Lonely Coffee Behind Red Doors

This morning I attended St. Matthew’s Episcopal Cathedral, a grand sandstone building that towers over downtown Laramie, Wy.

Everyone I talked to referred to it as the “church with the red doors,” as the doors were famously painted crimson in 2005. Red doors are common in Episcopal churches, and sometimes also seen in other denominations.

In the early days of the Christian Church, red doors told of holy ground behind them, protecting people from both physical and spiritual harm. Soldiers were unable to pursue anyone beyond these red doors, as no violence could happen behind them. Some say red also signifies the blood of Christ that has been shed so that all who come to God’s care may be saved.

The service inside the church was very nice, and I really appreciated the Very Rev. Marilyn Engstrom’s manner of engaging the congregation. It must be working, as in such a small city, the church is able to sustain three services every Sunday.

The service started out with a discussion of Matthew 21:23-32, in which Jesus is approached by religious leaders who question where he got his authority to minister in their region. Jesus said he’d explain if the leaders would say whether the baptism of John was of divine or human origin. Afraid of humiliation if they said divine or attack if they said human, they said they didn’t know.

Thus, instead of talking of his authority, Jesus gave a parable of a father and two sons. The father asked his sons to go work in the fields. The first said yes, but didn’t go. The second said no, but went. Which did the father’s work? The leaders said the second, thus condemning themselves.

When Engstrom talked about this, she used a conversational tone. For instance, she described the second son’s actions as being “as soon as Dad turns his back, he goes behind the barn, probably has a cigarette, who knows?”

Then she changed the subject a few times, so that her sermon didn’t really have a theme that I could discern. First, she engaged the congregation, asking what gifts God provided in their lives.

One said He gave her vegetables to eat. Another spoke of the strength He gave her to carry on. One woman was almost tearful, saying “He allows me to love when I don’t want to.”

Finally, Engstrom ended her sermon praising the congregation for being so open and welcoming. Apparently, a leader of the Episcopal Church had visited a little while before, and was incredibly impressed with how friendly and caring the congregation had been.

In retrospect, I find that a little funny. After the service, I went into the undercroft with some of the congregation for coffee and cookies. No one talked to me. I was just standing around, while everyone was locked in conversations I didn’t want to interrupt. I guess I might be used to very outgoing missionary traditions from my trip, but it felt strange, and I left after 15 minutes.

But here’s the inside of the church, which had amazing, geometric architecture: