Soft Chairs, Warm Lights

Marriage is a great institution, if you don’t mind being institutionalized. So said the always quotable Mae West. Me, i would say the church is a great institution, if you don’t mind being institutionalized.

Think of your typical church basement. What screams INSTITUTION more than stacking tables and chairs (especially the panty-hose snagging wooden chairs...and don’t get me started on the haemorrhoid-inducing metal chairs)? Add in the overhead florescent lights and walls the color of whatever was on sale at Home Hardware 15 years ago and the hand-me-down early student sofa ...let’s just say it’s not a pretty sight.

What would it be like if we spent money to be hospitable?

St James Anglican church in Saskatoon has done just that. When the long-term lease of their parish hall to a Ukrainian dance school wasn’t renewed, they were faced with an opportunity. Situated between the university and Broadway Avenue’s thriving arts community, St James decided to transform the parish hall to serve the community, and The Refinery was born. It took renovation and commitment, and most of all, an embrace of the spiritual practice of hospitality.

Today, The Refinery is a place for tai chi and yoga, book launches, art shows, belly dancing and meditation, quilting, concerts, local theatre troups, the Fringe and its own box office (yes, they take VISA), to mention just a sampling. Refinery events often spill over into St James’ church basement.

Visiting last week, i met with several folk, including The Refinery’s staffer, Cynthia Dyck, an energetic and forthright theatre person turned arts administrator. We met in the reception area of The Refinery, a large yet intimate room with soft chairs and warm lights. In the center of the room is a seating area with matching sofas and comfy chairs, strategically placed on a tasteful carpet. Around the edges of the room are some retro chrome kitchen tables and chairs, each table boasting an individually decorated table lamp. A couple of tall cafe tables with stools give lots of options for intermission conversation. The kitchen offers up wine, beer, coffee, soft drinks and water to thirsty thespians. As Cynthia and i met, a group arrived to set up for that evening’s concert reception – “Wow, this doesn’t look anything like a church basement,” said one.

i asked Cynthia what churches might do to be more hospitable to artists. Among other things, she said to ditch the florescent lights and go for something warmer. Get rid of stacking tables. Get rid of anything that says INSTITUTION in favour of something that says COME IN. This includes our heavy exterior wooden doors, which church folk think look lovely but project the image of fortress and secrecy.

Perhaps it’s time we in the church stopped settling for good-enough-for-the-church-but-I-wouldn’t-want-it-in-my-own-living-room cast offs. i’m not suggesting a return to the days of the Ladies’ Parlour (a lavish room that very few were actually allowed to use). But imagine if we furnished our sacred spaces not only to welcome the community in, but to say, you are important to us, you are an honoured guest here. Could we spend money on hospitality, not in the hope that we would get something back (maybe they’ll join our congregation, especially to be hoped for if they have kids), but as the spiritual practice of our faith? Could we spend money on hospitality because we love our neighbours, because we care about the community?

What does hospitality look like to you personally? To your faith community? Are those two streams of hospitality different – if so, how? What would a generous hospitality look like in your own life? In the life of your faith community?