Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

It’s time to add the slide to our pew-aerobics repertoire.

We all know the rule of real estate: location, location, location.

Of course, this is true in the pew as well. Prime spots tend to be about a halfway back, close enough to be noticed but not so close that the priest can tell if you’re playing Words with Friends during the sermon.

I noticed yesterday another spot that is held dear by many parishioners: the aisle seats. As I walked into the nave, I saw that the pews looked like the hairline of a middle-aged man – full on the sides and empty down the middle. 

Our nave isn’t quite big enough for Sunday attendance, especially on a bishop’s visit, so people were hunting for seats. When they found a hole in the middle, they asked the aisle-sitters if they could squeeze by. 

I don’t use the verb squeeze lightly here. We all know what it’s like to make your way across the laps and legs of people, your, um, hind-end, in their faces, purses jostling, braiding your legs with theirs to cross into the available middle seats. It’s not pleasant. 

And it’s one thing to have to navigate this at the ballpark or theater, where you’ve paid to have assigned seats. 

But at church, it’s inhospitable. The last thing nervous visitors need is to have to crawl across strangers’ laps to get to a seat. Late-comers don’t want the commotion to point out that they’re late. 

Unless you’re reading the lessons, singing a solo, potty-training 3-year-olds, or watching your pager as an ER doctor, it’s time to slide to the middle. 

Don’t get me wrong – I’m a big fan of the aisle seat. It helps me establish some of my personal space. And I can make a quick run for it, if I need to. 

But I realized as I watched several people climb over the aisle-sitters that it’s time to make the slide part of our routine. We should offer to give up a little for the comfort of others.

If we’re not willing to move to the middle, who are we leaving out on the edges?