Rectory

A Roman Catholic Philadelphia priest who has identified himself as "an online business owner" - a avocation not permitted by the church - has been removed as "unsuitable for ministry," Archbishop Charles J. Chaput announced on Sunday The Rev. Geraldo Pinero, former pastor of Incarnation of Our Lord Church, 5105 N. Fifth St. in the Olney neighborhood, had committed "a substantiated violation of the Standards of Ministerial Behavior and Boundaries," the...

Five years ago, a nationally acclaimed study documented how many urban congregations used their older buildings to provide essential services to their communities. The study found that the oldest and most fragile structures are in the city's poorest neighborhoods and are beyond the means of their congregations to maintain. This study foretold the fate of the rectory at the Church of the Advocate ("Little hope left for idea to renovate a rectory," Jan. 19). Last spring, a few days after the front porch and bay window had collapsed on the sidewalk, the trustees received notice from the city that the rectory was "imminently dangerous" and must be either "demolished or repaired immediately.

His was the typical Philadelphia Catholic family, the witness said. Mom and Dad were regulars at Mass. He and his sister helped out at the rectory. And no one was held in higher esteem than a priest. "We were raised with the belief that a priest never did anything wrong," he told a Common Pleas Court jury. In that sense, the man, now 45, echoed other alleged abuse victims at the landmark conspiracy and child-sex abuse trial of two Archdiocese of Philadelphia priests.

At first glance, the inside of the Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church in Mount Holly is impressive. Rows of high arches grace the sides of mahogany pews and richly detailed stained-glass windows line the walls. The church could serve as the setting for a gothic tale. But a closer look would show that the only setting for which the church has served lately is one of controversy. Perhaps as early as the middle of next year, the church and its adjacent rectory will move to a yet-to-be constructed building at High Street and Bartram Avenue, where the church school, convent and auditorium are. The plans, initially rejected by the township's Preservation Commission but then approved by the Township Council, have been a source of friction within the community.

The Rev. Thomas P. Gaynard, 64, pastor of Mother of Divine Providence Roman Catholic Church in King of Prussia, died of cancer Saturday at Mercy Fitzgerald Hospital in Darby. His parish of 1,800 families living in single homes on grassy lots was very different from the North Philadelphia neighborhood where he was raised. But Father Gaynard, who grew up in a rowhouse under the El, told his parishioners that the noise in his suburban rectory - abutting the Pennsylvania Turnpike - was louder than that of the trains.

Frankly, it doesn't seem anyplace is safe these days. Everywhere you look, houses and woodlands are haunted. There's a mad sexton over at the rectory, and down on the farm, folks are trying to rise from the dead. How does this affect you? Well, you have two choices: Stay home and work on your Halloween costume for next weekend's party, or go out there, face the creepy organ music and join in the fun already under way. For example, there's this Victorian house in Newtown that's a homeowner's nightmare: It gets struck by lightning once a minute.

OK, it's a pagan bacchanal. And yes, it's crawling with Aztec sun kings and Egyptian priests and voodoo witch doctors, strutting up Broad Street in honor of the god Momus. But over on Watkins Street in South Philadelphia is a man in a clerical collar praying for all those witches, clowns, King Jockeys and female impersonators in the Mummers Parade. He is Brother John Holt, an Augustinian monk. He's been the parade's unofficial chaplain since 1987. "It's a lot of fun. It gets me away from the routine of parish life," Brother John, 43, said with a laugh.

Hanging on the kitchen wall in the rectory of St. Laurence Roman Catholic Church in Upper Darby is this framed bit of philosophy: "Irish Diplomacy: The ability to tell a man to go to hell so that he looks forward to the trip. " The Rev. Francis J. Fitzmaurice, pastor of the church, smiles and says, "It's not that we'd ever want anyone to wind up there, but it's a good idea to keep a sense of humor in my business. " Father "Fitz," as he is affectionately known, isn't sure if his church is the largest in Delaware County, but with its 3,000 registered families and a ministry that includes the patients at Delaware County Memorial Hospital, it would seem that it's in the running.