{Day three of Lent 2024, and room 2 of my 40 day series.}

Joan and I have only lived in one manse through my years in ministry. For most of my vocation, we lived in homes we purchased. But on moving to a rural Vermont church, we lived in an 1840s-era manse or, as some might call it, a parsonage. It was lovely, a postcard setting really, and within sight of the church I served for almost a decade. The photo here is from the December page of a “Vermont Life” magazine calendar. Under the snow cover is my Accura Integra with the vanity plate that reads “Kingdom,” for Vermont’s “Northeast Kingdom” territory.

While in that house, Joan transformed room after room, painting and papering, adding personal touches to make it “ours.” Now sometimes, living in a church-owned house can be problematic. The incoming pastor discovers furniture that must stay in place (so generously donated from a church member of old who didn’t want it anymore), or finds restrictions on any change or renovation or personal living choices, thus making the house less of a “home.” That was not the case in our Vermont manse.

One thing that we recall with fondness all these years later is how the largest room in that house became a place of welcome for church fellowship and “business.” You see, during winter months when the Vermont temperatures could dip into the -20s (or worse), we saw no need to turn up the church thermostat just for a weeknight meeting. So we invited the Session (the local Presbyterian church’s governing board) to meet at the manse. Other committees came into that space as well. Joan also initiated a “soup group” for a monthly lunchtime gathering in that room. Sometimes a dining room, other times my study, but always a room open to church members and friends.

The ‘open house’ tradition continued in Rev. Deb McKinley’s tenure

Now, let’s be clear: they didn’t just feel free to barge in unannounced. Except Wesley Megaw. He was a retired Presbyterian pastor who had settled in the area, a long-time friend of the church, and sometime substitute preacher. One day while Joan was in the kitchen and I at my desk, a booming voice called from inside the front door, “Hello, Kellams!” I suppose Wes thought that since it was the church’s house, the door was open anytime and he could just enter at will. (At that time, few Vermonters in rural areas locked their doors. Some didn’t know where their keys had gone, such was the perceived safety of the culture then.) We learned from Wes’ habit that being fully clothed on the first floor of the manse was a good idea.

The walls of that large room witnessed the prayers, singing, meals, and discussions and decision making of an active church that felt at home in the pastor’s space. That’s what welcome does: it makes for a home. Not at all threatened by the regular presence of the “landlords” (the church folk), we remember those days warmly. For they had first welcomed us.

How welcoming is your space? Our community? Our country?

[A footnote: That room in the manse of the East Craftsbury Presbyterian Church was replicated on the set of the Alfred HItchcock film “The Trouble with Harry.” It became Shirley MacLaine’s living room. The exterior of the manse was used “on location” with actor John Forsythe walking up the tree-lined front walk to sit with MacLaine on the porch. (The porch was not original to the manse, but was added by Hitchcock for the movie and then dismantled and moved to the back of the house where Joan and I would enjoy our summer meals some forty years later!)]