Theology Today - Vol 37, No. 3 - October 1980 - CRITICSCORNER

367 - Leaky Steeple

THE PROPERTY COMMITTEE has known it for a long time, but now you will know the shocking truth. We have a leaky steeple.

One hardly can accuse the Committee of a Watergate coverup, although they did know about the soggy situation for some time without telling anyone outside the inner circle, or anyone inside the outer circle. Things like that can dampen the members' ardor for their leaders.

You can appreciate the Committee's problem, though. A leaky steeple is a real sticky wicket. On the one hand, if you tell people, you might cause them to be looking nervously up to the ceiling during the sermon. Some people already claim too much that goes on is over their heads. On the other hand, if a drop comes down on someone's bowed head, you don't want that person thinking we've got pigeons. So while the Committee wavers back and forth over whether or not to tell, the news has leaked out.

It's not a pleasant thing to discover about yourself. A leaky steeple is like dandruff. Your best friends won't tell you, but they see the tell-tale signs and whisper things among themselves about "gaps in the belfry," and "mold in the moldings," and politely turn down invitations to come over for the choir concert. Of course, they aren't without beams in their own eyes. The perfect church is only in the mind of religious magazine advertisers. Every for-real church has creaking floor boards, or hissing radiators, or clunking organ pedals, or slipping slate, or something. And who can say whether a leaky steeple is worse than a coughing choir, or, heaven forbid, a pounding preacher? All things are relative.

A leaky steeple may not be the full extent of our problem. One thing leads to another, and that's particularly true of the beams in the ceiling. The rain goes in here, and the water goes round and round, and it comes out there. And in the process it puts a stain up here, a stain up there, here a stain, there a stain, everywhere a water stain. Before you know it, your leaky steeple has given you a good case of pasty plaster, and that can lead to that dreaded condition, crumbles of the ceiling. Then you're in real trouble.

What can you do to plug the gaps and blot out the trouble? You call the builder, and after a thorough inspection, a lot of grunts and mumbles, he looks at you and in an accusing voice says, "You people

Paul A. Corcoran is the minister of the Gwynedd Square United Presbyterian Church, Lansdale, Pa. He is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh and of Princeton Theological Seminary. An Army veteran and a former instructor in economics at Dickinson College, Paul Corcoran writes for ministers who love the church but are not blind to its faults and who can laugh at themselves. His pieces have appeared in several journals, such as Monday Morning, Pulpit Digest, and, once before, in THEOLOGY TODAY (Jan. 1974).

368 - Leaky Steeple

have a leaky steeple." Absorbing this piece of news, you ask him what you ought to do.

"Well, I'm just a builder," he says. "What you need is an architect. If you'd like, I'll see if I can get you an appointment for some time next month."

Next month finally rolls around after the rainiest weeks on record, and the wizard arrives with a pocketful of ballpoints and a geometric calculator in his hand. "I can see your problem right away," he announces, showing how quickly a specialist can get to the bottom of things. "You've got a leaky steeple."

To the credit of our Property Committee, I must report that they've come up with their own solution. They're simply going to change the sign out front. It will say, "St. Noah's Presbyterian Church-Baptism every Sunday."

Ah, that Property Committee ... they're not a bunch of drips.