Way to Go

February 20, 2023

Our parish is pushing to build a columbarium, to be called “Columbarium Garden.”  It will consist of six structures on the parish grounds, each containing 84 “niches” for a total of 504. A niche would accommodate one or two urns containing “cremains” of license holders.

The church has asked interested parishioners to purchase a license by late March, $10,000 for the dual niche, $5,000 for the single, payable upfront in full. The church needs the commitments, and the cash, for 100 dual licenses or the equivalent of single and dual licenses in value to award a construction contract.

The parish announced three informational meetings a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t pay attention. Sandy wanted to go, thinking ahead, as usual. 

Who thinks about death? That is, how on this earth you’ll be disposed of. We’re all reminded to make a will and do the associated paperwork, the advanced medical directive and so on. Funeral directors and the administrative people at cemeteries think about the business side—death is their business. So do churches that want to set up columbarians.

So apart from the philosophical/spiritual and the business side, there’s the question, where to end up. Until just now I’d never thought about it, life itself is overwhelming. I’ve been to the columbarium at Arlington National Cemetery, where veterans rest. The niches come in a range of  sizes. You can get roomy ones for two or more urns, or singles the size of a dresser drawer.

My parents and younger brother all are buried in traditional graves in a Catholic cemetery in New Jersey, a short drive from where they lived for most of their lives. It’s a serene, beautiful place. We drove to Jersey in August and visited their graves. It had been five years. But most of the remaining family moved hundreds of miles away.

Sandy’s family has a plot in the cemetery in her hometown of Cowan, Tennessee, at the foot of the Cumberland Plateau. A few years ago we stopped at the cemetery, a quiet, lovely spot. Only her grandparents and a couple of long-departed aunts and uncles repose there. Her parents and older brother are in a veterans’ cemetery 100 miles away in Nashville.

I don’t see us going to the Jersey cemetery. Sandy’s siblings moved away years ago, they’re not interested in the Cowan gravesites. That leaves two sites unclaimed but paid for. How about Cowan, I asked, half-kidding. She didn’t care for the idea, not at all. No one would ever come to visit us, she said. My answer: we wouldn’t know that and wouldn’t care.

For some folks, cremation allows flexibility, no earthly real estate required. We released a cousin’s ashes into the surf in Florida, within seconds they disappeared into the waves, into immortality. Scattering ashes on private property generally requires the owner’s permission.

Traditional Catholic teaching used to oppose cremation, holding that the deceased body remains, spiritually, the temple of the soul, and should not be shaken from a box to fly off in the air on a mountaintop, into a lake, or your backyard. In recent years, the rules have been modified to allow cremation. Still, the cremated remains, like a body buried in a coffin, must have an intact physical resting place, not including your mantel.

We went to the third meeting and picked up the brochure. Probably fifty or sixty folks showed up. Like us, most were up there in years. A few forward-thinking fifty-somethings attended.

A volunteer made the pitch. The background, he said, is that the parish purchased some land adjacent to the church grounds to avoid it being occupied by a 7-11, a gas station, or a McDonald’s. Then the idea came up. Other Catholic churches around the city already have established columbariums. An “opportunity survey” got 132 positive responses. The church got the go-ahead from the diocesan HQ in Charleston and hired an architect.

The volunteer called on a local funeral director who briefed the process. State law requires a cremation authorization certificate. The family can have the traditional viewing of the deceased in a coffin followed by a Mass or other funeral service, followed by cremation and interring in the niche. A variation: the body is cremated first, the deceased attends the service in his or her urn prior to being interred.

The session had its moments. The volunteer stressed the somewhat elusive fact that the columbarian “opportunity” was being offered but not pushed. “We’re not saying, ‘wanna get cremated—we’ve got a spot for you,’” he said. “The niche is a permanent resting place for those who chose this option.”

The crowd had questions: What if you buy now then move away and change your mind, was one. “You write a letter, within 30 days the church may agree to refund the money, minus an administrative fee,” the volunteer said. If it doesn’t, you’re free to resell.

“So the church needs a million dollars by late March,” someone yelled. “That’s about right,” the volunteer said. He added that the church knows the 504 niches won’t be sold by March.

Lots of things come up for us, one being cost. The volunteer cited ballpark costs for other local columbarians, some were higher, others a tad lower. “We’re trying to thread the needle on cost,” he said. Then too, the $10,000/$5,000 is the current pricetag. Down the road it probably will be $12,000/$7,000. Like buying a car or renovating your kitchen. Everything goes up.

We saw some artist’s concepts. The columbarian will go in a pretty, wooded end of the property, with a small fountain in the center, an altar at one end, a nice walkway leading from the church. The six structures will be aligned, three on each side of a wide plaza-like space. There’s room for expansion, too.

The structures will be cut from high-grade Canadian granite. I thought of photos of German pillboxes at Normandy. Not much artistry needed for 84 niches.

Are we ready for this? Are we in this town for eternity? I’ve got another birthday this week, they’re piling up, along with medical care stretching out to the crack of doom, ha-ha. Looks that way, anyway.  What about the veterans’ cemetery over in Anderson? We could drive over. Just to look.