Wee kirk for sale.

When I was a kid, I wanted to live in the apartment above a gas station out of Route 9.

It was the only gas station I knew of where there was a flat above the pumps. In this case, the apartment was built on stone pillars over a porte cochère that sheltered the pumps. One of the big attractions to me was being able to live near the smell of gasoline - which I loved - and near the rainbows that formed when some gas sploshed out of the nozzle. How beautiful those gasoline rainbows were! And that heavenly smell of gasoline...

Eventually, I put away my childish things, deciding that living over a gas station would be dangerous. And that sniffing gasoline probably wasn't good for my health. So my sights shifted to old schools and - better yet - decomissioned churches. (Preferably Catholic. Because...)

There are a few former schools around that have been converted to condos, and when I pass by, I always think about how interesting it would be live there, with what would no doubt be the original wide-plank wood floors, the high ceilings, the tall windows. But I reserve most of my longing for the converted churches. There's St. Peter's and Paul's in South Boston that piques my curiosity. Then there's the tony Lucas, which used to be Holy Trinity and which looks gorgeous. Expensive but gorgeous. Our Lady of Victories in the South End is being turned into condos, too.

Then there are churches that could be converted into single family homes. Not that I'm interested in single family living - not at this stage in the game - and most Catholic churches I'm familiar with are too large to be converted into standalone houses. Still, I cast an occasional wistful eye on those small-ish small town New England Protestant outlets, with their pristine white wooden walls and prim steeples.

With my interest in church living, I was naturally drawn to an article I saw on the Church of Scotland, which is selling off 100 church properties across the country.

The Church of Scotland is selling 100 historic buildings to free up funds after a drastic decline in the number of worshippers and ministers.

Churches, plots of land and former council houses, some dating back to the 1700s, have been listed for sale at prices ranging from £35,000 in what the Church has described as a “painful” move. (Source: The Telegraph, via Anglican Mainstream)

(The church pictured above is priced at £39,999.)

Like many (most?) European countries, the Scots are losing their religion. In the 21st cntury, the Church of Scotland is down a million members "and the majority of Scots now say they have no religion, according to the latest census data." As of 2022, the ranks of Church of Scotland clergy are down 40%. 

Much as I see this decline rational, sensible, and inevitable, I do feel bad for those whose churches are on the chopping block - even if the only time they set foot in the door is for a wedding, a funeral, or Christmas. 

I grew up in a time, place, and family that was centered on our parish. We all went to parochial school, and my parents were very involved in with the church and school. Holy Name Society. St. Vincent de Paul Society. Mother's Club. When we were in high school, both my sister Kath and I, along with a group of friends, opened the envelopes and counted the collections each Sunday. (I inherited the job from Kath when she graduated and went off to college.) One of my brother's played CYO basketball. 

After all her kids were gone (from Worcester and from the Catholic Church), the parish remained central to my mother's spiritual and social life. She taught catechism, participated in Bible study, took part in parish "old folks" variety shows, volunteered in the parish food pantry, and was one of the first two women in the parish invited to join the St. Vincent de Paul Society, a charitable group that took care parishioners in need of material assistance. My father had been a long time Vincentian, and after he died, my mother and her friend Lucille - another Vincentian widow - were asked to become members. 

So I get that the loss of a church is major for its parishioners. 

If my mother's parish had closed on her - it had been her home since 1946 when, as a young married woman, she moved with my father from Chicago (where he had been stationed in the Navy) back to his hometown of Worcester - the bottom would have fallen out of her life. (Her/mine/our old parish is still going strong, by the way.)

A Church of Scotland spokesman said: “We understand fully the wide range of emotions – anger, guilt, sorrow and relief that the burden of trying to keep a place of worship open with few people and little, if any contribution from other community sources, has finally been lifted.

“The Church owns thousands of properties, far more than required to achieve our primary mission of sharing the good news of Jesus Christ."

You can look at all the Church of Scotland properties for sale can be found here. 

As charming as I find these wee kirks, and although I do like Scotland, I can't imagine living there.

Ireland, on the other hand...

Maybe I'll find a Church of Ireland sale somewhere near my heart's home in Galway. 

Better yet, maybe there's a retired Catholic church I can get my hands of for short money. How fab if it included a stained glass window or two. I wouldn't even mind being surrounded by cemeteries.bNot that I'm looking for a single-family house at my age, let alone one that needs to be converted into a home, let alone one in a foreign country Still, the idea is intriguing. Once a Catholic, after all...

I'm sure those Scots wee kirks will be snapped up by rich folks from Edinburgh (or from England) looking for weekend getaways. Not that I'll remember to look, but if I do remember, it'll be interesting.