The importance of sittability

As a collector of church buildings, I’ve tried to figure out what makes some good and others not-so-good and concluded it may be sittability, by which I mean when you walk up to it, it says “come in” and when you do, it says “sit down and stay a while.” And when you do that, too, you don’t feel alone --- even if the lights are turned off and the candles, if any, aren’t lighted.

Counting my cathedrals the other day, I decided St. Patrick’s in New York, the Washington National Cathedral and St. Louis in New Orleans had never spoken to me --- although St. Louis whispered. It probably was the herds of tourists like me, enough to rattle any good building and cause it to heave a sign of relief and go to sleep when they’ve gone.

It’s not stained glass, although that can be nice --- especially in a city where the view isn’t that great anyway. It’s not the organ, although if there is one I prefer pipes and pipes where I can them without getting the feeling I’m supposed to worship the instrument.

It surely isn’t size. Surely nothing can be drearier and lonelier and emptier than a contemporary “mega-church,” carpeted barn with padded seats, theater lights and a sound system. Good settings for good shows maybe, but hardly a place to worship.

And sadly, it’s harder these days to get in even if the old church says “come in.” In a day and age when the answer to the question “Is nothing sacred?” is “No,” they’re nearly all locked. That’s understandable. Arson took down Burlington’s grand old First United Methodist a couple of weeks ago, and two of my all-stars --- Somber Lutheran east of Lake Mills and St. Mary’s of Rosemont, a few miles from Lacona --- also have been intentionally burned to the ground within the last few years.

So here’s my sittable nomination for the day --- the old Presbyterian church in Bentonsport, perched on a minuscule point half way down the bluff that separates this Iowa-ancient Des Moines riverside village from higher ground to the east. Minimal parking, no plumbing and no stained glass (although only trees, sky and air are visible through the clear glass here and that’s just as good). No central heating, an old reed organ and a congregation only during the summer. Still, the old lady always says, “come in, sit down and rest yourself.”