Preaching to the Window

It was Dave who called attention to the irony.  We had been visiting with the pastor about the shape and character of their ministry, and he had unambiguously narrowed the focus to worship.  Deep worship and good preaching.  When I asked about other programming he mentioned a Wednesday night Bible study, but "we don't expect people to live here" he retorted.  As to activities or involvements with the community, he dismissed the notion.  "I don't much care for other preachers, and we're not here to be a community center."  They don't, he went to amplify, make the building available for birthday parties or the like.  "Let them mess up their own houses," he chortled.  

Recently, as church savings had begun to accrue, someone had suggested they help fund a Habitat for Humanity project in the area, but the pastor had quashed the idea.  They were concentrating on getting their own house in order, he explained, which involved endowing the pastoral position.

Finishing our conversation, he handed us off to one of the docents to interpret for us the famous Matisse and Chagall stained-glass windows.  The Matisse is a rose window behind the altar.  Facing it from the back wall -- facing the preacher as he or she proclaims the Word -- is an immense design by Marc Chagall depicting the parable of the Good Samaritan.  That was the irony that Dave had discerned:  in this edifice made famous by its depiction of the one who went out of his way to help, apparently worships a congregation who routinely passes by on the other side of the road.