When Matthew Roy first came to Seven Days in 2014 to interview for what became his news editor position, publisher Paula Routly showed him around the office. That included the bathroom, but not in an offhand, “Oh, there’s the loo” way; the room was the highlight of the tour. Painted Pepto-Bismol pink, it was and still is crammed with religious art — primarily Catholic. Think statuettes of saints, devotional items, sacred hearts, a puppet of a nun wearing boxing gloves, an antique DIY reliquary.
Roy recalled being surprised and tickled. “That’s because, these days, it takes a wedding or a funeral to compel me to enter any kind of house of worship.” Still, the former altar boy added, when leaving “the Shrine” he felt a pang of guilt.
I did not grow up Catholic and felt no remorse during my yearslong obsession with objects from what I consider an esoteric, extravagant faith. I was drawn to Mary/Madonna, the pantheon of saints, angels, Day of the Dead figurines and the like. (I even got a Sacred Heart tattoo.)
The Seven Days bathroom became an auxiliary site for my collection. Over the years staffers have added such gems as an “I Honk for Jesus” bumper sticker and a startling priapic figure that is suspiciously pagan. The trove grew slightly more pan-religious. As art director Diane Sullivan put it, “I think the Shrine leans a little Unitarian Universalist and is welcoming to all religions. I’m 99 percent certain there are representatives of Judaism, Buddhism and Hinduism in there.”
Still, in a room where one might sit, or stand, and contemplate the wild range of human beliefs, one item stands out: the Last Rites box. I found this in an antique store decades ago and was fascinated by its emergency supply of deathbed accoutrements — a tiny vial of holy water, a linen napkin, candles and so on. The wooden box is delicate, so I attached to it a sticky note that reads: “Fragile. Do not open. Unless last rites are needed.” The note has clung, er, religiously to the box ever since.
When I retired last year, I bequeathed the care of the Shrine to Sullivan, another lapsed Catholic. Even though cleanliness is next to godliness, the room has not been dusted lately. But she aspires to paint the walls “a good holy color like deep red or rich purple.”
Meantime, the Shrine remains a popular must-see on office tours — except for that one visitor, a human resources consultant, who told deputy publisher Cathy Resmer that it was “an HR nightmare.”
This article appears in 30th Birthday Issue.
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