Art

Six Days Empty: the Waste of Church Real Estate

As we stroll around the charming streets of Farmington and its neighboring towns in St. Francois County, we often marvel at the timeless beauty of our local churches. Their spires pierce the sky, their stained-glass windows shimmer in the sunlight, and their stone facades bear the marks of years, decades, even centuries. But as we admire the aesthetic qualities of these spiritual hubs, it’s worth examining their functional aspects, specifically their efficiency and utilization.

The evolution of church architecture has seen a multitude of styles and designs, from the simplistic early churches to the grand Gothic cathedrals, and the more contemporary, minimalist structures of the modern era. Yet, regardless of the design, one commonality prevails across most churches – they sit largely unused six days a week.

While Sunday services, Wednesday evening activities, and occasional meetings or events occupy these spaces for a few hours each week, a vast majority of the time, these sizable structures remain vacant. This underutilization can represent a significant financial inefficiency. The costs of maintenance, utilities, and insurance on such large buildings are nontrivial. Yet, for the most part, these resources are spent on spaces that are unoccupied nearly 86% of the time.

The question of what to do with these buildings during their “off hours” is complex. Some may argue that churches, by their very nature, are meant to serve as sanctuaries, places of quiet contemplation and spiritual solace, and as such, their utility shouldn’t be measured by occupancy rates or financial considerations.

However, as we consider the teachings of Christianity, a religion that places great emphasis on helping the “least of these” (Matthew 25:40), perhaps there’s a case to be made for using these spaces in ways that benefit the community, particularly its most vulnerable members.

Regrettably, many churches embark on expensive projects designed to enhance the comfort of their wealthiest members, while neglecting the needs of those who might benefit most from the church’s support. Stained-glass windows are repaired, organ lofts are refurbished, and ornate altars are constructed, often with little thought to how these resources could be utilized for outreach programs or direct aid.

For example, an unused church hall could become a daytime shelter for the homeless or a night-time refuge for those who have no place to go when the temperature drops. It could be used as a food pantry, a community education center, or a hub for social services. The possibilities are endless if the focus shifts towards community engagement and service.

In the final analysis, the challenge lies in striking a balance between preserving the sanctity and traditional purpose of our local churches while leveraging their potential for broader community service. Doing so would not only ensure a more efficient use of these structures but would also align more closely with the core tenets of Christianity, embodying a tangible love for the “least of these.”

In essence, our churches can remain as much an architectural marvel as a beacon of hope and service, a physical testament to faith that works beyond Sunday sermons, embracing the community’s needs six days a week, and truly reflecting the teachings of the Gospel.