St. Wenceslaus Parish concludes weekend masses
By Rebecca G Carlson
Sun contributor
Whether directly or indirectly connected to the Gill’s Pier Catholic Church, the termination of full-service masses at “the church in the orchard,” St. Wenceslaus, and moving to limited use, is a historic and cultural loss, a communal and civic loss, and ultimately a loss of vital Leelanau County history.
Honored as a Michigan Historical Site both for the church and cemetery, St. Wenceslaus has witnessed almost 136 years of Leelanau County History. It stands as a testament to the births, baptisms, confirmations, weddings, deaths, and many celebrations of this interwoven farming community. By changing to “limited use,” this means a loss of social services, a loss of spiritual education, and ultimately loss of a place of prayer.
From the church website, this heartbreaking message is posted. “On Monday, June 1, Bishop Walsh issued a decree that as of July 1, 2026, St. Wenceslaus will change in status to a “Limited Use” church. This means that there will no longer be weekend or weekday masses at our church and you will need to go elsewhere to attend services (unfortunately the same status also has been designated for nearby St Gertrude in Northport). Both are churches of historical and communal significance which is a loss for everyone in the Leelanau Peninsula.”
I was sickened to learn that there are labels for the decommissioning and closing of churches across the county: de-churching and redundant churches. First of all, how does one de-church? Secondly, are there redundant churches? Are St. Wenceslaus and St. Gertrude redundant? Not to the parishioners. Not to the hard-working immigrants who settled the area and built the churches with their own hands and donations. Not to the succeeding generation of worshippers over the past 136 – 150 years. This is a horrible and uninformed decision on the part of the Gaylord Diocese.
January 2026 was the first indication that a change would take place at St. Wenceslaus, when the bishop let the leadership know that the church would be sold. A few weeks later, there was a decision to scrap that plan and alter the type of services St. Wenceslaus could offer. Sketchy. From the St. Wenceslaus website: “Jacob and Anna Kolarik deeded to Bishop Henry Richter of the Diocese of Grand Rapids 1-1/2 acres on November 1, 1890” land for the church. “[L]and was conveyed by Julius and wife Mary Kolarik to Bishop Haas on October 7, 1948” for the rectory. “Roy and Celia Kalchik donated a strip of land on the east and north to enlarge the cemetery grounds.” So, Diocese of Gaylord and Bishop Jeffrey Joseph Walsh – give the land back that was given to you if it is too much trouble to oversee from 1-1/2 hours away. It was donated to the Catholic Diocese in good faith, and their years of devoted service should not be “extinguished,” as noted in the Decree.
In reading the Decree, it is problematic and troubling that a religious governing body who has only visited the parish once in the last four years is determining the future of the St Wenceslaus community that has been self-sufficient and profitable for the Catholic Church for 136 years. Nor does it seem like whoever wrote the decree knew anything about the actual parish at Gill’s Pier. Number 5, labeled “Positive Pastoral Benefit” of the Decree lists the following reasons, “The proposed union [of St. Wenceslaus and St. Mary parishes] is expected to: strengthen sacramental life, ensure more consistent pastoral leadership, and foster a more viable and unified parish community.”
These three reasons clearly underscore the lack of knowledge and understanding of St. Wenceslaus and its steadfast and loyal parishioners. And honestly, can the Holy Spirit of St. Wenceslaus and the community be “extinguished” as noted under “Juridic Effects”?
During our conversation, Deacon Martin Korson expressed sorrow as the congregation was “blindsided by the decision” as St. Wenceslaus has been operating smoothly for years. Of all the charitable and community support projects over the years, Deacon Korson stated, “We did well and we shared.” Ultimately, the Diocese’s decision for these faithful parishioners is “heartbreaking.”
While some Catholic churches can seem overly ornate, stuffy, and formal, St. Wenceslaus is one of the rare churches that truly serves as a sanctuary. The sensory experience of walking into this space is one of warmth as Deacon Korson personally welcomes congregants into the church.
Once worshippers walk through the vestibule to the nave, the interior, while modest and intimate, creates a feeling of peace. Yes, there are rich visuals from the altar, the gorgeous stained-glass windows, along with the sounds of creaky wooden pews and kneelers, and the scents of wood, polish, and incense, but all these sights, sounds, and smells are uniquely Catholic, and create a sense of coming home to parishioners.
From my childhood of working the family’s cherry orchard each summer, I always felt a kindred connection to St. Wenceslaus when attending Sunday service. Our motley crew would stumble in to church, grandparents, cousins, parents, siblings, and take over a small section at the back of the church. For us kids (there were nine of us), some had bedhead, cockeyed ponytails because I couldn’t stop moving around, others had clothes on that were a little wrinkly, and others may have forgotten to brush our teeth, but our parents were breathing a sigh of relief they got us all into the cars and to church before mass began.
Walking in, genuflecting before entering the pews, and finally sitting down allowed everyone to relax for the first time in a week after the back-breaking orchard work. During the hour of service, we all found a true sanctuary.
Once the congregation offered the prayer ‘Our Father,’ I knew my favorite part of mass, the Rite of Peace, was next. The Rite of Peace “is an exchange of gestures within the Holy Mass where we greet one another with a symbolic gesture. If you attend a Roman Catholic Mass somewhere in North America, you have most likely shaken hands or given a slight bow to your fellow Mass-goers while saying something like ‘peace be with you’…This is the sign of peace” (Cohparish.org). While my 7-year-old version of shaking hands and saying “peace be with you” was not what one could call solemn or peaceful, my enthusiasm in shaking hands made up for it in getting my “peace be with you” people to smile.
Putting limitations on the services that St. Wenceslaus can offer is not just a county-wide loss, it’s a personal, devastating loss.
The community-wide implications of this decision are negative and felt beyond the Catholic community. After learning of the limited services being forced on St. Wenceslaus, one Suttons Bay resident asked, “No more summer Chicken Dinners at St. Wenceslaus?” This was a picnic that turned into an annual summer celebration for over 114 years. Kathy Allen went on to add the decision is “heartbreaking.” Ditto Kathy! For many of us, attending the chicken dinners was a highly anticipated summer ritual for those of us in the Leelanau Peninsula and beyond.
In some form or other, St. Wenceslaus has been a place of worship for generations of parishioners. Built by the hands of the hard-working, immigrant, Bohemian community of Gills Pier. Moving to “limited use” by order of the Gaylord Diocese erases the tangible history and a vital communal anchor for the people who built St. Wenceslaus.
As many congregants have generations of personal history tied to this church, effectively closing it will lead to significant grief and a loss of community cohesion. St. Wenceslaus is more than a place of worship, it is the heart of this farming community, offering stability, and most importantly, a sanctuary for everyone. “St. Wenceslaus stands [as] a landmark…a sentinel, as it has been for all of us, as a pillar, and guidepost for years, a beacon on a hill” (“The Treasure We Share”).
As Deacon Korson and I finished up our conversation on the front steps of St. Wenceslaus, a parishioner walked up and stated “Catholicism is about Community.” But how do these communities survive if the heart has been ripped out?
The “Pastoral Plan 2026” put out by the Gaylord Diocese quotes the Bible: “Love never fails” (1 Cor 13). Closing a church does not seem to be a symbol of love, but a lack of faith. “Go, therefore, and make disciples” (Mt 28:19-20). How can more disciples be created if the overseeing Diocese is closing the churches?
