The first, most striking thing about Riverside church is its sheer size. Her tall, central spire towers over the Hudson river and the Harlem and Morningside Heights neighborhoods. The church was built by John D. Rockefeller and his considerable investment in the building and its materials is obvious.
However, there are a few things that immediately struck me as I explored this church and its history. First, the church is always full. Monday through Sunday, day or night, the granite and marble hallways ring with neighborhood kids. (Not plaid-skirted Columbia kids, mind you, Harlem kids) After school programs, kids in the gym, adult education, job skills classes...the church is always humming with activity. Second, the church is constantly engaged with the local community and the whole of New York. There are lectures, special engagements, protests, and community organizations that meet at the church and discuss concrete community needs and concerns. The discussions might focus on workers rights, racial and ethnic discrimination, poverty, ethics etc. etc. For the poor in this community, the Riverside church provides a voice for the voiceless and provides a venue to explore issues from a Faith centered perspective.Riverside church's name is synonymous with progressive Christianity around these parts. Which brings me to my third surprising fact. When Kelly and I visited the church for a service recently, we were shocked, or should I say un-shocked, by the orthodox nature of the worship and service. We had heard stories of Riverside Easter services that ended with, "Well...we all know Christ didn't actually rise from the dead" and other sordid tales of heresy so thick they would make any good Church of Christ kid's biblical highlighter melt. However, it just wasn't there. Instead, we found a very diverse church, committed to service and to the community.
My favorite part of this particular church (any traditional church actually...) is the small chapel tucked away from the giant nave in the picture above. Called the Christ's chapel, it is rarely inhabited and is a beautiful example of meaningful church architecture. The windows tell various stories from the life of Jesus and strewn throughout are symbols that are traditionally connected to various saints. It has a kind of holy quietness in its simplicity that distinguishes it from other chapels I've visited. Within this space, all of life seems to lower to a whisper. I've personally seen big entourages of junior high kids who, five minutes before, were rapping and bouncing basketballs in the hallway slowed to a silent halt when they enter the room.
As a Religion student at Pepperdine I had the opportunity to take Dr. Love's task of ministry class. One class project has been the subject of more conversation in our marriage than perhaps any other experience during our college years. The project was to go to another church, of any fellowship or denomination, and to assess what was important to that faith community by analyzing their architecture. As I look back on my lifetime in the Churches of Christ, our churches seem to center on classrooms, auditoriums, fellowship halls, youth rooms and work rooms. Yet, I have never seen a space solely for beauty and quiet contemplation in our fellowship like Christ's chapel. That, I think, is a shame. So, until we do, I'll borrow this one and silently thank Mr. Rockefeller each time I slip through those heavy doors.
