by Katherine Burns Martinez

I once stood in the rain, waiting to tour Westminster Abbey. Drowning in a sea of umbrellas in front of England’s Church of Royals, I longed to be inside the People’s Church—St. Paul’s Cathedral. I thought, “I’d rather be in the great dome, exploring the Whispering Gallery…or studying Holman Hunt’s Light of the World, describing to my daughters how the Light calls us out of the gray and into the World.” Yet there we were, wasting a precious hour hoping for a glimpse of the graves of dead kings.

Just as I was losing heart, I noticed activity at the furthermost corner of the Abbey—a full London-block away. People were coming in and out of another entrance, and they looked like ordinary folks. I was curious. Why were they entering and leaving the church by this other door? While my family held our place in the long wet line, I broke away to see about the door.

The alternative entrance was called The Pilgrims’ Door. I knew this by the placard that read, “If you’ve come to worship, please enter by this Pilgrims’ Door.” I rushed back to the long wet line and told my family the good news. “It’s another entrance,” I said. “It’s free—and open to anyone who’s come to worship.”

Whom is Worship For?

Such was the crowd outside the Abbey that morning. Most had come to marvel at the famous graves and grand space, while some had come as worshiping pilgrims.

Understandably, this kind of dichotomy illustrates a tough reality faced by pastors and parishioners alike. It’s difficult to plan worship for one group and harder still to plan a service for two or more groups. It’s difficult for pilgrims to worship next to onlookers, and harder still for the onlookers to understand the actions of Christian worship. So we, as leaders and worshipers, dutifully ask the question, “Who is worship for?”

In his article “Worship, Aesthetics, and Social Justice,” Professor Michael Van Horn explains how our utilitarian mindset can inhibit the fullness of Christian worship. We ask, “What is worship for?” because we want to worship on-purpose. Beginning with an end in mind, we hope to accomplish something through worship.

So too, we seek to identify whom the worship gathering “is for.” The modern mind is uneasy in the presence of ambiguity and is curiously satisfied once it discovers an easy answer to a difficult question. Most American pastors and church leaders feel obliged to ask and answer the question, “Whom is worship for?” In fairness to us I suggest that, in addition to utility and modernity, we’re motivated by our love for God and others. We want to do a good job of offering the Gospel and leading people in response.

The Jesus Gathering

I used to answer boldly, “Worship is the story of God for the people of God.” Then I joined a community half comprised of first generation Christ followers. Most of these people came to church as “watchers,” and their first act of worship was a faith-response to the Good News. How did God prompt this response? Well, among other things, God revealed God’s self to these watchers in the sights and sounds of worship and the skillful telling of a story that simply amazed them. Every worshiper is a once-watcher who has glimpsed God and responded in faith.

Am I suggesting that the purpose of gathered worship is evangelism? No. Jesus gathered people, not for one reason, but for many. People came to hear him teach; others came seeking help; some came to show him love; and others came as guests of the faithful. He gathered these on hillsides, roadsides, at the seaside and in temple courts. He didn’t divide them into groups according to their capacity to respond or their knowledge of God. Jesus knew that his message, affirming both our dignity and depravity, was for all persons in any setting.

To create a single-purpose sanctuary is to eliminate the possibility that public worship might be a Jesus Gathering; and to demand, as a worshiper, that the gathering be tailored to fit my needs, is to want for something that necessarily excludes others; for everyone is not like me.

Sharing sacred space

When we learned of the other entrance to Westminster Abbey, we broke free from the crowd and hurriedly made our way to the Pilgrims’ Door. Once inside, we discovered that most of the Abbey was accessible from this entrance. Though we were unable to pass the tomb of Mary Queen of Scots, we were able to take in much of the art and architecture, and most important, we prayed and presented our offering.

The high point of our visit occurred at noon. Every hour in Westminster Abbey, the voice of the parish pastor breaks through the noisy crowd, calling tourist and pilgrim alike—to prayer. A sudden hush came over this place of worship house of kings, and every head and heart made silence. The Dean of the Chapel prayed with thanksgiving—and for the Spirit’s increase among all in attendance and to the ends of the earth. I sensed mass participation—the sort of response I’ve noticed in other Jesus Gatherings that draw a crowd.

We were sharing sacred space with people who had come, not to worship, but to watch. At first glance this church looked like a tourist attraction, but we had discovered another entrance, a gracefully placed door into worship. We’d also been surprised by the willing response of a crowd of tourists.

Watch the Door

I wondered: “Shouldn’t every house of worship have a pilgrims’ door? If devoted worshipers can find the door, will they be more tolerant of the crowd and enthusiastic about an order of worship that allows visitors a taste of God’s goodness? Isn’t this what Jesus did on hillsides, roadsides, at the seaside and in the temple courts?”

Since then I’ve found many pilgrims’ doors. You should watch for them. Sometimes the pilgrims’ door opens during your favorite hymn; but be watchful, for it might not open until the last chorus of a long song you don’t like. It could be hidden behind the dour expression of a faithful usher. More than once, I’ve snuck through the door during the children’s sermon. I know someone who always enters through a psalm, and another who comes in by the Gospel lesson. Actually, you can tell a lot about a person by the entrance they prefer.

Only one thing thrills me more than worshiping with a room full of devoted Christians, and that’s the thrill of worshiping with devoted Christians and stunned tourists. When our worship sanctuaries exist only for worshiping pilgrims, we miss the thrill of being present as, week after week, God hushes the crowd and works among the unsuspecting. And if our crowded sanctuaries don’t offer a pilgrims’ door, the faithful may never find a place to leave their offering.