Why Don't People Take Their Coats Off In Church?

Last winter I noticed something when I went to church.

I noticed it because I became acutely aware of people looking at me.

It happened when I arrived and entered my pew.  I'd walk in to my favorite spot on the pew (don't we all have that?!)  and would take off  my gloves and hat, my backpack or bag, then unwrap my scarf and fold it, then, finally, my coat, being careful to fold it just right so that it sat on the pew next to me.

It was my usual pattern. Until one day, as I was going through the motions, I noticed that everyone around me was watching me.  I thought maybe I was being loud.  But I knew I was very careful to not intrude upon the stillness of the space.  In fact, when I'd purchased a new winter coat that year, I'd intentionally avoided one with a shell that was loud and made lots of 'rustly' noise.

But as I looked around at my fellow parishoners, I suddenly became very self-conscious to the fact that I was one of but a few people who had taken their coat off.  In fact, at communion time, I observed that less than 20% of us had taken our coats off even when coming up for communion.

Why?

I suppose there are some common sense reasons:

• theft
• takes up space in the pew
• temperature of the church

Yet the building was fairly warm and nothing a sweater couldn't handle.  And in all my years at the Parish I'd never heard of a coat being stolen.  Yes, my coat did take up another seat in the pew (had their been someone who wanted to sit next to me), but you can always sit on your coat, so...?

Keeping your coat on in Church makes you seem like you're on your way somewhere else.  I can't imagine keeping my coat on in church, and yet, I think that's where my Protestant roots influence me to this day.  In the Methodist Church, which I attended during my elementary school years, there were coat racks in the church hall, where you left your coat during services.  It's also where you returned after services, to join other congregants for coffee and fellowship.  Catholics don't seem to have a big tradition of that - certainly not in my Parish.

For me, church is home.  When I go, I want to sit down with God, my fellow parishioners, and spend an hour in song and prayer and reflection and communion.  I want to stay and be comfortable.  I want to be present mind, body and spirit.  Keeping my coat on would feel like I had one foot out the door and on the way to the next activity.

So I'll keep taking my coat off in church.  And perhaps those who chose not to will wonder why.

Going to a Bread Box Church

They say you can't judge a book by its' cover...but I did.  With my parish church, nonetheless.

I live a block away from my church.  I've lived a block away from the church for over sixteen years. But I waited nearly seven year before I went in.  Why?

Because it was a bread box church.

Huh?

I know...but look at it.

No steeple.

What church has no steeple?

What happened to that little ditty we used to say when I was a kid?

         "Here's the church,
          Here's the steeple.
          Open the door,
          Here are the people!"

I know.  Pathetic.  Pathetic that I wouldn't go into a church, my parish church, because it is just a big, rectangular building sans steeple.  It reminded me of a giant bread box. I couldn't get past the wrapping for the longest time.  I assumed it would be as boring and 'boxy' on the inside as it was on the outside.

It reminds me of last Christmas and my gift to my brother, Al.  He lives in the Midwest, so after carefully and lovingly finding his presents, I had to find a box in which to ship them.  In the name of "Reclaim-Restore-Recycle" I found the perfect box - reusing a box from a purchase I'd made a few months earlier.

On Christmas night I called Al to see if he liked his presents.  He and his family were just finishing dinner and he was thrilled that I'd called at the right moment: "Your timing is perfect!" he said.  "Your niece is just getting ready to do the dishes!  She's been waiting for this moment all day!"

Huh?  I assumed it was my brother's typical cynical humor.  Doing the dishes at Christmas dinner sounded torturous - especially for a teenager!

"She can't wait to open the gift you sent!" Al explained (facetiously).

"Really?  She didn't open her gifts this morning?"  I was really confused.

"You remember what you sent, right?" Al sounded a bit more tentative now.

"Uh...no...I'm not sure what we're talking about, Al"  I racked my brain, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

"The dish rack and drain,"  Al announced which great enthusiasm!

Oh, my.  Al was talking about the reclaimed< > recycled box I'd sent with his presents in!  He'd never opened the box with the gifts I'd so carefully picked out and sent him!  He thought I'd forgotten him!

He was wonderfully surprised and excited (and my niece was relieved!).

That's what my 'bread box church experience was like.

Once I got beyond the packaging and opened the doors of the Church - it was like an unexpected gift at Christmas!

I love my bread box church.  It's full of wonderful gifts that I cherish in my life.  And it's taught me to look beyond the outside.  To have courage to open the doors and go inside - whether we're talking about new places, new people, new experiences.  You might just be surprised! (a little relieved!)