Some time ago, I was driving
through a nearby village called Great Valley, when, right in someone’s front
garden, I spied a tiny white chapel. In
the middle of an immaculate lawn, topped by a cross, flanked by flowers and two
white benches, it looked built for Hansel and Gretel. A sign said, “The Little
White Church”, with, underneath, the words, “Welcomes You.” Did it actually mean that? Could anyone just walk in? Being British, I checked first. There it was
on the web, “The Little White Church in the Dell”, claiming to be the smallest
roadside church in America and indeed open to anyone passing by.
And apparently it’s
not the only church vying for the “smallest” title. Extraordinary, when you’d think Americans
would like everything big, big, big, that they’re so fascinated by tiny
churches. I had no idea before I came here that Find-the-Smallest-Church-in
America is a pastime among travellers.
There’s even another contender in our New York state, on an island in a
lake. It accommodates just two people but it probably doesn’t count as a
roadside church, since you can only get to it by boat. Then there was the one I drove past on
highway 17 down in Georgia. “The Smallest Church in America”, it said, “Where folks rub elbows with God”. It had its own miniature bell-tower and had
been founded in 1949 by Agnes Harper, a local grocer, who took out the deed in
the name of Jesus Christ. It was
non-denominational but people had left all sorts of Catholic mementoes –
rosaries, miraculous medals, St Anthony candles. That church was 10 feet by 15 – space for
thirteen people if they held their breaths, according to the publicity.
But I’m afraid
western New York has Georgia beat. Our Great Valley church is five feet by
eight, big enough for four worshippers, max.
The owner, Gail
Archer, showed me the exquisite little interior. There were gilded cherubs,
brocade cushions for kneeling by the rail in front of a crucifix flanked by
purple velvet curtains, a frieze of angels around the walls, plaques saying
“Count Your Blessings” and “Be Still and Know that I am God” , an old Bible
open, with a pair of round spectacles placed on it and a clever device to start
bell chimes ringing when the door opened.
Music played softly – Gail didn't have it on all the time but tried to
watch for people approaching. And it was air-conditioned too. Outside, the Ten
Commandments greeted visitors and wind chimes tinkled in the breeze.
Gail got the idea
when she was cycling near Niagara Falls and came upon a similar tiny church.
“Why, I’d like to have one!” she decided.
Hers was built a couple of years ago, with fifty people at the first
service, sitting on the grass outside. Gail told me it also hosted weddings. The neighbours were sceptical at
first. “Do you really want people traipsing all over your yard?” but Gail went
ahead anyway. She said she didn't want donations, for her, the satisfaction was providing a place of “rest and reflection”.
The other day, though, I noticed, the "Welcomes You" sign had gone. I hope The Little White Church is still open.
The other day, though, I noticed, the "Welcomes You" sign had gone. I hope The Little White Church is still open.
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