Post by robdog on Sept 14, 2006 17:29:58 GMT -5
Strip District building morphs from nightclub to church each weekend
Prayer and parties
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
By Diana Nelson Jones, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Between Saturday night and Sunday evening, the former St. Elizabeth Church in the Strip District transforms like a theater set between acts -- from The Altar Bar nightclub to the Steel City Church. It's the mission of a 31-year-old pastor who offers a new take on what the Christian life, and nightlife, can be.
The Steel City Church held its first service Sunday for about 250 people. Earlier in the day, the pastor, Damian Williams, and his wife, Anne Williams, carried sofas and chairs from the wings and configured them around an empty dance floor for the 6 p.m. service. It was a cross between coffee house and talk show, with a rolling video presentation and food.
As offbeat as the setting is, the message is grounded in Christian orthodoxy, said Mr. Williams, who resists the title reverend.
"I think of myself as a 'pastor-preneur,' " he said.
A native of New Castle in Lawrence County and a graduate of Geneva College in Beaver Falls, he grew up working in his father's plastic factory and returned to Western Pennsylvania a year ago to plant this church.
"People have asked me why I chose a name from the past for a progressive church," he said, "but I like the values from those days. The name 'Steel City' felt right to me."
Of five churches he has planted nationwide, this is the first urban, multicultural setting and the least recognizable as a house of worship, its stained-glass windows dwarfed by a giant sound system. The church rents the space on Sunday and will open early for congregants to watch Steelers games.
"We want to create a new form to break down barriers that have kept people from connecting with God," he said. "We chose the Strip because every kind of person goes there and relates to it."
The setting -- with its disco lights and alcohol, neither of which is activated on Sundays -- belies the commitment of a year's worth of outreach to create "cells" of neighborhood apostles.
"The real church is what we do through the week," said Mr. Williams. He runs a cell group in Mount Washington, where he and his wife live with two children.
"We discuss ways to apply questions we raise. If the sermon's about loving one's neighbor as oneself, we might ask 'What does that look like?' 'How am I living that I can make that happen?' "
The church has six cells so far: two in Mount Washington and one each in the South Side, the North Side, East Pittsburgh and Homestead. The guiding principle of each is to practice the message in the neighborhood and nurture more cells to do the same.
Andy Holm leads the South Side cell of about 10 regulars.
"We're looking to have a person from our group lead a new group," he said. "It can be at people's homes, in a park, in a coffee shop, anywhere."
He spent the day after the church debut sitting in Market Square with people who smell bad, who ask for handouts, who sell drugs and sex -- people he said a traditional church would consider "the unwanted harvest." One of the street people he befriended showed up at the church service, he said.
Mr. Holm is studying to be a minister at Oklahoma Wesleyan University, "but I liked my summer here so much, I took the fall semester off."
Mr. Williams was an intern at Mr. Holm's church in North Dakota 10 years ago, which is also where he met his wife, Anne, who runs the multimedia part of the Steel City Church service.
It isn't the only nontraditional presentation of worship locally.
Four years ago, the Hot Metal Bridge Faith Community established in the third-floor cafeteria of the Goodwill Industries building in the South Side. The service, at 11 a.m. Sunday, presents the teachings of the gospel in the form of a play, which the two founding pastors write.
"It makes it more real-life for people, and it's set in current times," said Renee Stanton, a spokesman. Otherwise, "we have all the elements of a traditional church service."
She said the congregation has grown to about 300 regular attendees.
"I think [alternative services] can attract a lot of Gen-Xers," said Jason Sinagra, who runs the Steel City Church's North Side cell. "Our style is going to appeal most to those who are unchurched, people not familiar with liturgy or theology. They want to be part of it but don't know how."
A graduate of the Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, Mr. Sinagra said that, as a student, he and a friend shocked people coming out of nightclubs in the Strip by handing them bottled water.
"I felt there was a need for a place for people to worship in the Strip at night. Then through some networking I met Damian," who had exactly the same idea.
Alternative churches are as old as religious history, but Mr. Williams said the political right wing may have spurred a trend among seekers and skeptics who want a tolerant spiritual life and a return to broad-based community.
His message this Sunday will be "There is no 'me' without 'we'," he said, citing Paul's letter admonishing the Corinthians to each treat each other as wholly essential and citing the body as a metaphor for the church.
"Just as an arm can't walk down the street," said Mr. Williams, "we want to build a community in which none of us can do it on our own."
(Diana Nelson Jones can be reached at djones@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1626. )
===
Prayer and parties
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
By Diana Nelson Jones, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Between Saturday night and Sunday evening, the former St. Elizabeth Church in the Strip District transforms like a theater set between acts -- from The Altar Bar nightclub to the Steel City Church. It's the mission of a 31-year-old pastor who offers a new take on what the Christian life, and nightlife, can be.
The Steel City Church held its first service Sunday for about 250 people. Earlier in the day, the pastor, Damian Williams, and his wife, Anne Williams, carried sofas and chairs from the wings and configured them around an empty dance floor for the 6 p.m. service. It was a cross between coffee house and talk show, with a rolling video presentation and food.
As offbeat as the setting is, the message is grounded in Christian orthodoxy, said Mr. Williams, who resists the title reverend.
"I think of myself as a 'pastor-preneur,' " he said.
A native of New Castle in Lawrence County and a graduate of Geneva College in Beaver Falls, he grew up working in his father's plastic factory and returned to Western Pennsylvania a year ago to plant this church.
"People have asked me why I chose a name from the past for a progressive church," he said, "but I like the values from those days. The name 'Steel City' felt right to me."
Of five churches he has planted nationwide, this is the first urban, multicultural setting and the least recognizable as a house of worship, its stained-glass windows dwarfed by a giant sound system. The church rents the space on Sunday and will open early for congregants to watch Steelers games.
"We want to create a new form to break down barriers that have kept people from connecting with God," he said. "We chose the Strip because every kind of person goes there and relates to it."
The setting -- with its disco lights and alcohol, neither of which is activated on Sundays -- belies the commitment of a year's worth of outreach to create "cells" of neighborhood apostles.
"The real church is what we do through the week," said Mr. Williams. He runs a cell group in Mount Washington, where he and his wife live with two children.
"We discuss ways to apply questions we raise. If the sermon's about loving one's neighbor as oneself, we might ask 'What does that look like?' 'How am I living that I can make that happen?' "
The church has six cells so far: two in Mount Washington and one each in the South Side, the North Side, East Pittsburgh and Homestead. The guiding principle of each is to practice the message in the neighborhood and nurture more cells to do the same.
Andy Holm leads the South Side cell of about 10 regulars.
"We're looking to have a person from our group lead a new group," he said. "It can be at people's homes, in a park, in a coffee shop, anywhere."
He spent the day after the church debut sitting in Market Square with people who smell bad, who ask for handouts, who sell drugs and sex -- people he said a traditional church would consider "the unwanted harvest." One of the street people he befriended showed up at the church service, he said.
Mr. Holm is studying to be a minister at Oklahoma Wesleyan University, "but I liked my summer here so much, I took the fall semester off."
Mr. Williams was an intern at Mr. Holm's church in North Dakota 10 years ago, which is also where he met his wife, Anne, who runs the multimedia part of the Steel City Church service.
It isn't the only nontraditional presentation of worship locally.
Four years ago, the Hot Metal Bridge Faith Community established in the third-floor cafeteria of the Goodwill Industries building in the South Side. The service, at 11 a.m. Sunday, presents the teachings of the gospel in the form of a play, which the two founding pastors write.
"It makes it more real-life for people, and it's set in current times," said Renee Stanton, a spokesman. Otherwise, "we have all the elements of a traditional church service."
She said the congregation has grown to about 300 regular attendees.
"I think [alternative services] can attract a lot of Gen-Xers," said Jason Sinagra, who runs the Steel City Church's North Side cell. "Our style is going to appeal most to those who are unchurched, people not familiar with liturgy or theology. They want to be part of it but don't know how."
A graduate of the Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, Mr. Sinagra said that, as a student, he and a friend shocked people coming out of nightclubs in the Strip by handing them bottled water.
"I felt there was a need for a place for people to worship in the Strip at night. Then through some networking I met Damian," who had exactly the same idea.
Alternative churches are as old as religious history, but Mr. Williams said the political right wing may have spurred a trend among seekers and skeptics who want a tolerant spiritual life and a return to broad-based community.
His message this Sunday will be "There is no 'me' without 'we'," he said, citing Paul's letter admonishing the Corinthians to each treat each other as wholly essential and citing the body as a metaphor for the church.
"Just as an arm can't walk down the street," said Mr. Williams, "we want to build a community in which none of us can do it on our own."
(Diana Nelson Jones can be reached at djones@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1626. )
===