PAV E D PA R A D I S E by THE REV. DR. JAMES L. PAHL, JR.
During July, St. Michael’s received a fresh coat of “zebra stripes” — the white lines marking spaces for our parking lot. It was mesmerizing to behold the workers' precision and speed in painting the bright, clean lines that would soon welcome our St. Michael’s family back from summer adventures. In the midst of all this, the Rev. Jamie Pahl was preparing to embark on a journey of his own — a calling to All Saints Episcopal Church, Chevy Chase, Maryland — and it got him reflecting on, of all things, parking lots.
I
am a firm believer that the Church is you and me, “the people.” In a matter of moments, our building and property could blow down in a storm or be destroyed by fire. But, you know what? St. Michael’s would still be St. Michael’s. It would still be the church we love, because we would still gather in this spot as a faith-driven family, honoring and supporting each other, and worshiping the Almighty, life-giving
12
God. There is something to the power of what we see: the people, the physical property, the spaces where we gather — spaces which contain so many cherished memories. And, let us not forget the hallowed ground upon which we walk, where our loved ones are buried. It is all holy ground. St. Michael's — its buildings and grounds — is set apart for the holy life and work always before us. And, it is blessed.
lot. It is where we enter every week, coming back in from the mission field, as we seek — at the very least — to have our batteries charged for the sake of the Gospel. Every time we make the journey here, there is a place for us.
One of the things that strikes me from personal experience, and for many of us going back decades, is the power of presence, especially when considering the lesser parts of the church property, which are also set apart as holy ground. And, as unusual as this thought may sound, I am specifically thinking about the parking lot — the way in and out of our spiritual home!
I recently viewed photos and an 8mm home movie of my younger brother’s baptism here in 1974. I was almost 3 years old as we gathered around the font with the Rev. Jim Beckwith for the ceremony. And, as is still done today, we moved out in front of the nave on the circle driveway for fellowship and conversation. Eager to release our squirming energy, my cousin Anna and I can be seen in the film racing around the circle until I fall and scrape my knee. The tears come and my Grandmother Pahl is the one to comfort me.
It may seem a little whimsical to write about asphalt, but, think about the symbolic nature of our parking
Seeing my young self and family so at home at St. Michael’s got me thinking about all the times I have
