Church Reopens Stronger Since ’99 Fire

With a symphony of song and splashes of holy oil, historic St. Thomas the Apostle Catholic Church was blessed and officially reopened Saturday after being destroyed in an arson fire more than three years ago.

For the congregation of mostly working-class Central American immigrants, the Mass of dedication -- celebrated mostly in Spanish by Cardinal Roger M. Mahony -- signaled the return of what members described as their second home, source of strength and spiritual refuge.

Before an overflow crowd of more than 1,000, the cardinal and others anointed the circular wooden altar and walls with oil and perfumed the church with incense, marking the moment of its official blessing.

But the blessings showered on the venerable old church in the Pico-Union district of Los Angeles began long before Saturday’s ceremony.

According to St. Thomas Pastor Jarlath Cunnane, they started shortly after he woke up on that startling morning in June 1999 to see flames leaping through the roof of the 99-year-old church, one of the oldest in Los Angeles.

In the long three years of rebuilding, of bureaucratic delays and the seemingly overwhelming task of raising $2 million, unexpected gifts of generosity appeared and reappeared like miracles to keep the congregation’s spirits high.

The new church retains its historic twin domed towers topped with crosses. But a wing has been added, doubling the capacity to 950. New windows symbolizing the Holy Trinity and the Latino culture of most of the congregants were designed by Father Donie Keohane, an artist and pastor at St. Martin of Tours in Brentwood.

“In many ways, we’re more blessed now than when we started,” Cunnane said. “We have a new and bigger church, and a wider circle of friends and supporters. We’ve certainly realized that church is not a building; it is us, the people.”

Contributions came from major donors like Palos Verdes Peninsula resident Mary Centofante, whose still-cherished memories five decades after graduating from St. Thomas Elementary School prompted her to donate $200,000 to build a new Blessed Sacrament chapel inside the church.

Living the faith is not about “how often you go to Mass, but what you do to help people,” Centofante said in explaining her gift, which she donated in memory of her husband, Albert.

But half of the needed funds came in myriad small donations, many from parishioners whose average annual income of $14,000 skirts the poverty line, said St. Thomas’ director of development, Joe Neeb.

The congregation of 8,000 families comes from most of the countries in Latin America, and also includes a sprinkling of whites, blacks, Filipinos and Koreans.

There was the woman who scrimped savings from housecleaning wages and one day pressed into Cunnane’s hand a napkin containing 10 crisp $100 bills.

Juan Antonio Arias, the church’s 47-year-old custodian, said he can’t afford to eat out at restaurants or take vacations -- but he figured he’s probably given $1,000 in small bills here and there over three years to rebuild his church.

There was nearby Loyola High School, which offered the use of its recently purchased warehouse to serve as the congregation’s temporary home.

After the fire -- whose suspected perpetrator was arrested in a mental ward and deemed unfit to stand for trial, Cunnane said -- parishioners quickly set up a tent in the parking lot and held services there for six months beginning that evening.

Not one Mass was missed, and when it came to events unsuitable for a parking lot -- such as some weddings and funerals -- other parishes and nearby St. Sophia Greek Orthodox Cathedral offered their facilities.

The rebuilding project also touched people outside the parish in unexpected ways.

There was the man who repaired the church’s damaged art work and later stopped by unannounced to tell Cunnane of the blessings the project had brought to his life.

It turned out, Cunnane said, that the man’s father had been head of the Orange Lodge, an anti-Catholic organization in Ireland.

“This man told me he saw the job as a labor of reconciliation for all of the conflict of the past,” Cunnane said.

Noel Diaz, a longtime parishioner and founder of the El Sembrador evangelical ministry, said he and others were initially challenged by the task of mobilizing people to move beyond the shock many felt.

“We had to live what we preach: forgiveness,” he said. “There was a lot of grief and anger.”

By early Saturday, however, the church was enveloped in a buoyant, festive atmosphere. Along one wall, several women taped up a colorful banner proclaiming “We give thanks to God! Demos Gracias Al Senor!”

Colorful balloons and flags representing the homelands of the parishioners adorned the front of the church.

Across Pico Avenue, the church youth group had hand-painted a portrait of the church as a backdrop for mariachi and marimba performers scheduled for after-Mass festivities.

Parishioners arrived hours before the 1:30 p.m. service, spilling out of the parking lot and lining up halfway down the block.

Among them was Gloria Vilma Franco, 45, a North Hollywood resident and Salvadoran immigrant who trekked on foot to the United States through the mountains of Mexico and arrived here in 1976 with only the clothes on her back.

She said St. Thomas parishioners welcomed her, helped her find a job and study to become a citizen. She even met her husband, Rafael, at church.

“What we leave in our countries, we find here,” Franco said of the parish. “It is our faith, it is our home, it is our everything.”