But also, the beginning of something new.
Today, the congregation of St. Luke’s of the Mountains Anglican Church worshipped in their old stone sanctuary for the last time. The court battle is over; the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles has won. What they’ll do with the historic building is anybody’s guess; it’s not at all clear that they can scrape together a large enough congregation to pay the bills.
It’s a sad moment. Jane and I were married at St. Luke’s and went to church their for the first twenty years of our marriage; our children were baptized there; and Jane grew up there.
Meanwhile, the congregation is looking ahead. Next Sunday they’ll be gathering for worship at a nearby chapel, and after services this Sunday they went down to take a look at it and have Coffee Hour, courtesy of a taco truck.
What are they leaving behind? The property, the old stone church, the stained glass, the pews, the prayer books, the dishes, the office equipment, the pencils, the crayons, the boxes of kleenex and rolls of toilet paper…and a message. This morning, the church sign at St. Luke’s quoted the 10th chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews:
You sympathized with those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions.
I wonder how long it will take the new owners to get the words on the sign changed.
The View from the Foothills 
Probably in a New York minute, but let’s hope not 🙂
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God bless the congregation for its witness. May the Lord restore it all four-fold.
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Will,
I remember one time that a much-beloved chapel in Arizona had to close, and after several sales the building was sold and became a bar. A former parishioner wrote to the diocesan newspaper bemoaning the sacrilege of hanging a beer sign on the building.
The bishop answered the letter, condemning, not the sacrilege of repurposing the building, but rather the near-idolatry of the letter writer. “What makes a building a church?” he asked rhetorically. “Not the shape of the roof, nor stained glass, nor an organ, but the people of God gathered to hear His word and celebrate His sacraments.”
We thank Him for giving us the house for a time, and we are saddened when a particular congregation must leave it, but we must remember that, in the old Dutch hymn:
“What is this place where we are standing?
Only a house, the earth its floor,
Walls and a roof, sheltering people,
Windows for light, an open door:
Yet it becomes a body that lives
When we are gathered here
And know that Thou art near.”
The house, alas, now stands empty. The Church goes on, wherever there are lips to proclaim and ears to hear the Gospel. I pray for the unity of the Church, that we may never need squabble among ourselves over who has the right to meet in which house. Today’s Gospel reading (Mark 10:35-45) seems ironically appropriate to such a dispute.
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Very, very true, Kevin.
There were some in the congregation who favored simply yielding the building to the diocese when the dispute first started; eventually we (at that time it was still “we”) decided that we needed to stand up to intimidation.
It’s a sad thing all round.
This is a particularly beautiful building, by the way; it’s really *the* landmark in our town, which makes leaving it all the harder. But when all is said and done it’s a building. We call it a church, but as you say it is not The Church.
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