Surprising tales from early America of brick-and-mortar ecumenism

As of this writing, I am two-thirds of the way through my production of a podcast series called “Cradles of Catholicism,” which provides a brief historical account of a foundational church in each of the fifty United States. Every church has its own unique and interesting story, but it is also intriguing to discern patterns and commonalities across the three dozen Catholic “origin stories” that I’ve covered so far.

One of these, unsurprisingly, is perseverance in the face of adversity. Laying the foundation of Catholic life in the wilderness always required sacrifice, and our forebears in the faith deserve our gratitude for their fortitude and generosity.

Another and more surprising theme is ecumenical cooperation. This is not a universal experience for the crafters of the cradles of Catholicism in the fifty states, but it is remarkably common, especially in light of the overarching narrative of American Catholicism. This narrative, which includes heavy doses of anti-Catholicism, is one that I accept and to which I’ve contributed in my scholarship. There is ample evidence of opposition to the Catholic Church, often vehement and sometimes violent, especially on the part of Protestant Americans.

The nineteenth century, during which Catholicism was planted in most of the states, was rife with spectacular anti-Catholic episodes, such as the Bible Riots in Philadelphia, the Bedini riot in Cincinnati, and the burning of the Ursuline convent near Boston. Firsthand reports from priests and sisters working in predominantly Protestant communities are filled with experiences of prejudice and discrimination. Protestant-Catholic relations of the period may be summarized, overall, as abiding tension, sometimes exploding into conflict.

Yet generalizations, even when true, are by definition generally true. Many particulars may not fit the pattern, and that is the case here. Long before the rise of the ecumenical movement gained traction among mid-twentieth-century American theologians such as Gustave Weigel, SJ; long before the Second Vatican Council placed Protestant-Catholic relations on a new footing in documents such as Unitatis Redintegratio; long before Catholics and evangelicals found common ground defending life, family, and religious liberty during the culture wars of the late twentieth century—there was ecumenical cooperation in the most basic of faith activities: building churches.

As the Church sought to gain a foothold in state after state across the growing nation, Catholic people and their leaders constantly confronted a shortage of resources. Construction of a church required, first, the purchase of land; then, the expense of planning and design; next, the construction itself, including building materials and labor; and finally, the often-costly furnishings, including artwork, vestments, and sacred vessels, which would make the space a suitable venue for divine worship. Yet, in most cases, pioneer Catholics were poor European immigrants or domestic refugees who were moving to the frontier in search of greater financial opportunity. Through much of the nineteenth century, “wealthy Catholic” was not quite an oxymoron, but nearly so.

In this context, the contributions of non-Catholics were often crucial in the building of Catholic churches. In Alexandria, Virginia, for example, two Protestants donated the plot of land on which the original Church of St. Mary was built. (Its successor, today’s Basilica of St. Mary, is located just north of that site.) The nominally Episcopalian George Washington, serving his second term as the first president of the nation, donated a substantial sum toward its construction.

As an oft-quoted passage from his 1796 Farewell Address suggests, Washington recognized the societal value of religion: “Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports.” His contribution to St. Mary’s reflected that sentiment. As a tepid Christian with deist leanings, Washington may not have had high regard for Catholicism, but he believed that the nation would be better served should Catholic citizens remain attached to the faith and under its benign moral influence than that they drift into irreligion and immorality.

In 1799, another non-Catholic president, John Adams, contributed to the building of the original Church of the Holy Cross in Boston (the predecessor of the current cathedral). Adams, more devoutly Protestant than Washington, had in other settings expressed some hostility toward the Church, but again, he judged it better for the health of the culture of his native state that impoverished Catholics have a place to worship than that they be left to their own devices. Other well-to-do descendants of the Puritans donated as well, and the prominent architect—and Protestant—Charles Bulfinch provided his services at no charge.

In New York, meanwhile, the nascent Catholic community benefited from the accommodation of the dominant Episcopal church. The venerable Holy Trinity Church leased to the Catholic congregation a barren tract on the outskirts of the city at the corner of Barclay and Church Streets (now in the heart of Manhattan). On this ground, Catholics managed to build St. Peter’s Church in 1786, but the small parish continued to struggle financially. In 1792, Trinity Church erased the back rent St. Peter’s owed, and a few years later the Episcopalian trustees canceled back rent again as part of an agreement to sell the real estate outright to the Catholic parish for an affordable price.

In the early days of Catholicism in Connecticut, too, the infant Church relied on the cooperation of non-Catholic neighbors. Lacking funds to build, the first pastor in Hartford purchased an abandoned Episcopalian church. According to Hartford diocesan lore, there was an exchange between Bishop Benedict Fenwick of Boston and the Episcopal bishop Thomas Brownell regarding this arrangement, which illustrates the character of a relationship that was both good-natured and competitive. “Well, Bishop Fenwick,” Brownell began, “as we have a fine new church building, we will let you have the old one.” To which the Catholic hierarch replied, “Yes, and you have a fine new religion, and we will keep the old one.”

While the erstwhile Episcopal church was being converted to Catholic use, Masses were held in the city’s Masonic Hall. When the renovated Church of the Holy Trinity was ready for Catholic worship, the majority of the attendees who filled the church for the dedication Mass were Protestants.

Ecumenical cooperation sometimes extended beyond the building of churches. On the Indiana frontier in the 1840s, St. Theodora Guerin and her Sisters of Providence founded the academy that would evolve into the first Catholic women’s college in the United States, Saint Mary-of-the-Woods. In the early days of the project, most tuition-paying students were Protestant, as the Terre Haute area’s affluent families’ desire for high-quality education outweighed whatever prejudice they carried toward the Church. During the following decade, Mother Joseph Pariseau led another band of Sisters of Providence into the Oregon Territory, where they enjoyed the support of Protestants and Jews as they built St. Joseph’s Hospital, the first permanent healthcare institution in the Pacific Northwest.

In this period of Catholic expansion across America, rhetorical and theological developments in the field of ecumenism and interreligious dialogue remained in the future, but in the meantime, there was practical collaboration in supplying the concrete material conditions for conducting the liturgical and communal practices at the heart of the faith. Perhaps, in inchoate fashion, these experiences laid the foundation for the movement that would flourish a hundred years later.