Who owns a church? Is it the people who attend services every Sunday or the people who donate the most money? Or perhaps it is the bishops and/or the denomination’s national office. What about the elderly shut-ins who gave time and money for decades when they were able? Do they own their church?
Who gets to keep the property after a schism? If the majority of a congregation disagrees with the bishop, do they get to keep the church? Why should people who left a church get to come back and take ownership? But if they left because the pastor made them uncomfortable and pushed them out wouldn’t it be just for them to get the church? But shouldn’t they have stayed and fought it out voicing their disagreement? What if the emotional price to stay was so high people had to leave to keep their sanity?
I was once told God owns a church. But what does God need a building for when he owns the whole universe? Weren’t churches built with the sweat and tears of our ancestors? So don’t we have at least tenant’s rights?
Who owns a church? We all do. The people who attend services, the people who donate time and money, the elderly, the people whose ancestors built the church, the bishops.
How do you get these people talking to each other not at each other? How do you work things out in a religious community? I am not sure. But if we say it is human nature and nothing can be done, we will never figure it out. There must be a way. We all own our churches in scared trust with God. We need to live and work together growing in faith in our churches despite our differences. No one should ever be kicked out. Church should be the home you can come back to no matter what you think and say. No matter if you are happy or sad or angry. I want church to be the place where everyone can go and feel the protective embrace of God.
I love church. That thought came to me in December 2006 while speaking to the rector at the Episcopal Church in my community. I called him. I had been following the conflict between the local diocese and his church. When a gay bishop was appointed in New England, this rector protested even though he risked losing his church. I admire his courage. He doesn’t see it as courage. He believes he has just been responding to anti-Christian forces within his own denomination. It started more than ten years ago, he said. The appointment of a gay bishop was just the culmination of a movement away from orthodox Christianity. The rector believes a national gay organization has been planning a takeover for a long time. Not because “they have any love for the church but because they can.” His love for his faith touched me. I love it, too, I thought.
I have loved church since I was small. On summer afternoons when we had little to do, my older siblings would walk me over to our parish church. Kneeling at the altar rail in the dark sanctuary I felt I was near God. Once I even thought I saw Jesus’ face in the tabernacle. Perhaps it was just the shadows of the late afternoon combining with a small child’s imagination. Or maybe it was really God. I didn’t feel scared. I was safe.
Raised in a neglectful and abusive home I became disenchanted with religion especially the Catholic Church and left. I forgot I love church. For fifteen years I didn’t go to any church. When my children reached school age I learned about Unitarian Universalism. Their claims of tolerance and support of women’s rights attracted me. I decided to raise my children as Unitarian Universalists. With my interest in religion reawakened I spent the next decade exploring my spirituality.
In 1993 the UU congregation I belonged to called a lesbian to be our minister. When I expressed some discomfort with the choice I was shunned and called a bigot. Disillusioned I left. UU’s weren’t as open and tolerant as I thought they were. Two years later I tried another UU church. I was reading books by Marcus Borg, a Bible scholar and member of the Jesus Seminar. I shared my renewed interest in Christianity with my friends at church. This threatened a woman who called herself a pagan. When I defended myself against her public attack on me, I was forced out of the congregation.
Despite everything I love church. I love the stone walls, the carved wood pews, the sunlight shinning on the cross. I love the smell of incense, the dim light of candles and the colorful vestments. I love the singing. I love the mass. In church it is like God is encircling his arms around me. No one can hurt me there. I am safe. Church inspires me to live a full, rich ethical life. I love church.
