Leaving Gifts as Well as Taking

He came across as wily -- or perhaps cagey.  The introduction matched the preliminary impression I had gleaned from emails we had exchanged arranging our visit.  He seemed to prefer sparse communication -- a few words, emotionally economized.  After the fact, our group members were conflicted as to just what to make of him.  After listening to our introductory summary of the reason for our visit, he ajudged with a mocking laugh that we were "goldbricking," pursing little that was likely to further the cause of the gospel.  But he was happy to visit with us if we wished.

He seemed to enjoy parrying our questions.  When I asked what drew him to this particular church, he curtly responded that he had been "called."  When we asked if it could sometimes be intimidating to have the Rockefellers in your congregation, he dismissed the suggestion, avowing -- somewhat unbelievably we thought -- that he hadn't really even known of their involvement until after arrived, despite his later admission that Mrs. Rockefeller had served on the Call Committee.

He took great pains to insist that despite the artistically significant windows by Matisse and Chagall that drew a steady stream of visitors, that this is a church, not a museum.  It's reason for existing is to gather people for worship, not to gather people to gawk or even necessarily to gather people to serve.  "This isn't a community center," he asserted.

But finally, as we continued to press and explore the nature of ministry at this curiously magnificent little church, he said it:

"This is a unique place." 

That's what I had been waiting to hear.  It is different.  Indeed.

After all his protestations about the ordinariness of his church -- all the reasons it is just like any other, with "real people" gathering for solid worship and good preaching -- I would like to think we left him a gift of terroir-related insight.  Along with those very accurate elements held in common with congregations the world over, his little flock is nonetheless unique; that their Rockefellers and their windows and their busloads of tourists and their symbiotic relationship with the local historical society codified in the legally crafted "sweetheart deal you would die for" indelibly influence the taste of their place.

And so we "goldbrickers" took our leave, sensing that unlike the other interviews, we gave, in this one, more than we got.

Fair enough.  We did enjoy the windows.