Whited sepulchers or living stones?
Many churches have signs declaring that all are welcome. But are their buildings really inviting to the community around them?
I don’t know how many times I’ve heard it. Whenever I open the doors of Grace Episcopal Church in Madison, where I serve, during the week or on Saturdays and people wander in, someone will say, “I’ve walked past this church for years and have never been inside.”
Such statements don’t surprise me anymore. Most Madison residents who walk the sidewalks of Capitol Square are on their way somewhere: to work, to a restaurant or concert, to the farmer’s market or a demonstration, or back home. When we walk like that, with a destination in mind, we rarely take time to notice our surroundings. Our attention is diverted from our journey’s goal or our phone screen only if something in our peripheral vision distracts us, something new or different, a door that’s opened, beckoning us into unfamiliar space, when every other time we’ve passed by it has been closed.
Even so, if the door is open and we notice it, will we take the opportunity to walk in, to encounter the space hidden behind those heavy wooden doors? Likely not, after all, we’re not just out for a stroll. We’re on our somewhere, to work or home, to the farmer’s market, or returning from the market carrying heavy bags full of vegetables. We don’t have time or the inclination. We might even think that the invitation of an open door is not meant for us.
