Placemaking in a Postsecular Age: Sorting "Sacred" from
"Profane" in the Adaptive Reuse of Relegated U.S. Catholic
Churches
Tricia C. Bruce
U.S. Catholic Historian, Volume 41, Number 1, Winter 2023, pp. 93-115
(Article)
Published by The Catholic University of America Press
DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/cht.2023.0002
For additional information about this article
https://muse.jhu.edu/article/887004
[ Access provided at 2 May 2023 15:35 GMT from Depaul University ]
Placemaking in a Postsecular Age:
Sorting “Sacred” from “Profane”
in the Adaptive Reuse of
Relegated U.S. Catholic Churches
Tricia C. Bruce
What does the real estate industry’s “highest and best use” principle mean
in the context of adapting historic Catholic churches to new purposes?
Interviews with pertinent stakeholders in U.S. dioceses engage this question,
attentive to the material impact of parish closures, preferred and avoided
church building reuses, and implications for Catholicism’s meaning
within communities. Contending with the sacred complicates those value
propositions motivated by “highest and best use.” Far from signaling religion’s disappearance, the adaptive reuse of Catholic churches recasts
“church” as an enduring sacred witness, carrying representations of
“Church” in the world. Decision makers approach former churches as
adaptations of sacred purpose to profane contexts, reverberating a
Durkheimian notion of church as moral community alongside perceptions
of loss and irreversible change.
Keywords: parish closure; church closure; sacred; profane; adaptive reuse
Introduction
The wrecking ball began swinging in fall of 2018, taking aim at the
nearly century-old Notre Dame des Canadiens Catholic Church and, by
implication, at community members’ failed attempts to save it. The Diocese
of Worcester, Massachusetts, suppressed the parish a decade prior, subsequently selling it to developers. Dormant for years while plans materialized,
the structure fell to vandalism and decay. Neighborhood activists mobilized
under the banner “Save Notre Dame Alliance,” petitioning for alternatives
to a demolition they labeled “cultural vandalism.” Heated city council meetings, court battles, fundraisers, and petitions were held to no avail. “Church”
93
94 U.S. Catholic Historian
Demolition of Notre Dame des Canadiens Church, Worcester, Massachusetts,
in 2018 (Courtesy of the author).
in Worcester’s city square fell in a mushroom cloud of steel, glass, and dust.
“Church” rises anew as Citysquare, a $565 million, multi-phased project
composed of housing units, hotel rooms, and parking spaces.
In nearby South Boston, residents of “The Lucas” move into new luxury
condominiums, repurposed from the shell of the former Holy Trinity
German Catholic Church. Its 2008 closure preceded both its 2014 sale by
the Archdiocese of Boston and subsequent reconstruction by an architectural
firm specializing in adaptive reuse. During reconstruction, former parishioners posted images and forlorn reactions on social media about the building’s conversion. The church—now residences—retains its public-facing visibility, its historic façade nestled into a neighborhood now far more Asian
American than German American. A bustling Chinese grocery sits behind
residential units, and a Whole Foods Market is a block away. Inside the
church-turned-condos, a doorperson guards entry—the space no longer oriented to communal worship but to private domestic activity.
This article forwards a sociological exploration of the adaptive reuse of
“church” in contemporary U.S. Catholicism. While the word “church”
denotes multiple meanings, here its empirical focus is church-as-materialreality: a building that now or once housed worship. The examples above
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 95
Adaptive reuse of Holy Trinity Church, Boston, Massachusetts—now “The
Lucas,” a luxury condominium building (Courtesy of the author).
reside among thousands of Catholic spaces closed, sold, razed, or repurposed
in recent decades, upending local landscapes in their dust. Centuries of previous growth leave many Catholic decision-makers ill-equipped to navigate
the practical and symbolic steps to reconstitute a church as something other
than “church.” Far from signaling the decline or disappearance of Catholicism, I argue that Catholic decision-makers approach church infrastructure’s
adaptive reuse as an enduring sacred witness, recasting “Church” in the
world as a carrier of sacred purpose.
More Than a Building
Classical sociologist Emile Durkheim equates the idea of “church” to a
“single moral community” conjoining religious adherents together. “In
showing that the idea of religion is inseparable from the idea of a Church,”
writes Durkheim, “it conveys the notion that religion must be an eminently
collective thing.” Whether as a denominational body or house of worship,
“church” embeds a shared meaning system and connection to the sacred.
Churches mark a distinction between that which is “sacred” and that which
is “profane.” Per Durkheim, the two arenas are wholly opposed, their distinction absolute: “In the history of human thought, there is no other example of two categories of things as profoundly differentiated or as radically
96 U.S. Catholic Historian
opposed to one another.” A passage from one to the other is possible, but it
“implies a true metamorphosis.”1
Materially, religious buildings exemplify the presence, absence, and evolution of religion in society. For generations, churches in the United States
have functioned as hubs of community organizing and integration—hosting
socials, youth groups, sewing circles, sports, schools, and more. They served
as “cultural lighthouses in the storm of displacement” during the civic renaissance (1850–1960) and the building blocks of suburban growth thereafter.2 As ethnographer Katie Day observes, “Bricks and mortar, doors and
windows, steeples and altars are not neutral or random elements of a shelter
for a worshiping people. Rather, all these elements are dynamically related to
the religious identity of the faith community.”3
Like libraries and schools, churches belong to a community’s social infrastructure; they are the “staging grounds for all variety of collective life.”4
Well beyond worship, religious buildings function as hubs of social activity
and pro-social behavior. Sociologist Nancy Ammerman observes that congregations compose “a part of the structures and connections that make
social life possible,” representing “living networks of meaning and activity,
constructed by the individual and collective agents who inhabit and sustain
them.”5 Nestled into neighborhoods, urban cores, and vast rural landscapes,
churches act as connective tissue for social bodies.
Attention to transitions in religious infrastructure furthers scholarship at
the nexus of congregations, community, and place.6 The outcomes of reli1. Emile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, trans. by Karen E. Fields
(New York: The Free Press, 1995 [1912]), 36–44.
2. Kevin McCaffree, The Secular Landscape: The Decline of Religion in America (Cham,
Switzerland: Palgrave MacMillan, 2017), 72. See also Robert Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2000).
3. Katie Day, Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 30.
4. Eric Klinenberg, Palaces for the People: How Social Infrastructure Can Help Fight
Inequality, Polarization, and the Decline of Civic Life (New York: Crown, 2018), 188.
5. Nancy Tatom Ammerman, Congregation & Community (New York: Rutgers University Press, 1997), 346.
6. See, for example, Brian J. Miller and Robert Brenneman, Building Faith: A Sociology
of Religious Structures (New York: Oxford University Press, 2020); Ammerman, Congregation
& Community; Robert A. Orsi, ed., Gods of the City: Religion and the American Urban Landscape (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999); Alyssa Maldonado-Estrada, Lifeblood of
the Parish: Men and Catholic Devotion in Williamsburg, Brooklyn (New York: New York University Press, 2020); Paul David Numrich and Elfriede Wedam, Religion and Community in
the New Urban America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015); Tricia C. Bruce, Parish
and Place: Making Room for Diversity in the American Catholic Church (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2017); Day, Faith on the Avenue; Manuel Vasquez, More Than Belief: A
Materialist Theory of Religion (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 97
gious buildings in transition matter for urban placemaking and cities as “living
systems.”7 As the rural share of the U.S. declines, diversifies, and incorporates
new priorities, such as affordable housing and environmental sustainability,
the reuse of once-church buildings presents a litmus test for urban futures.8 A
new middle class accelerates gentrification while simultaneously reconfiguring
religious culture—whether as luxury downtown lofts, wedding venues, shelters, yoga studios, or otherwise.9 Symbolically and materially, religion remains
instrumental to placemaking in a postsecular age.10
Trends in religious affiliation and congregational size portend ever-greater
urgency to questions regarding what happens to un- or under-used religious
space. Between 2007 and 2021, the proportion of Americans affiliated with
religion dropped by thirteen percent. Pew Research Center polls reveal that
“the recent decrease in religious beliefs and behaviors is largely attributable to
the ‘nones’—the growing minority of Americans, particularly in the Millennial
generation, who say they do not belong to any organized faith.” While church
attendance rates of religiously-affiliated Americans remain relatively stable by
comparison, the net effect of more ‘nones’ is fewer Americans going to church,
which translates into shrinking congregational sizes.11
For Catholic adherents in the United States, churches constitute the core
site of worship and sacramental life.12 As historian Thomas Rzeznik observes,
7. Robert Simons, Gary DeWine, and Larry Ledebur, Retired, Rehabbed, Reborn: The
Adaptive Reuse of America’s Derelict Religious Buildings and Schools (Kent, OH: Kent University Press, 2017); Day, Faith on the Avenue, 218.
8. Daniel T. Lichter and David L. Brown, “Rural America in an Urban Society: Changing Spatial and Social Boundaries,” Annual Review of Sociology 37 (2011): 565–592.
9. Richard Cimino, “Neighborhoods, niches, and networks: The religious ecology of
gentrification,” City & Community 10 (2011): 157–181; Nicholas Lynch, “Domesticating the
church: the reuse of urban churches as loft living in the post-secular city,” Social & Cultural
Geography 17, no. 7 (2016): 849–870. For evidence from Europe that adaptive reuse of
churches increases their value, see Caixia Liu and Xiaolong Liu, “Adaptive Reuse of Religious
Heritage and Its Impact on House Prices,” The Journal of Real Estate Finance and Economics
64, no. 1 (2022): 71–92.
10. Michele Dillon, Postsecular Catholicism: Relevance and Renewal (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2018); Christopher Baker and Justin Beaumont, eds., Postsecular Cities:
Space, Theory and Practice (London: Continuum, 2011). For an example, see Katherine Hankins, “‘Gentrification with justice’: An urban ministry collective and the practice of placemaking in Atlanta’s inner-city neighborhoods,” Urban Studies 49 (2012): 1507–1526.
11. Pew Research Center, “About Three-in-Ten U.S. Adults Are Now Religiously Unaffiliated,” December 14, 2021, https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2021/12/14/aboutthree-in-ten-u-s-adults-are-now-religiously-unaffiliated/; “U.S. Public Becoming Less Religious,” November 3, 2015, https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2015/11/03/u-spublic-becoming-less-religious/; “Twenty Years of Congregational Change: The 2020 Faith
Communities Today Overview,” https://faithcommunitiestoday.org/wp-content/uploads/
2021/10/Faith-Communities-Today-2020-Summary-Report.pdf.
12. Gary Adler, Tricia Bruce, and Brian Starks, American Parishes: Remaking Local
Catholicism (New York: Fordham University Press, 2018).
98 U.S. Catholic Historian
“For much of its history, the Catholic Church in the United States has been
defined by the institutions it built.”13 Worship spaces enact evolving notions
of “church,” from “horizontal cathedrals” designed to embrace rather than
dominate the landscape to countless experimental designs spawned in the
decades following Vatican II.14 Liturgical design consultant and priest
Richard Vosko writes that church structures “are symbolic manifestations of
the presence of God made visible in a living church.”15
Today, 16,000 parishes serve an estimated 66.8 million Catholics.16 U.S.
Catholic affiliation rates have remained stable (hovering around one-quarter
of the total population), but Catholics’ population concentration has shifted
South and West, where dioceses build new churches to keep up with growth
and demand. The Northeast and Midwest, by contrast, are experiencing a
net decline. Moreover, an aging and shrinking priesthood nationwide has
diminished many dioceses’ capacity to staff parishes with clergy. The financial
fallout from revelations of abuse and cover-up further catalyzed restructuring
in the decades following 2002.17
Redrawing parish lines and parish suppression (“closure”) can result in
empty churches, which are variously called “redundant,” “decommissioned,” “disused,” “excess,” or “vacant.”18 Unlike in other denominations,
church suppression and decommissioning decisions in the Catholic Church
reside largely in the hands of a local bishop, who must discern needs across
the entirety of a diocese rather than on a parish-by-parish basis. The infrastructure of American Catholicism, accordingly, gets adjudicated—and contested—as part of a wider communal territory.19
13. Thomas Rzeznik, “Church in the Changing City: Parochial Restructuring in the
Archdiocese of Philadelphia in Historical Perspective,” U.S. Catholic Historian 27, no. 4 (Fall
2009): 73–90.
14. See Catherine R. Osborne, American Catholics and the Church of Tomorrow: Building Churches for the Future, 1925–1975 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2018).
15. Richard Vosko, Art and Architecture for Congregational Worship (Collegeville, MN:
Liturgical Press, 2007), 221.
16. Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate, “Frequently Requested Church Statistics,” https://cara.georgetown.edu/frequently-requested-church-statistics/.
17. See John Seitz, No Closure: Catholic Practice and Boston’s Parish Shutdowns (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011) for accounts of lay Catholics’ resistance to diocesan decisions to suppress parishes.
18. Thomas Coomans, “What Can We Learn from Half a Century of Experience with
Redundant Churches? A Critical Evaluation of a Heritage at Risk,” 59–76, in Fabrizio
Capanni, ed., Dio non abita più qui?/Doesn’t God Dwell Here Anymore? (Rome: Pontificium
Consilium de Cultura, 2019).
19. Canonically, a “particular church” is the diocese (“a portion of the people of God
which is entrusted to a bishop”) and every particular church “is to be divided into distinct parts
or parishes.” A “church” does not close; its parishes are suppressed. See Code of Canon Law
nos. 368–374.
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 99
Interior of the decommissioned St. Agnes Church, Detroit, Michigan. The
church was closed in 2006 and has yet to be repurposed (Courtesy of Mike
Boening Photography).
A tumultuous parish-church landscape has spawned a burgeoning professional field of church property managers, real estate lawyers, urban planners, and others working for and with dioceses immersed in difficult decisions regarding church property. Facility management conferences expand
networks and resources for those in the field, and universities are bolstering
resources for real estate decisions informed by faith.20 Infrastructure needs
beckon yet another avenue of lay professionalization and input in Catholic
decision-making while simultaneously repositioning diocesan bishops as the
fulcrum of local power.
Material changes transpiring in U.S. Catholic dioceses today forefront
questions about what should and does happen to a church that is no longer
a church. While these questions have been explored architecturally, liturgically, and (to a lesser extent) sociologically, current work tends toward case
studies of specific cities, neighborhoods, or properties.21 Usually approached
20. E.g., Conference for Catholic Facility Management (CCFM) and the Church Properties Initiative (CPI) of the Fitzgerald Institute for Real Estate (FIRE) at the University of
Notre Dame.
21. Richard P. Cimino, Nadia A. Mian, and Weishan Huang, eds., Ecologies of Faith in
New York City: The Evolution of Religious Institutions (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
100 U.S. Catholic Historian
generically across traditions, extant work frequently lets religious buildings
“speak” for themselves—dependent upon visual cues and physical attributes
to tell the stories about what a building was and is.22 Some categorize outcomes of adapted religious buildings based on form and function. Such
typologies are limited, however, in their reliance upon visual cues and names
to denote what counts as sacred, secular, or mixed, leaving to the imagination a broader understanding of how such forms came to be and why.23
However, a building’s meaning is not innate but inscribed—particularly
when it is considered “sacred.”24 Controversy swirls around which secular
uses are deemed “appropriate” for formerly sacred structures.25 Metrics
such as zoning or formal church procedures mark material goods and property as presently or previously (and no longer) sacred space,26 but these designations may not align with emotional interpretations of, for example,
former parishioners. Case studies that trace decision-making evidence a mix
of agency and acquiescence to circumstance.27 Research must attend to
meaning, contestation, and deliberation at the blurred boundaries between
“secular” and “sacred.” Religious actors charged with sorting out closed
properties’ fates are at the forefront of such confusion, hence their focus in
the current study. The meanings underlying church “conversions” warrant
deeper investigation.
2013); Miller and Brenneman, Building Faith; Simons, DeWine, and Ledebur, Retired,
Rehabbed, Reborn; Kristen Kelly, “Profound & Profane Places: The Adaptive Reuse of Sacred
Spaces in Philadelphia” (Thesis, University of Pennsylvania, Urban Studies Program, 2016).
22. Roman R. Williams and Taylor E. Hartson, “From Sanctuary to Skatepark,” Contexts
19, no. 3 (Summer 2020): 52–59.
23. Jason Hackworth and Erin Gullikson, “Giving new meaning to religious conversion:
Churches, redevelopment, and secularization in Toronto,” The Canadian Geographer 57, no.
(Spring 2013): 72–89; Taylor E. Hartson, “Converted Structures: Exploring Material Expressions of the Sacred and Secular,” Review of Religious Research 63, no. 3 (September 2021),
435–459.
24. Louis P. Nelson, ed., American Sanctuary: Understanding Sacred Places (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006).
25. Larry Ledebur, “The ‘Highest and Best’ in Adaptive Reuses,” 167–188, in Robert
Simons, Gary DeWine, and Ledebur, Retired, Rehabbed, Reborn.
26. Brian J. Miller, “Religious Freedom and Local Conflict: Religious Buildings and
Zoning Issues in the New York City Region, 1992–2017,” Sociology of Religion 81, no. 4
(Winter 2020), 462–484; Nicholas Schöch, O.F.M., “Relegation of Churches to Profane Use
(c. 1222, §2): Reasons and Procedure,” The Jurist 67, no. 2 (2007), 485–502.
27. See, for example, “Navigating Property Development through a Framework of Religious Ecology: The Case of Trinity Lutheran Church,” 198–219, in Ecologies of Faith in New
York City: The Evolution of Religious Institutions, ed. by Richard Cimino, Nadia A. Mian, and
Weishan Huang (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2013); Livezey W. Lowell, ed.,
Public Religion and Urban Transformation: Faith in the City (New York: New York University
Press, 2000).
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 101
The Current Study
Moving beyond visual cues and isolated case studies, this article introduces qualitative sociological data to shed light on the perspectives and deliberations of the religious actors shaping the fate of once-Catholic churches.
While numerous stakeholders influence closed parishes’ (often contested)
outcomes, my attention here goes especially to meaning- and decisionmaking by insiders charged with acting on behalf of a diocese—for example,
individuals having designated access to and authority over property outcomes.
Connected to a larger global project, this research draws from in-depth
interviews conducted in 2019 with twenty-seven U.S. diocesan professionals,
religious real estate managers, bishops, chancellors, and other “insider” stakeholders. While the interviews explored multiple issues relevant to church
property transitions, this paper draws especially on responses regarding which
outcomes for redundant church property fall under the rubric of “appropriate,” “proper,” or “preferred” rather than “inappropriate,” “improper,” or
the canonical term “sordid.” The research also draws from field observations:
(a) a 2018 Vatican-sponsored international gathering of delegates charged
with establishing guidelines for the “appropriate use” of decommissioned
churches, and (b) guided in-person tours in several U.S. dioceses experiencing
church conversions. Additionally, content analysis integrates insights from
official Church documents, guidelines, and canon law pertinent to the closure, relegation, alienation, and adaptation of churches.
Together, this data maps meaning-making in adaptive reuse from the
“inside.” After an overview of scope and process in church closures, I present
findings regarding decommissioned churches and their meanings through
two dimensions: those uses forwarded as “sacred adaptation” and those uses
in an opposing category of “sordid degradation.”
De-Churching a Church
Between 2002 and 2018, U.S. Catholic dioceses suppressed or merged
2,411 parishes.28 Dioceses in the Northeast and Midwest led the decline,
with the Archdiocese of Detroit experiencing the sharpest numerical drop
(119 parishes) and the Archdiocese of Portland, Maine, experiencing the
highest proportional decline (a loss of 60 percent). Among all dioceses that
suppressed parishes, their average number of closings was 22, and the average proportion closed was 15 percent. The number of U.S. priests dropped
28. Calculated from the 2002 and 2018 volumes of the Official Catholic Directory (New
Providence, NJ: P.J. Kenedy and Sons).
102 U.S. Catholic Historian
sharply during the same period, from 45,699 in 2000 to 37,181 in 2017 (a
19 percent decrease).
Parish closings can involve both parish suppression and church decommissioning. Parish suppression (“closure”) happens to parish communities,
and decommissioning happens to church buildings. The former redraws territorial parish boundaries to encompass a new population or, with personal
parishes, reassigns responsibility for its special ministry to a proximate territorial parish.29 Decommissioning refers instead to a process that removes
both religious designation and a church’s sacred purpose for divine worship.
In Roman Catholicism, decommissioning is not considered lightly. Pope
Francis asserts that it ought not to be the default option, and such a decision
ought to be treated with utmost care:
Decommissioning must not be the first and only solution to be considered, nor must it be carried out with the scandal of the faithful. Should
it become necessary, it should be inserted in the time of ordinary pastoral planning, be proceeded by adequate information, and be a shared
decision, as far as possible.30
Per canon law no. 1214, a physical “church” is “a sacred building designated for divine worship to which the faithful have the right of entry for the
exercise, especially the public exercise, of divine worship.” Entry is to be free,
cleanliness and beauty preserved, and “whatever is inappropriate to the holiness of the place is excluded.”31 A church is sacred space.
Like parishes, churches err on the side of perpetuity—meaning that the
norms of Catholicism, both informal and codified, presume that a church
will and should remain a church. The Church desires for churches to stay
churches, but this is not always possible, and without the functionality of
divine worship, a church cannot continue to be a church. Canon law incorporates this eventuality, granting bishops options to de-church a church:
Can. 1222 §1. If a church cannot be used in any way for divine worship
and there is no possibility of repairing it, the diocesan bishop can relegate it to profane but not sordid use. §2. Where other grave causes sug-
29. Bruce, Parish and Place.
30. “Message of the Holy Father Pope Francis to Participants at the Conference ‘Doesn’t
God Dwell Here Anymore? Decommissioning Places of Worship and Integrated Management
of Ecclesiastical Cultural Heritage,’ Pontifical Gregorian University, Rome, 29–30 November
2018,” https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/messages/pont-messages/2018/
documents/papa-francesco_20181129_messaggio-convegno-beniculturali.html.
31. Code of Canon Law, Can. 1214, 1220, 1221, https://www.vatican.va/archive/codiuris-canonici/eng/documents/cic_lib4-cann1205-1243_en.html.
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 103
gest that a church no longer be used for divine worship, the diocesan
bishop, after having heard the presbyteral council, can relegate it to profane but not sordid use, with the consent of those who legitimately
claim rights for themselves in the church and provided that the good of
souls suffers no detriment thereby.
Relegation requires “grave” reason—i.e., “serious reasons which make it
advisable not to use a church anymore for divine worship.”32 Destruction
from earthquake or flood qualifies, as do financial constraints rendering
repairs impossible. Misuse by a schismatic group (not in union with the
Church) is likewise “grave.” Parish suppression alone is insufficient to relegate a church to profane use. The same is true for diminishing Mass attendance. “Grave” is neither absolute nor the equivalent of “just”: “A just cause
is not necessarily grave and a grave cause is not necessarily just.”33
Ambiguity notwithstanding, bishops can and do exercise their canonical
right to relegate a church to “profane but not sordid use.” How does (or
should) this translate in the United States today? Interviews with involved
stakeholders on the inside shed light on which uses feel or are deemed appropriate, which do not, and which fall into unclear territory.
Sacred Adaptation
Real estate professionals frequently use the language of “highest and best
use” (HBU) to ascertain desirable outcomes for a property. Factors include
the building’s condition, its market value, the space’s adaptability to other
uses, parking, and more. HBU in the U.S. marketplace centers on feasibility,
legality, and value proposition. Profit drives recommendations.
But what does “highest and best use” mean for a former Catholic church
and to sellers with motivations other than profit? Catholic interviewees
involved in such deliberations introduced an additional factor for consideration that supplements (or may even undermine) feasibility, legality, and
profit motivation: a church’s enduring sacred character and purpose. While
a bishop’s decree and corresponding canonical standing formally move a
church into the “profane” realm, insiders to the process tend to treat
Catholic spaces as retaining the “sacred.”
32. Schöch, “Relegation of Churches to Profane Use,” 491.
33. Schöch, “Relegation of Churches to Profane Use,” 491. See also “Official Documents of the Holy See: Letter from the Congregation for the Clergy and Procedural Guidelines for the Modification of Parishes and the Closure, Relegation and Alienation of
Churches,” The Jurist 73, no. 1 (2013): 211–219.
104 U.S. Catholic Historian
Interviewees described churches as holding a sacred character that
extends beyond their use for divine worship. One shared that every building
connects to a purpose, and a former Catholic church still carries a “sacred
purpose.” This parlays into approaching adaptive reuse with consideration
for the building’s original mission as a religious hub:
The question is, “What is the sacred purpose?” Because buildings are
always defined by purpose. A building is a type of building because of its
purpose—that is what influences design and its structure and its ongoing
use. It’s designed for a purpose. A house is a house because it was built to
be a house. An office tower was built to be an office tower. So, if a church
is built to be a church, what does that mean? It was built for religious
ritual—of whatever flavor—and also the religious work of the church.
This interviewee added that “religious work” can mean “a lot of different
things.” Resonant with HBU descriptions, “Adaptive reuses can be labeled
as appropriate to the extent that they are congruent with the original sacred
function of the church, including its social mission, and with the values and
vision of the community in which the church is located.”34 The sacred interacts with HBU to generate possibilities, as another interviewee described:
You want to look at the whole context. There’s not one solution. So,
for example, if you’re in a city and the church is sandwiched between
other buildings in an area where there’s fairly dense zoning, you have
one set of options. . . . If you’re in a suburban area where you’ve got
parking lots, schools . . . the parking lot is as important to the church
structure to determine what’s possible.
Local markets vary dramatically; the sacred mingles with the circumstances
(and zoning restrictions) of the profane. Perceived beauty, historical significance, and architectural symbolism weigh in as well.
Considering former church buildings as retaining a sacred purpose, however, can clash with other stakeholders’ responses to the space, limiting the
outcomes. Interviewees described government entities as one source of conflict: “That is one of the things that we, as a Catholic community, quite
struggle with. . . . Government might see churches being used for wider
community use that we may not feel is appropriate in a sacred space. And so,
there’s a challenge there in how we use those buildings.”
Some interviewees forwarded a compromise position whereby the main
sanctuary space is more restricted in functionality while neighboring build34. Ledebur, “The ‘Highest and Best’ in Adaptive Reuses,” 186.
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 105
ings welcome a wider set of purposes. Rectories become fire stations;
Catholic schools transform into charter schools; parish halls revive as town
halls. But for sanctuaries, some resist any change that rules out a return to
divine worship: “Anybody who is working with the church has the responsibility to allow the possibility that at some future date it could go back to a
spiritual use.”35
Guidelines offered by the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Culture suggest that adaptive reuse for churches prioritize the following:
As far as possible and compatible with the original intention of the
building, it is desirable that when it can no longer be maintained as a
religious building as such, an effort be made to ensure a new use,
whether religious (for example, entrusting it to other Christian communities), cultural or charitable. Commercial for-profit reuses seem to be
excluded, while social enterprise usage may be considered. What should
be preferred are reuses with cultural aims (museums, conference halls,
bookshops, libraries, archives, artistic workshops, etc.) or social aims
(meeting places, charity centers, healthcare clinics, foodbanks for the
poor, etc.). For buildings of lesser architectural value, transformation
into private dwellings may be allowed.36
This strategic ordering of preferences reverberates in how U.S. diocesan
staffs and other Catholic stakeholders talk about the best outcomes for relegated churches. Religious purposes, especially Christian ones, hold priority,
followed by uses dedicated to charity and then culture.
Regarding conversion from a Catholic church to another Christian church,
one chancellor whose diocese transitioned many church properties said, “I
think non-Catholic Christian communities is a good use.” Another agreed that
“that would certainly be a reasonable use.” An interviewee recounted several
such cases in his Northeast diocese, where church property was sold to Protestant congregations. The bishop was satisfied, and former parishioners, while
mourning the loss of their beloved faith home, did not protest the adaptation.
35. Appeals to parish suppression have successfully reversed decisions, leading church
buildings to reopen—something not possible if the building itself were sold in the immediate
aftermath. For one example, see the America Media documentary on the second oldest African
American church in the U.S., St. Adalbert/Our Lady of the Blessed Sacrament in Cleveland,
Ohio (https://youtu.be/27_Prqg0BWM). The parish/church was suppressed in 2010 but
reopened in 2012.
36. Pontifical Council for Culture, “Decommissioning and Ecclesial Reuse of Churches
Guidelines” (2019), sec. 34, http://www.cultura.va/content/dam/cultura/docs/pdf/beniculturali/guidelines.pdf. While written for the entire Church, this set of guidelines may be read
as most applicable to European contexts, fitting U.S. contexts tenuously at best.
106 U.S. Catholic Historian
Examples of Catholic-to-other-Christian adaptations abound, such as a Seventh-Day Adventist congregation purchasing what was once Blessed Sacrament Church in Northampton in the Diocese of Springfield, Massachusetts,
and Our Lady of the Lakes Church in the Diocese of Manchester, New Hampshire, becoming Evangelical Baptist Church of Laconia.
One diocesan property director made explicit the preference specifically
for another Christian group rather than “any” religious group: “I mean,
obviously, we’d like it to be a place of worship still. That would be nice. We
would certainly like it to be a Christian type of worship. That would be even
nicer.” Non-Christian groups purchasing and reusing a church garner higher
scrutiny and suspicion. By way of example, the Diocese of Buffalo’s Queen
of Peace Church (constructed in 1928) and St. Agnes Church (constructed
in 1905) now house The Muslim Society of Buffalo and International
Sangha Bhiksu Buddhist Association, respectively.37 An interviewee recalled
when an offer was made for a property in his diocese to become a mosque:
Yeah. I know our archbishop was not happy. That offer came in, but we
tried to explain to him that once we’ve got a decree of relegation . . .
the building is no longer sacred. Therefore, when we put it into the
marketplace, we cannot discriminate. We’re just like any other vendor
out there.
Visions of a sacred purpose meet a marketplace dictated by law and capital.
An undercurrent in responses regarding faith-to-faith adaptive reuse suggests that permitting another religious group to use the space will bring
Christians and others closer to “home” (meaning the Roman Catholic
Church). A parallel undercurrent brings a more pessimistic spin, reading
faith-to-faith conversions as “losing” to other denominations. Regarding
mitigation of reputational risk, interviewees discussed their screening of
potential property owners to ensure “some respect between the two groups
as they move towards a transitional agreement.”
Interviewees pointed out that any religious group interested in a Catholic
property should make it clear that they are not Catholic: “No prohibition on
[religious use], as long as that congregation doesn’t identify itself in any way
as being connected with the Roman Catholic faith.” Dioceses are especially
careful not to sell to a group that calls itself “Catholic” apart from the official
Catholic Church, guarding against confusion in the religious marketplace.
37. For elaboration on these examples, see Ashima Krishna and Enjoli Hall, “Serendipitous
conservation: faith-to-faith conversion of historic churches in Buffalo,” Journal of Urbanism:
International Research on Placemaking and Urban Sustainability 12, no. 4 (2019): 496–521.
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 107
Beyond church-into-church reuse, interviewees volunteered as appropriate
uses charter schools (unless they “compete” with proximate Catholic schools);
senior housing; affordable housing; elder care; care for the terminally ill; housing for those without homes; and variations on charitable works of mercy. “I
think efforts towards justice, towards peace, anything towards education—all
those elements, I think, should be considered,” one interviewee shared.
Endicott, New York’s St. Casimir Church, which was converted into a
hospice, showcases one example. Several decommissioned churches in the
Archdiocese of Louisville—most in predominately Black, now minimally
Catholic neighborhoods—house social service agencies. Such charitable uses
garnered support among interviewees:
It says in canon law that those buildings can then be used for other community facilities and other community uses—supporting immigration,
refugees . . . housing . . . soup kitchens . . . looking after the poor and
marginalized . . . charities associated with the diocese. So there’s all sorts
of things and all sorts of uses that it could be put to. I mean, show me
a place in the United States that doesn’t need . . . some kind of housing
option for people who are living alone, struggling in transition? I mean,
the Church could be claiming this mission and using properties in different locations in different ways.
Affordable housing examples include St. Lucy’s in the Archdiocese of Newark
(founded in 1884), which is undergoing adaptive reconstruction to become
affordable, emergency, and transitional housing (including for individuals
with HIV and addictions). What was once St. Bridget’s and Our Lady of
Grace, also in the Archdiocese of Newark, offer affordable and senior housing.
Marking the trend and opportunity, Catholic Charities USA released in 2020
a guide to “Converting Surplus Church Property into Affordable Housing,”
noting therein the imperative of a supportive (arch)bishop.38
Interviewees deemed cultural uses such as museums, libraries, or concert
halls (“Not rock music or dancing, but as a serious concert hall”) as acceptable
and appropriate. One offered the example of “an art gallery to take advantage
of the architecture of the buildings and then particularly the stained glass”;
another cited “two or three properties that were converted into recreational
facilities, training facilities” and “community development type of thing.” The
former St. James Catholic Church in Thomaston, Maine, illustrates such an
outcome, purchased and used for art exhibitions. Using a church as a “public
38. Catholic Charities USA, “Converting Surplus Church Property into Affordable
Housing,” https://www.catholiccharitiesusa.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/CCUSASurplus-Church-Property-into-Affordable-Housing-Guide.pdf.
108 U.S. Catholic Historian
St. Lucy Church, Jersey City, New Jersey, prior to redevelopment into a mixeduse facility with emergency, transitional, and affordable housing (Courtesy of
the author).
meeting place,” said one interviewee involved in negotiating such developments, is “very complementary to the buildings themselves.”
A common thread in interviewees’ conceits of “sacred purpose” and
sacred adaptation is that a Catholic building—while no longer a church—will
forever reflect Catholicism. It is a “witness”:
[I]t would be contrary to the dignity of churches as sacred places to
consider them simply as financial burdens, objects of commerce, or
financial assets available for paying off the debts of a parish or diocese or
religious institute. The church building above all is a memorial and witness to the Christian faith professed and celebrated by the faithful in a
certain place. It is not to be treasured only in light of any historic or
artistic value, but because of the public divine worship to which it gives
a visible testimony in a secularized society.39
With any adaptation, in the words of one interviewee, “image” and meaning
matter: “You are conveying to the visitor that not only was this part of its
history, but it also may be part of its future.”
39. Schöch, “Relegation of Churches to Profane Use,” 502.
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 109
While any property’s fate cannot be dictated or secured, particularly
beyond the first reuse or purchase, those involved in the process take seriously the intent to preserve, protect, and reflect well the sacred dimension of
a church as a witness that “speaks” Catholicism to the world. Moral boundaries drawn around what is “appropriate” for the adaptation of Catholic
churches signal a persistence of the sacred that looms larger than that stipulated by either canon law or “highest and best use.”
Sordid Degradation
Potential uses that might otherwise satisfy HBU metrics must also fulfill
the Code of Canon Law (no. 1222), which clarifies that a church is to be relegated to “profane but not sordid use” (emphasis added). But what does
“sordid” (“vile,” “dirty,” “wretched”) mean and look like in practice to
those navigating such decisions?
Stakeholders involved in religious property transitions take care to avoid
“inappropriate” reuses of a Catholic church that would constitute a
“counter-testimony” to the faith. Interviewees acknowledge that this higher
standard is challenging in an unpredictable marketplace, where hopes and
intentions do not always match opportunities. One interviewee relayed that
“you can’t just let anything happen,” and yet “the truth is that finding a real
adaptive use for a church building that is appropriate is a real challenge.”
This leads many decision-makers to avoid the worst and hope for the
best. Interpretations of what is “worst” tend to reverberate along those
moral headlines that more broadly characterize Catholicism in society:
namely, those connected to sexual ethics. Reuses deemed antithetical to
Catholic sexual ethics were often the first mentioned by interviewees as inappropriate. Volunteered (largely hypothetical) examples include churches
becoming abortion clinics, strip clubs, hunting clubs, brothels, or variations
on businesses that promote sexual impropriety, pornography, and obscenity.
One respondent explained how this plays out in practice:
From the Church’s point of view, what we’re really looking at—I mean,
of course, abortion is a large issue for the church, as is contraception.
We don’t want Planned Parenthood in any one of these old facilities.
We don’t want a gentleman’s club, a strip club. That certainly wouldn’t
be appropriate. . . . But it’s those kinds of things—most of them deal
with the sexual issues—because, for whatever reason, the Church likes
to focus on those issues.
Moral lines for adaptive reuse are also drawn around activities like gambling:
“For the most part, we try to dissuade any kind of betting parlors. . . . Truth-
110 U.S. Catholic Historian
Church Brew Works, once St. John the Baptist Church, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The church closed in 1993, and three years later work began on transforming the structure into a brewery and restaurant. Beer vats now line the
former sanctuary (Courtesy of the author).
fully, that’s not so much a moral issue, but it’s just something we always
frown upon.” Guidelines from Rome set forth a similar precedent, judging
as inappropriate uses that “give offence to the religious sentiment of a Christian people.”40
Morality generates a blurry spectrum of (un)desirability for reuse outcomes. Churches-into-breweries occupy a popular example of adaptive reuse,
garnering outsized attention stemming from their aesthetic intrigue—fermenting tanks in place of altars and the like. Revelers can raise a glass inside
Pittsburgh’s “Church Brew Works,” originally founded as St. John the Baptist Church in 1878. The property was the first church sold by the diocese
to developers, storied thereafter as a caution to properly remove and desanctify all religious elements. When Baltimore’s St. Michael—built in 1852—
was adapted into the “Ministry of Brewing,” the archdiocese took care to
40. Pontifical Council for Culture, “Decommissioning and Ecclesial Reuse of Churches
Guidelines,” sec. 16.
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 111
deconsecrate the space and remove all holy objects. (“Tasty beer in a church
space,” raves one online reviewer.)
Interviewees react to such examples as offensive more often than not,
and something to be avoided:
That church, my understanding as we speak today, is being turned into
a brewery. And in fact, the developer called, contacted us, to see if we
could recapture the stained glass that was taken out of the building.
They wanted to put it back in, because I think they’re labeling this
brewery, or whatever it is, in some religious context. And I find that
offensive. I just don’t think that’s appropriate.
A similar offense is perceived from reuses that center on alcohol consumption, dancing, leisure, or certain music styles. St. Liborius Catholic Church
in Old North St. Louis is now “SK8 Liborious Church”—a skateboard park
outfitted with halfpipes where pews once stood. In one online reviewer’s
estimation, it is now the “Freaking coolest place in the hood.”
Several interviewees mentioned cognizant efforts to avoid an impulse of
competition with or disparagement of Roman Catholicism. Some dioceses
tie use restrictions to the sale of property, e.g., “the property may not be
used in ways that are antithetical to the teachings of the Church.” Some look
into “clouded deeds” to prevent adaptive reuse into bars, restaurants, massage parlors, and the like. The deed for the aforementioned church-into-artgallery sale in Maine restricted the premises from being used for “counseling
regarding or performance of abortions,” “sale or distribution of pornographic materials,” or “erotic displays or activities.”41 One interviewee
explained how they once tried to limit the types of theatrical shows that
would be featured in a former church:
A few years ago, a parish built a new church in a different site than the
existing parish property, and so the old church was sold to a local developer to be used as, like, a theater for theater productions that are appropriate, you know? That was incorporated into the agreement when the
church building was sold to them: that the theater productions would
be for general audiences, and so forth.
Another specified how they negotiated the deed to guard against sordid use:
The deed restriction is specific in what it excludes. It prohibits any use
for essentially any activities that would violate the teachings of the
41. “Artist buys Thomaston properties,” [Camden, ME] Courier-Gazette, January 6, 2017,
https://knox.villagesoup.com/2017/01/06/artist-buys-thomaston-properties-1612288/.
112 U.S. Catholic Historian
Catholic faith. You know, abortion would be mentioned, and euthanasia, and things of that nature, but it goes beyond that—it prohibits use
as a bar or nightclub or other kind of activity that may not be—not that
they are banned by church teaching, but “appropriate,” because it had
been a sacred place, you know? It was used as a sacred place at one time.
While much is unpredictable beyond the transfer of a church to new owners,
deeds provide one avenue to mitigate negative reputational risk. However,
such restrictions were described as difficult to assess or enforce, and interviewees said they do not typically last across the property’s resale to a subsequent owner.
Adaptive reuse into housing falls for interviewees somewhere between
appropriate and inappropriate, sacred and sordid—largely dependent on
what kind of housing and for whom. Housing is a common and often desirable reuse for churches, bringing value to the market. Resistance to residential reuse stems first from an understanding of housing as a “private” use,
which can feel far from the communal good previously served by the church.
One respondent mused through possibilities, distinguishing different kinds
of housing: “[The diocese] would favor projects geared to low-income housing, low rental housing, for poor families and things like that. What was felt
not proper use would be luxury housing.” Examples of luxury conversions
abound, among them: “The Cosmopolitan” in the former Immaculate Conception Church in Boston’s South End (the words “To Jesus Through
Mary” remain prominent on its street-facing façade); “The Marc” in
Boston’s Our Lady of Victories Church; and “The Lucas” depicted at this
article’s outset. Some adaptations—such as St. Boniface Church in
Chicago—mix multimillion-dollar condos alongside a handful of affordable
housing units (and, in this instance, offices for a social service agency).
Many smaller churches are sold for use as private dwellings (an allowance
reluctantly afforded in Vatican recommendations for “buildings with lesser
architectural value”). It is not uncommon to find “private residence” signs
on such properties to dissuade entry by confused passersby. One interviewee
compromised on housing conversion by suggesting that select churches can
become housing, but “Is it okay for the best of our churches to become
condos? No. Is it okay for most of our churches to become condos? No.”
Commercial, for-profit uses also fall on a fuzzy middle ground that leans
toward the sordid. Vatican guidelines categorize such uses as something to be
excluded, but some interviewees saw potential for valuable neighborhood assets:
They’re no longer worship sites . . . so these can be looked at as still positive uses impacting the community as opposed to just purchasing the
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 113
building and using it for storage. Something very commercial and
industrial type. . . . It’s something that the community can look at and
say, “Okay. This is—well, it’s not the worship site, but it’s something
that’s contributing to the neighborhood.”
In the Diocese of Ogdensburg, New York, the conversion of a church constructed in 1876 into a general store is one example. The building was vacant
for years, and the community was without a store. Another church-intoretail conversion eliciting mixed reactions is the once St. Catherine of Siena
Church in greater Boston, now a Dollar Tree discount store. As one online
reviewer surmised: “Average size Dollar Tree. Very weird shopping in a
church.” Interviewees reluctantly acknowledged the financial motivations of
dioceses sitting on desirable real estate in the midst of commercial zones
(and mounting debt).
A few respondents suggested that any purpose other than divine worship
is an undesirable scenario; thus, it is better to tear down a church than to see
it reused inappropriately (or at all). Razing a building simplifies complex
interpretations and risky outcomes; it can feel like a superior and more
straightforward path than discerning or actualizing appropriate reuse.
On this option, one interviewee shared:
In the past, the go-to decision has been to demolish [churches].
Because it is the easiest option and because we don’t have to look at
alternative uses. There’s no fear that anybody’s going to get in there and
do anything which would be offensive to the Catholic Church, which a
lot of people are concerned about. You’re not going to get any other
religions in there; you’re not going to get artists using it for exhibitions
which go against the teachings of the Catholic Church, which will upset
people again.
Tearing down a church—a process that inevitably evokes strong emotions—
translates to a less speculative, painful, or fearful prospect than adaptive (and
“sordid”) reuse. Secularity poses a threat to any church-as-no-longer-achurch since its reuse is now uncontrolled.
Conclusion: Whither Church?
This research extends studies of closed and converted churches,
unearthing contested meanings and paradoxes in the phenomenon of adaptive reuse. It interrogates meaning-making and placemaking within a particular tradition (Roman Catholicism) and social context (the contemporary
United States). Contending with more than individual material outcomes, it
114 U.S. Catholic Historian
adds decision-makers’ voices regarding churches that are moving from the
sacred to the profane. Buildings may “speak” for themselves, but empowered
stakeholders necessarily interpret and contest what they say.
Not unlike the theoretical approach of founding sociologist Emile
Durkheim, contemporary Catholics’ discernment on church buildings’
adapted reuse attempts to draw boundaries separating the “sacred” and
“profane.” Questions regarding the fate of closed churches relegated to the
profane are not wholly theoretical and are amplified when diocesan leaders
suppress scores of parishes. Concerned stakeholders work to sort meanings
and apply standards according to what belongs to, serves, and reflects sacred
meaning—and what does not. Canon law sets parameters, the Vatican
sketches guidelines, and the pope advises church leaders to approach decisions with import and care.
Assignment to a sacred-profane typology, however, translates less precisely in practice. Catholic leaders attend to structures as carriers of the
sacred even when they are no longer “officially” churches. Religious buildings—particularly those with recognizable “Catholic” markers—may change
purposes but nonetheless communicate messages about faith’s enduring
presence. Anticipating a kind of “nostalgic” attitude toward religion, sociologist Kevin McCaffree predicts that disused church buildings will not be
razed but rather revered as solemn sites “used to mark sacred (if secular)
events in the lives of Americans.”42 Former Catholic churches often do not
camouflage easily amid city landscapes, being recognizable and (frequently)
remembered as sacred spaces. Even when decommissioned, they stand as visible representations of “Church” in the world and, for some, bear witness to
the faith. Names like “Church Brew Works” and prominent stained-glass
windows are far from coincidental, conjuring transparent associations with
religious pasts. Churches belong to “a chain of memory” in a “postsecular”
or “post-Catholic” society.43 They hold Catholicism both symbolically and
materially; relegating them to “profane” does not dispossess this set of
shared meanings. The move from sacred to profane is far from the wholly
oppositional “metamorphosis” depicted by Durkheim, akin instead to evolution and the tenacity of the sacred.
Such a recognition heightens the import and uncertainty of material and
functional outcomes for decommissioned churches, outcomes over which
42. McCaffree, The Secular Landscape, 270.
43. Danièle Hervieu-Léger, Religion as a Chain of Memory (New York: Rutgers University Press, 2000); Dillon, Postsecular Catholicism; Gladys Ganiel, Transforming Post-Catholic
Ireland: Religious Practice in Late Modernity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016).
PLACEMAKING IN A POSTSECULAR AGE 115
religious leaders do not have full control. “Highest and best use” from a religious—or specifically Catholic—perspective implies something more, or different, than standard metrics for market value. Decision-makers introduce
additional factors that are symbolic, theological, and moral. Conceits of the
“appropriate” prioritize an enduring (albeit transformed) sacred purpose
realized through public-facing and collective goods. Historic churches adapt
sacred purposes to changed, profane contexts.
Conceits of the “inappropriate,” by juxtaposition, reverberate moral and
political flashpoints of the “sordid” that more broadly characterize religion
in society. Inappropriate reuses paint Catholicism and Catholics as irrelevant,
immoral, or immaterial. As observed elsewhere, “Reuses that are not congruent with the original sacred purpose of the house of worship, or seem to
mock it, and are not congruent with the values and vision of the surrounding
community, can be called inappropriate uses.”44 The adaptive reuse of
churches emerges as a litmus test and liability for what Catholicism means
today and the relevance the Church has for contemporary communities.
Disused churches retain a Durkheimian principle of church as moral
community even when adapted for new use. They speak the sacred into new,
profane contexts of use and meaning. The sale and adaptive reuse of church
property cannot be read as mere organizational death or secularization or
religious decline, or disappearance. Adaptive reuse arguably does the opposite: it speaks “church” in places where “Church” has departed. While the
phenomenon of church closures risks conveying a narrative of loss, insiders
to the process advance a parallel narrative for the persistence of the sacred.
The conditions of “Church” in modernity are not in decline but in abeyance:
diffused and realized anew via the adaptive reuse of buildings. Nonetheless,
such transitions are accompanied by competing visions of the sacred that are
articulated by local religious and nonreligious actors, filtered through specific
economic and cultural conditions, and indicative of broader cultural
responses to Catholicism’s role in new religious fields.
44. Ledebur, “The ‘Highest and Best’ in Adaptive Reuses,” 186.