everything’s gonna be all right. 

“Be all right. 

“Be all right.”