The Catholic Church and Englewood, Chicago, IL

As a child, I grew up in the Englewood area of Chicago, IL. I hung out at Ogden Park and Sherman Park. I knew the neighbors, and they know me and my family. We were truly a neighborhood.

I was educated in the local Catholic school, as was my older sister, some years before. She and I were born and raised in the Catholic faith. We both went to the same school, so I ended up with a few of her teachers. Yippee.

As I grew older, change came to Englewood. Families were moving in and out and the religious face was experiencing a change of its own. It was in the latter change where Englewood lost her glory, and took on her shame.

It was during the mid-1970's, after I had graduated from one of the local schools that the Archdiocese of Chicago, sent down word they were closing some churches in the area. Their claim was financial, not enough money for everyone. They were targeting the churches in the Englewood area.

Once we received this information, the coalition of the Catholic Community of Englewood was born. It included churches: St. Theodore ('76), Our Lady of Solace ('88), St. Bernard ('89), St. Brendan ('89), St. Carthage ('89), St. Martin ('89), St. Raphael ('89)*, St. Augustine ('90), and, St. Charles Lwanga ('90). These churches and schools were on the "chopping block", but the local citizenry was not going to take it lying down. Soon, the people of Englewood joined forces and voices and began to draft ideas on how to save their churches and schools.

Alas, it was all in vain as one-by-one they were closed and consolidated with neighboring institutions. This continued until all that remained was: St. Raphael, which was renamed St. Benedict the African, and sub-divided into two campuses. The Archdiocese had accomplished what it wanted - closure. What they hadn't considered is just how this would ultimately affect the entire area.

The neighborhoods that make up Englewood had pride in itself in its heyday. Beautifully manicured lawns, wee-maintained homes, and equally well behaved children. That's not to say there wasn't crime, there was, but the amount and frequency were nowhere near their astronomical numbers of today's Englewood. This can be traced to the closings in that when people are busy serving God, they're too busy to destroy themselves and others around them.

Those beautiful homes have been replaced by boarded up buildings, dilapidated buildings, and vacant lots used as parking lots for abandoned cars. The people that openly and willingly showed love for one another have been replaced by drug dealers, squatters, gang bangers and thugs. The pride that once shone as bright as any street lamp is now dimmed and dying.

Why, you ask, has this happened? When I was 11 years old, I walked away from the church, and my life was never the same again. And I am just one person. So, imagine the impact of an entire religious/spiritual anchor leaving an area already being impacted by other changes they cannot control. That is more than one person - that is a generation followed by another generation of no spiritual leadership or guidance you can simply walk to - can be expected to survive. No church you can walk into to say a prayer to begin your day. No place to join in with your neighbors to worship and pray with. There is no more "community". A "community" is an area of people who have a "common" "unity", when you take away a piece of that commonality (religion, foundational training, etc.); you remove the need for unity. And without unity, you have no love.

So, in conclusion, what did closing nine Catholic churches and schools do to the area known as Englewood? It killed it. It killed its people, their dreams, hopes, and ideals. The Archdiocese killed Englewood. And no one will ever pay for it is the saddest part of all of this.