True story: in the first congregation I served, there was a prominent family which always sat in the same pew, which happened to be the back pew on the side opposite the pulpit–as far away from the preacher as possible. It is a fact that the floor of the sanctuary sloped down to the corner where they sat, as if the cumulative weight of (at the time) four generations of this family had compromised the strength of the floor joists, back in the corner where they sat. Every once in a while, a visitor would arrive earlier than the family and would sit in the family’s pew, and I would watch as the members of the family arrived. Just by looking at them I could tell they were torn between wanting to welcome visitors (which genuinely they did), and being absolutely distressed at the prospect of having either to share their pew or move to a different place in the sanctuary.
Another true story: about two weeks after moving into our home in Oakland, we had our first guests up from San Jose to join us for dinner. Having negotiated the steep streets of the Oakland Hills, our friends parked their minivan across from our house. Drinks were poured, hors d’oeuvres were laid out, and we settled into the good work of having wonderful evening together. Just as we were about to gather at the table, our doorbell rang. It was our neighbor from across the street in forming us, with an aggrieved look on his face, that our company had parked in his space. It was awkward. Being new to the neighborhood, I didn’t feel empowered to tell him about how, on public streets, there is not assigned parking. Instead, I had to ask my friends to move their minivan. The experience made me feel profoundly unwelcome in the neighborhood, and even though the same neighbor–both before and after the incident–has been kind and cheerful with me, I still feel a little nervous when my friends and family park their cars on the street in front of my house.
Now, I happen to know that a lot of folk at MPC tend to sit in the same place week after week. This can be a good thing–it helps folks get to know one another, but for the sake of our floor, it might be good to try out different parts of the sanctuary from time to time, especially if a new-comer (or even a more adventurous member or friend of the family) beats you to your accustomed pew. A sure way to make a visitor feel unwelcome is to ask him or her to move to a different place, and besides, there is much to be said for sitting in a new spot. It can bring a new perspective on the experience of church and, in that way, serve as a metaphor for the adventures and wonders that can be a part of life if we will but sit in a new pew or park our car on a new stretch of curb.
Ben