Sacred Space

Room for ALL BELIEFS

Story By LEE HILLKAVANAUGH
Photos By David Pulliam
The Kansas City Star April 19, 2000

Every day, Hundreds of drivers rush past Pilgrim Chapel, the tiny English Gothic church at 38th Street Road.

For years, people rarely stopped to visit the old stone structure with creeping ivy weaving a green carpet on its walls.

But that is changing. Pilgrim Chapel offers simple gifts for those who venture through its doors: a place to worship or meditate, a place for a wedding or funeral service for those who have no church, or just a place to pause during theHectic commute of life. Here, everyone is welcomed. All religions—Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu or New Age.

People are not judged for there beliefs. At this church, any religious expression is acceptable and valid. The chapel draws people, whom sociologists have dubbed the "unchurched, “ those who have no regular church home.

“We have some people who just pop in during the week for a few minutes of quiet time before beading to work," says Roger Coleman. Coleman and his wife, Liz, both ordained ministers, bought the structure in 1997 and reopened it in 1998.

"Were becoming a regional pilgrimage site where people seek us out," says Roger Coleman. "There seems to be a holiness in this setting that draws people, and perhaps it even has a healing effect on those who enter. Its hard to explain.”

Quiet sanctuary

Behind the chapel's heavy oak doors the rush of traffic fades away. Inside its sanctuary, the clamor of modern life cannot compete with the chapel's quiet: a quiet carved from tons of rock, mortared by builders who survived the uncertainties of the Great Depression and the fear of an approaching world war. The chapel was finished in 1942, for $14,200, after 13 years of fund raising by area Lutherans who wanted a church home for the deaf. Architects incorporated special accommodations for lip-reading and hand signing. Sightlines were paramount because eyes needed to see in order to “hear.” The pulpit was built high enough so every eye could see it clearly, even those in the back of the church.

The rows of windows spilling light into the sanctuary were positioned to eliminate glare. Bright sunlight would block the view of twisting, talking, signing fingers. Daylight is diffused into a pinkish hue as it passes through stained -glass windows of amber and rose. Oak parquet flooring is laid in geometric squares, its patterns as lively as a Midwestern quilt.

Thoughts are encouraged to soar as high as the open loft beams of stained pine overhead. The 24 inch end walls and 18inch side walls are cool. Smooth. They blot the humidity of Kansas City summers and the icy gales of its winters. Built with imported Wisconsin limestone, the rocks are a putty gray, not the ghost white of native Missouri limestone. Hard Wisconsin limestone was chosen because it weathers the ages, without change in color or structure. Although this Gothic church in miniature was built for the deaf, its replicated dimensions created an unforeseen benefit for the hearing community: acoustics are perfect. There are no echoes. No dead spots. This is a venue that projects and adds round fullness to each spoken word. The chapel's builders seemed to

know that seeking answers to life was an ageless theme. There are no. ornamental decorations, save for two modest stained glass windows telling stories of Christ. There are no looming statues or grandiose architecture. Lines are clean. Simple. The builders' goal was to create a sacred space for others, a gift for future generations. A place that would transcend time. Or perhaps, slow it down for its visitors.

"There's a quote the Lutheran church gave when the builders laid the cornerstone here back in 1941,” says Coleman: "When we build let us think that we build forever.... Let us think as we lay stone on stone, that a time is to come when (others) will look upon our labor and say, 'See, this is what they did for us.’” "You can feel that same spirit inside the church, even now. They did a wonderful job."

In times of celebration and crisis

Today, the chapel does not have a weekly congregation, nor does it want one. There are no rules the chapel imposes on those who enter. Its mission is to be open to all. There are candles for prayers. And kneeling benches. Crosses. A menorah. Portraits of yogis and other meditation leaders, Holy water. These religious symbols can be brought out, covered up or put away, depending on the need of the service.

"I think the concept of the public chapel is a reflection of where we're moving as a community globally” says Liz Coleman, who sometimes presides over a worship service and sometimes prepares the pulpit for a visiting rabbi or priest. She resigned from her duties as campus chaplain, at the University of Missouri Kansas City to be director and senior chaplain at Pilgrim.

"This chapel reflects people's lives," she says. "Everyone knows Jewish people and Muslim people and Buddhists and Catholics and Christians. This is an intra-denominational space, There are recreational centers where people come together and share the space. Why not a church too? "And for people seeking a church wedding, well, instead of taking their vows into a garden or courthouse because they're not members of a regular church or because they are of different beliefs, they can come here and feel legitimized." She remembers well her own traditional background in the Episcopalian church, especially when she began to question some of its doctrines. She felt alone in her views and judged by others. But her spirituality remained intact, even if her worship rituals did not. "The world is seriously smaller

than it used to be," she says. "People don't live in the same little town forever ... Even the family isn’t defined the same way. You have all these variables: two men, two women, stepparents, divorced parents. Rather than abandon the faith community, this is a place where if you're an individual or family you're welcomed. "This thing of defining worship in a certain way is kind of obsolete because we have children growing up now who never stepped foot in a church before," she continues. "But having some sort of faith system can get people through the tough times. It's important to have a sense of something greater than ourselves."

Across the country, only a few other cities have anything similar to Pilgrim Chapel. There's a little church in Dallas' Thanksgiving Square, and another site in Washington, D.C., says Coleman. In 1999, the chapel was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Since its reopening, there have been numerous weddings, baptisms and funerals performed here. Three religious organizations also meet regularly in the church: a weekly two hour structured meditation, a weekly meditation based worship service and a monthly Jewish Sabbath service. Even a few musical organizations have field concerts there, taking advantage of the chapel's excellent acoustics.

"The goal is to make this chapel not clergy based but community centered," says Coleman. "In a sense we're developing a congregation based on need. For example, there are many Jewish people in this area of the city that have no local synagogue. Most synagogues and congregations have moved South and St. This chapel can connect people who live in the urban core.

"...We can be there for people in a crisis time or in a time of celebration. Faith resides within people, not a location."

Patricia Glenn, who is Jewish and is the secretary on Pilgrim’s board of directors, cherishes the chapel and what it represents. "There are no boundaries at Pilgrim Chapel," says Glenn. "In 10 years, it's going to become a real centerpiece in Kansas City. The chapel teaches us that if we don't accept each other's differences, whether it’s sexual or skin color or religious diversity, we’ll never be able to eradicate bigotry. At the chapel, all that stuff is left outside.”

Welcoming everyone

Perhaps one of the best examples of the need for Pilgrim Chapel was on a recent Sunday afternoon. Dorothy and Francis Rice, 68 and 71 respectively, renewed their wedding vows exactly 50 years to the day of their marriage. No other church would perform this ceremony. The Rices, from Union City, Okla., don’t belong to a church. So they drove here. The Rice family discovered the chapel a few years ago and has been celebrating weddings, baptisms and even a funeral memorial at the chapel ever since. There are four different religions in our family, from Episcopalian to Muslim,” explains their daughter, Charlotte Mueller, of Kansas City. One of her daughters is Muslim.

“No church wanted to marry my daughters, but the Coleman’s performed a double ceremony the day after thanksgiving, on short notice. And it was every bit as beautiful as any other place. The Coleman’s are great people too.”

On this day Charlotte Dennett, 68, the Sister of Dorothy Rice, visits from Portland, Ore., to witness the couple’s celebration. With tear in her eyes she sums up Pilgrim Chapel this way: “God’s here, and you should take whatever blessings He gives you, grading them with both hands. Look around. Our family is here, all together. And it’s obvious we all love each other despite our differences. “This little Church allows us to do that,” she says, with a sigh. “ It’s wonderful.”

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For additional information, call Laurie at 816.753.6719 or send e-mail to Dr. Roger Coleman @ rcoleman@clergyservices.com