SCHENECTADY — Hamilton Hill’s only Catholic church, offering the city’s only Spanish-speaking Mass, is closing its doors, unable to pay its bills.

It’s a disappointing conclusion for a congregation that hoped to breathe life into a dying church.

But at least the Hispanics at Sacred Heart-St. Columba’s are confident they will be relocated to another Catholic church in the city. The Craig Street church’s social services are devastated by the closure, because they minister to Hamilton Hill and need to stay in the neighborhood to continue their work. They are facing a future without any home at all.

The church runs the Schenectady chapter of Hispanic Outreach, works with gang members and drug dealers through the Quest arts program, and delivers food to more than 250 shut-ins. It also offers an English-speaking Mass to Hamilton Hill residents, many of whom walk to the church and can’t afford to put even a dollar in the collection plate, the Rev. Michael Hogan said. He’s not sure how — or if — those residents will be able to continue worshipping at a Catholic church.

“I think it’s sad. They’re wonderful, wonderful people,” he said. “There’s a sadness for people who have been going there all their lives.”

The English-speaking congregation doesn’t fill a quarter of the sanctuary now — on a good day, 60 to 70 people show up in a church built for 400, Hogan said. The Spanish Mass is much more popular, but even the 150 members of that congregation are just not enough to keep the church going.

So the parish leaders decided to ask Bishop Howard Hubbard of the Albany Roman Catholic Diocese to pull the plug. The last Mass is tentatively scheduled for June 29.

Hubbard must first rule on the request, but he is not expected to say no, Hogan said.

Hubbard had high hopes for saving the century-old church with Hispanic immigrants in search of the same services the church used to offer to every ethnicity in the city: native-language Masses, ministry, and traditions.

Hubbard sent Hogan to Mexico for a crash language-immersion program so he could minister to the burgeoning group. In 1991, the congregation started with just two congregants and four Spanish-speaking deacons.

More than 150 members now celebrate Mass at the church every Sunday, but even that growth is not enough to make ends meet, Hogan said.

HARD TIMES

“We’re not taking in enough to pay our bills,” he said. “The diocese has been subsidizing us for several months.”

A week ago, he had to tell his congregation their adopted home was unable to stay afloat. He will still preach in Spanish somewhere in the city, but it won’t be on Hamilton Hill.

Parishioners who had grown up in the Spanish-speaking church were shocked.

“We see how the community is growing and growing and growing,” said Olga Tapia, who grew up in Puerto Rico speaking Spanish before she moved to New York in 1981. “But it’s not enough.”

She was thrilled to hear the Mass in her native language when the services began.

“For me, God doesn’t speak English,” she said. “No, that’s a joke. Mostly. But seriously, the thing you lose when you’re immersing in a new culture is your religious background, to worship God in your own language.”

She speaks English fluently, but she said she still can’t pray in her adopted language.

“It is very easy to communicate, but when you’re talking about God — ay-yi-yi, that’s a different story,” she said. “Spanish is what I grew up with. That’s what I feel comfortable with.”

Not only is the English harder to understand, but the entire Mass has a different feel, said Fatima Toromoreno, who emigrated from Ecuador 10 years ago.

“When we go do the peace, everybody gets up and hugs everybody because that’s the tradition. In English churches they just shake hands,” she said. “It’s a feeling in your own language … you come here and it’s home. They understand you, they understand your culture. It’s like family.”

She left Ecuador with her family when she was 13. Although she’s fluent in English and doesn’t want to go back home, she loves the Ecuadorian traditions that are celebrated at the church. Patron saints from Hispanic countries are honored as well, and guitar players provide the music.

CRITICAL SERVICES

No one knows what will happen after the last Mass is celebrated at Sacred Heart-St. Columba’s. The Spanish-speaking congregation will likely be offered a special Mass at one of the city’s other churches, but the social service agencies may be forced to leave Hamilton Hill or spend precious resources leasing space in another building.

Hogan said the social services are his main focus as he tries to orchestrate a smooth closure.

“The parishes of the city have recognized we don’t want to abandon Hamilton Hill,” he said. “Hamilton Hill has to be our responsibility.”

But the agencies will likely have to move, he acknowledged.

“Quest is a very important program. There’s Hispanic Outreach services,” Hogan said. “The question is, how do we preserve it?”

Moving to a different Catholic church away from the Hill would badly damage both Quest and Hispanic Outreach, their directors said.

“It’s going to hurt us a lot,” said Hispanic Outreach site director Roselio Arias. “We’ve already built a network. It’s like starting from scratch again.”

Businesses on Hamilton Hill call him regularly when they have job openings, and he stays in close contact with all of them. Hispanic immigrants often walk or take the bus to his office, and volunteers work with children from the nearby Boys and Girls club and Carver Community Center.

“We’re also a nonprofit — the lease agreement here is very affordable. An office — we would definitely not be able to afford it,” Arias said.

Quest director Judy Atchinson is already looking for a new location, but says she is heartsick at the thought of losing her long-time space in the basement of the church. Her children have painted elaborate murals on the walls over the years, and that was the first thing she thought of when she realized she might have to move.

“I would lose the murals,” she said. “It would be a huge loss for the city, frankly. It’s folk art. It’s very fine work. Every artist that sees them says so.”

Hogan recruited Atchinson to start Quest in 1995, persuading the concert pianist to leave a lucrative job at Skidmore College. Atchinson said she felt somewhat betrayed to have the church close just 13 years later.

“I would still be working at Skidmore if it wasn’t for Father Hogan,” she said. “I just feel like I would lose my home.”

She won’t risk losing the program, though. She’s already looking for alternate locations, although she can’t afford to pay more than $500 a month. She was able to run Quest at Sacred Heart-St. Columba’s for free.