Over 20 years ago, I was heavily involved with a group in the Episcopal Church focusing on church growth and renewal called Start Up/Start Over. They did extensive research on everything from forms of worship and building design, to why people were attracted or repulsed by a particular parish. One of the things they observed is that most people essentially make their mind up within five minutes of whether they will return to a particular church. It essentially means that they need to be met on their way from the parking lot to the door. At a minimum it requires members of the congregation to be sensitive to the presence of newcomers and try to make them feel at ease and welcome. This reflects true Christian hospitality and is something Jesus would have applauded. Those who remain in their little clique and ignore people who are not members, communicate loudly that you are not welcome or you are insignificant. Sounds very Pharisaic to me.

I am particularly troubled by the treatment that the mother with the four-year-old daughter with Down’s syndrome received. I wonder if any of the members of the congregation had even bothered to read the Bible. Ministering to the less fortunate is a prime call of a true Christian. I remember an article that appeared in the diocesan newspaper of the Catholic Church in St. Louis about 40 years ago. One of the children was a little boy with Down’s syndrome. When his family joined the church he was very young, probably four or five. If the children were given a project such as coloring a picture of Jesus with the little children, he would do things like a purple sky and blue tree. It never resembled what a more ordinary child might do. When he showed his work to the class, the other kids would make fun of him. “Look at the dummy; he never gets anything right.” “He’s too stupid to know what to do.” And the like. It never fazed the little boy. He always remained cheerful.

One Easter Sunday, the Sunday school teacher gave each of the children a plastic egg, the kind you put jellybeans in, and told them to go outside and find a sign of new life and put it in the egg. When the children returned, each showed off what he or she found. One might have the shell of a robin egg, another the first iris of spring. And so it went until it was time for the little boy with Down’s syndrome to show what he had. He opened it and there was nothing there. All the children laughed and started making fun of him again. The little boy said, “The tomb is empty.” The classroom immediately became silent as the other children absorbed the profound message he had shared. Several years later the boy with Down’s syndrome died. Like many with his condition, he had other physical problems as well. At his funeral, his whole Sunday school class came in and put empty plastic eggs on his coffin. One insignificant, defective, small person who understood better than anyone else. In my experience that is how God often works. We are frequently too quick to judge and categorize and miss the true spirit of the kingdom of God and His love for all. “Whoevers” every one.

Then there is the “pretty box” syndrome. Too many churches are wrapped around the quality of their performance or the magnificence of their physical structure. How many times have we heard a complaint from the congregation, “If we only had a better building or better audio/visual equipment, more people would come.” I have often thought that revival in the Church would be best promoted by tearing down all the buildings, getting rid of all the fancy accoutrements and meeting in an open lot. All that would be left would be the authentic message. Maybe we should get rid of the fancy boxes. Some of the most authentic spaces in which I have worshipped were very modest with limited financial resources. But the presence of God was palpable.

Anthony DeMello, who spent most of his life training other Jesuit priests how to be effective pastors, wrote a book called Contact with God (actually compiled from his teachings after he died). In his introductory remarks to a new group he would compliment them on all the things they accomplished and how they were the best of the best of the Church. He would go on to say that they could not wait to get in the pulpit and tell the man in the pews all about God. Then Anthony would say, “You miss the point. The man in the pews does not want to be told about God and he has two questions for you. Have you ever had an experience of God? How can I have one?” Being in the presence of the divine and being touched by Him. Understanding how the mind of God works and being transformed by it so that we resemble Him more authentically in the real world. That is something we all seek whether we know it or not. This is what will save humankind and give the Church back its relevance.

As always, you’ve made a profound point with humor. I hope you get more followers. You have so much to share.