Culture

The archive, a preserver of the grand historical events as well as the oft-overlooked histories of ordinary people, is virtually essential for the potential connection with our future generations.

Small, everyday occurrences tend to be overshadowed by history's grand, extraordinary, or abnormal events. On the surface, worldly events such as the French Revolution or the "discovery" of the Americas seem to offer far more value, compared to the seemingly mundane lives of average humans. I, too, have found myself repeatedly entranced by these dramatic events; ones so monumental, that they seem almost unreal, as if drawn from fiction.
Up until my time at the Archives at the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Boston, I regularly neglected the small prosaic events, ignorant of the treasure trove of human connection they revealed. From consolidating an entire decade's worth of parish correspondence to sifting through vintage photograph after vintage photograph, I was able to discover countless stories of regular people's lives and gain a look into a particular community that is, at first glance, quite unassuming to the untrained eye; in this case, the community being the archdiocese.

Approaching the first day of my internship at the Archives I was quite nervous -- not fully knowledgeable of the tasks that awaited me, nor was I certain of my interest in this department. I had a certain image of an archive in my mind, and, as a result, shaped my apprehensions around this misconception. My misgivings were, however, quickly alleviated through the welcoming energy of my coworkers, who kindly and patiently introduced and guided me through the various projects I would undertake, the first of which consumed most of my brief six-week internship. This project, in particular, provided me with fascinating glimpses into the lives of parishioners from the 1970s.
While sitting in the stacks, filing dated parish correspondence, I happened to start to read the paper I was holding, a letter from an upset parishioner. Despite the arguably unremarkable content of the letter, I became completely enthralled. What people chose to complain about -- and how they framed these complaints -- offered me a window into both the societal changes and continuities that have shaped us. Issues that were once regarded to be so controversial and scandalous, for example, changing the parish you belong to, have become normalized, in a sense, while many other traditions have remained intact.
What additionally piqued my interest was the significance of the archdiocese, not just on a national level, but also internationally. While working on a photograph exhibit, I flipped through the extensive photograph collection, where I found images of Boston's archbishops alongside notable international figures, the president of Ireland among them. It led me to recognize the breadth of the impact that modest, local communities can have, a quasi "Butterfly-Effect." What we do, even on the smallest of scales, has a ripple effect, impacting those around us and gradually extending further and further outward, reaching more people than we might ever realize. Our actions, no matter how seemingly insignificant, contribute to a larger web of influence, shaping not only our immediate surroundings but also potentially touching distant lives in ways we may never fully comprehend. This interconnectedness underlines the importance of even the most minute decisions and behaviors, as they can set off a chain reaction that extends far beyond our initial circle.
The archive, a preserver of the grand historical events as well as the oft-overlooked histories of ordinary people, is virtually essential for the potential connection with our future generations. By keeping a collection of intimate, human moments, we can foster a more fundamental understanding of the people of the past, thus instituting a strong foundation for local history. This allows us to see history not just as a series of major events, but as a tapestry woven from the everyday lives of ordinary individuals. In doing so, we build a connection to the past that feels personal and meaningful, ensuring that the rich heritage of local communities remains alive and relevant for future generations.
My time at the Archives has been -- despite its brevity -- profoundly informative in numerous ways: it has enhanced my academic pursuits, as well as provided me with a unique perspective on studying history, to name a few. Although I have always been a big proponent of looking to the past to understand the present and to prophesize the future, I can now appreciate the vital role common people and local community play in this process. As I travel to Germany to begin my Bachelor (of Political Science) at the University of Bremen this October, I am eager to apply these newfound insights to support my studies, especially in my history minor. This experience has not only reshaped my approach to studying history but has also broadened my general outlook on life.

Julia Kierul recently completed a six-week internship assisting at the Archdiocesan Archives.

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