Members of the First Universalist Church of Southold hugged one another closely this morning, weeping openly only hours after their beloved, historic church burned to the ground in a raging inferno.
The group gathered at the Custer Institute to mourn, share memories, and support one another, according to Pastor Jeff Gamblee, who led the service.
Gamblee began the service by carrying a large, white wooden sign, with the words First Universalist Church painted on the front. The sign, he said, had been saved by firemen who were on the scene of the blaze this morning, knocking down portions of the building and searching for hot spots in the still-smoking structure.
Only a few minutes later, tears flowed among congregants as a firefighter walked quietly into the room and placed the blackened church bell, saved from the rubble, on a table, a piece of their collective history rescued.
“We’re grieving,” said one woman, standing outside this morning
But, added Regan Batuello, “It’s just a building.”
That theme was echoed throughout the service, as, one by one, members of the church stood to share their memories of last night’s tragedy and to remind one another that it is the people, not the building, that creates a church.
Her eyes filled with tears, Mary Grace Benoloch said, “I’m very sad. My son and niece came of age with this community.” The congregation is a community, she added, saying the group shares so much more than just Sunday mornings, engaging in a long list of events together.
The smell of smoke seemed to envelope the room as many filed in who’d come from the smoking wreckage on Main Road.
“I can’t help but be sad,” said David Markel. The church, he said, has stood in the community since the 1800s, and had only recently seen improvements, such as a tuned-up organ and new floor in the parish hall.
But, he said, “It’s the people that make the church. Everything comes and goes. It’s the way of life. Today feels like a funeral.”
Alan Stewart spoke passionately about the church that has played a starring role in his life. Tears running down his face, he said. “This is my church. I watched it burn. It was everything. The one constant in my life.”
Stewart thanked all the first responders, who showed compassion in the face of tragedy. “You could see it in their eyes,” Stewart said, adding that they understood the magnitude of the loss.
“I’m an old soldier. You just have to take it as it comes,” said Thornton Smith, who said he woke his wife when he heard the news. The two are longtime members of the Unitarian Universalist church.
Standing before his congregation, Gamblee was visibly shaken. “I must have missed the day at seminary when they talked about what to do when your church burns down,” he said. “We’re going to have to figure this out together.”
It’s too soon, and wounds are too raw, to begin thinking about whether or not the church will be rebuilt, he said.
“We are gathering this morning to grieve, to speak the tragedy into reality. One of the things we do as a community is to talk. We tell our stories.”
He added, “This is the time to talk, to remember, to grieve, to weep. We lost something dear, a place where generations have noted life moments, dedications of children, coming of ages, weddings, funerals. You don’t have to tell anyone how you feel. They know. You don’t have to feel embarrassed or ashamed that you are so hurt.”
But he reminded. “It was a building.” The church remains, he said, in each and every member who gathered this morning.
“I had to question my beliefs,” said Ceil Loucka. “To hope that you would be protected because you believe — it doesn’t work that way.”
Trustee John Wissemann spoke about 80 years of memories in his church.
Batuello, as a youth leader, said now is the time to stand strong for the young people in the church. “Our job now is to show them how to deal with loss with grace — and to show them that this is not the loss of their church.”
One woman said while the church looked like a bombed-out war zone, in fact, no one had attacked the church because of the faith of its people.
Trustee Dan Durett said he drove up and saw the emergency vehicles and was told he couldn’t pass. “I told them, ‘I’m a trustee, that’s my church,” he said, weeping.
But he said it was appropriate that this morning’s gathering was held at Custer, where you can see the stars. “Each of you has been a star in my life,” he said.
Stuart spoke of all his memories, and mourned the mural that had been consumed by flames. “It felt as though I was stabbed in the heart,” he said, describing how he felt when he learned the painting was gone.
He mentioned Peggy Richards, who saw her church burn after her home was destroyed by fire last month; Richards has been staying in the church’s parsonage, which was not destroyed. “I cannot imagine the horror. I am so glad you weren’t hurt,” he said.
Together, as they drank coffee and shared hugs and memories, the congregation gathered strength in one another and in their mission to move forward.
“This is an opportunity for us to be much stronger,” Smith said. Thankfully, he echoed the main thing to hold onto: “There was no loss of life.”
Remembering candlelit Christmas Eves and decades of stories where the church played a major role, the members opened their hearts, joining hands and beginning the journey toward healing, together.
Frank Conti recalled seeing his childhood church in Brooklyn burn and his father’s promise that it could be rebuilt. He said the church could be rebuilt in much the same way and said, tears in his eyes, that what remained was priceless: “It’s the people.”
Add Dr. Xavier Amador, “The church exists right now, right here.”
