As time passes, people are forgotten.

Age-old buildings act as historical icons in the communities they occupy, but the hands of their builders — their histories, hopes and aspirations — become long-lost artifacts discoverable only by those close to them. But even then, a piece of the past is lost.

St. Vladimir Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church almost seems a greeting into the borough of Palmerton, being one of the first structures visible off Route 248. It’s a perfect example of a history that structurally, is evident to all who pass by its cream-colored, castlesque structure, but ancestrally, requires a step inside, and probably a conversation, to truly comprehend.

As the church secretary, Jim Chalus spends most of his time in the church directory located behind St. Vladimir’s. Chalus has been particularly busy this past year, as he’s helped the church prepare for its centennial celebration.

Beckoned to Palmerton

Like many relics, St. Vladimir Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church has a complicated history. Immigrants from Ukraine began populating Pennsylvania’s coal regions as early as 1870, but it wasn’t until 1905 that approximately 25 families made their home in Palmerton.

“A lot of the people that were in this parish came over from Ukraine,” Chalus said.

Chalus’ grandfather, like a number of others, was living in Ukraine when he received a letter, inviting him to work at the New Jersey Zinc Company. “(The letter) told them how to get here, and where the company was located,” Chalus recalled.

The majority of those families came from three different regions of Ukraine: Halychyna (Eastern Galicia), Bukovina and Zakarpatska Rus (Carpathian Ruthenia). In the beginning, Ukrainian families in Palmerton were known as “Rusyns,” a designation not adopted by those from Bukovina and Halychyna, who simply called themselves Ukrainians.

In the earlier 20th century, the only Catholic Church in the borough was the Sacred Heart Latin Rite Church, and while the belief system is no different, both the Ukrainians and the Rusyns desired to practice in their own Byzantine Rite Church.

“A lot of your Eastern rite people didn’t like to go to a Roman Catholic mass because first of all it was in Latin, and they didn’t understand Latin,” Chalus said. “Our liturgy is different — not real different ... But it is different.”

Traveled to worship

For that reason, Chalus said, the Ukrainians and the Rusyns would travel to churches in either Lansford, Nesquehoning or Northampton to attend Sunday morning mass, often on foot. Over time, the decision was made to erect a home church in the borough.

“They finally got tired of traveling and said let’s build a Byzantine church (in Palmerton),” Chalus said.

A committee formed with four Rusyns, Basil Bobita, Julius Gordos, Andrew Palos and Peter Terpay.

The four successfully negotiated a lease with the zinc company for the Lehigh Gap School, which was originally located behind what is now St. Peter & Paul Byzantine Catholic Church.

Then, in February 1915, the Ukrainians and the Rusyns decided to build a church of their own, under the stipulation that at any one time, the positions of priest or cantor must be held by Ukrainian, and the other, a Rusyn.

But neither party had a chance to hold up their end of the bargain.

“For reasons unknown — and nobody has ever given me a straight answer of why that happened — the Ukrainians picked up their baseball bat, their glove and they went on home,” Claus said. “They bought this piece of property from the Palmerton Land Company and built their own church.”

That was in 1918.

After the split, the Ukrainians went to work on what would become St. Vladimir’s. The church’s early parishioners built the church themselves, digging its foundation by hand in an effort to cut costs.

Since its conception, the church has undergone renovations.

Carpet has taken the place of wood flooring, and rough, coarse benches have been replaced by smooth wooden pews. Upon entering the church, one of its most notable improvements through time has been the addition of its iconostasis.

But Chalus doesn’t see the church pushing on much further. In his view, declining attendance, coupled with the fact that a large majority of the church’s parishioners are older, make the institution’s future grim.

“All churches are kind of losing their people and dying out,” Chalus told me. “In my own personal opinion, this is probably going to be a last hurrah for this church.”

Even if Claus is correct, St. Vladimir’s centennial anniversary, taking place this Sunday, is expected to be filled with parishioners and their families, gathering together to celebrate a church that began, and will most likely end, with a people’s desire to build a home and history for themselves.