The lovely little rock church in our neighborhood is where we have attended church for nearly three decades now. It feels like home. It looks beautiful, but it is a bit small for the three congregations that use it for their services. It’s especially noticeable now because of the need to social distance during this eternal pandemic.
The LDS Church no longer uses this particular chapel design, because it’s so small. They built two additions at one point, enlarging the Relief Society and Primary rooms. With those additions came two doors that open only from the inside. There is no handle or keyhole on the outside, which bothers me every time I take a load of goods that need to go to the Relief Society room. I’m not sure why these doors can only open from the inside. I suspect it’s for safety or building code reasons.
I call these our Jesus doors. They remind me of the art that depicts Jesus knocking. He won’t force himself to come in, you have to admit him.
But it feels backwards in this setting. In that space that is set apart to welcome all to enter, it kind of feels like we imply “stay out, unless we let you in.” I think this would make Jesus sad. Fortunately, the main doors swing wide open from inside and out.
Temples, yes, they are exclusive by nature, open to those who live certain covenants with exactness. For example, to put a child behind the wheel of a car without them knowing and proving and believing in the principles that make that machine work correctly would be harmful to the kid, and others on the road. Likewise, those holy ordinances performed in the temple must be exclusive. But our chapels? I hope not.
When my cousin Rod passed away we drove to Pocatello for his funeral. I remember walking through the hall past a row of fellows wearing Lions Club vests. The stale scent of cigarette smoke enveloped them as they stood among us to pay their respects. It completely warmed my heart. I inhaled on purpose, offering a silent prayer of thanks for the open arms of my cousin, and the generous hearts of these men who joined a brotherhood of service and loved their departed brother. Rod, I believe, had served as Bishop or Branch President in a small church unit on the Blackfoot Indian Reservation. Their meetings started somewhere around the top of the hour, or there abouts. Their people came dressed in a colorful variety of clothing, sometimes without shoes. But the Holy Sacrament prayer was exactly the same, and the Lord they worshiped was ours as well. A group of members of their Native American Drum Circle played and sang a prayer that was both joyful and mournful from the front of the chapel during the service.
The closing hymn in Rod’s funeral was “To Nephi, Seer of Olden Time”. That’s probably not a song many LDS people have sung at funerals. But when we got to the chorus it became obvious… “Hold to the Rod, the iron rod. ‘Tis strong and bright and true! The iron ROD is the word of God, ‘twill safely guide us through.” (I’m fairly certain Rod, using that familial humor, requested that song for his funeral.) But in all seriousness, I think it carried a double entendre’… multiple meanings. Yes, hold to the word of God in exactness, and you will not get lost.
But for me, it also meant that I could follow Rod’s example. My cousin showed that a faithful arm can be very long, and stretch a bit to the edge of the walkway, and still be holding on to the firmly planted principles of the Gospel of Christ. It allows for a larger, more diverse crowd to be on the path.
I understand the sense of faith and devotion that comes with the mind and heart that believes in a narrow conduit to God. And I also understand the belief that all roads lead to home, and we will get there, even if the route takes longer than necessary.
I am grateful for the Jesus who called to sinners to follow him. I am honored to be among those sinners. I trust He is willing to show us the way and is patient with our spiritual ADHD handicaps.
This Easter Sunday we will gather in our respective places and partake of the wisdom of our prophet and apostles. I love thinking of apostles teaching us on this Holy weekend.
This is the day, Maundy Thursday, when Jesus gave a new commandment, to love all mankind in the manner in which He had shown us… in the manner in which He continues to show us. No longer the exclusive pattern of acceptance the Law of Moses had mandated. This new love was open armed.
We are called, we believers in Christ, to live this law of love. So if you want to worship, and you smell of smoke, or drink, or you shake with withdrawals, come sit beside me. If you have tatoos, or multiple piercings, or have lost your teeth or don’t own a pair of dress shoes, or your skin is a different color … come sit with my family. If you are gay, or transgender, or suffer from bi-polar depression or can’t keep yourself from looking at pictures on the internet… you are safe in the pew beside my friends and me. Come and be healed with the rest of us.
I encourage the good people with whom I worship to make our chapels figuratively larger than our “cultural” halls. When Jesus knocks, and we open the door, He is generally not alone.
