“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.”—From a headstone in Ireland
(The accompanying photo, with late-afternoon shadows creeping into the frame, was not taken under the best circumstances. Still, I’ve decided to post it to provide the merest hint of the contemplation and sense of inner well-being I experienced when I stopped at St. Leonard’s Church in Boston’s North End, in my recently concluded Massachusetts trip. It’s part of the Peace Garden just outside the church.
As is common with other religious buildings, no photos are permitted inside St. Leonard’s. Still, believe me when I tell you that, with its profusion of art, it is one of the most beautiful small churches I’ve seen.
As the son and grandson of immigrants, I felt a sense of kinship when I saw the sign announcing that this was the first Italian immigrant church founded in New England. I know how the Boston natives treated the Irish during the Famine era, and I can’t imagine that they improved that much 30 years later.
Not too far from St. Leonard’s is the Paul Revere Mall—not a shopping center, but a wider-than-usual alley featuring an equestrian statue of the famous painting, along with inscriptions on the wall telling his life stories as well as those of other patriots and early colonists.
But also on these walls, a plaque honors the young men from the North End who gave their lives in service to our country. Particularly during World Wars I and II, that list is lengthy and largely dominated by Italian names.
I wish someone could have given each of those young men a short biography as detailed as the ones for Revere, fellow midnight rider William Dawes, Joseph Warren, and the other patriots. Maybe there can be a Web version commemoration of them, a counterpart to The New York Times' “Portraits of Grief” series after 9/11.
I had a similar thought while contemplating the beautiful stained-glass windows, statues and architecture inside the church. What do we really know about the artisans who gave the best of their toil and creativity to this church, and so many other Roman Catholic churches throughout the country? Don’t they deserve their own tribute?
For today’s religious observance, and in the midst of two simultaneously occurring wars, it might do well to meditate on the inscription in this post. The love that the young fallen soldiers and the long-ago artisans felt for their families, community and church, I hope, “leaves a memory no one can steal.” May perpetual light shine upon them. Amen. )
(The accompanying photo, with late-afternoon shadows creeping into the frame, was not taken under the best circumstances. Still, I’ve decided to post it to provide the merest hint of the contemplation and sense of inner well-being I experienced when I stopped at St. Leonard’s Church in Boston’s North End, in my recently concluded Massachusetts trip. It’s part of the Peace Garden just outside the church.
As is common with other religious buildings, no photos are permitted inside St. Leonard’s. Still, believe me when I tell you that, with its profusion of art, it is one of the most beautiful small churches I’ve seen.
As the son and grandson of immigrants, I felt a sense of kinship when I saw the sign announcing that this was the first Italian immigrant church founded in New England. I know how the Boston natives treated the Irish during the Famine era, and I can’t imagine that they improved that much 30 years later.
Not too far from St. Leonard’s is the Paul Revere Mall—not a shopping center, but a wider-than-usual alley featuring an equestrian statue of the famous painting, along with inscriptions on the wall telling his life stories as well as those of other patriots and early colonists.
But also on these walls, a plaque honors the young men from the North End who gave their lives in service to our country. Particularly during World Wars I and II, that list is lengthy and largely dominated by Italian names.
I wish someone could have given each of those young men a short biography as detailed as the ones for Revere, fellow midnight rider William Dawes, Joseph Warren, and the other patriots. Maybe there can be a Web version commemoration of them, a counterpart to The New York Times' “Portraits of Grief” series after 9/11.
I had a similar thought while contemplating the beautiful stained-glass windows, statues and architecture inside the church. What do we really know about the artisans who gave the best of their toil and creativity to this church, and so many other Roman Catholic churches throughout the country? Don’t they deserve their own tribute?
For today’s religious observance, and in the midst of two simultaneously occurring wars, it might do well to meditate on the inscription in this post. The love that the young fallen soldiers and the long-ago artisans felt for their families, community and church, I hope, “leaves a memory no one can steal.” May perpetual light shine upon them. Amen. )
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