Downtown Churches Still Have a Prayer

By Blair Clarkson
Staff Writer

July 14 -- As dawn broke and the morning sun cast its warm glow over the seaside town, the congregation watched in silent reverence as a round beam of light poured in through the great circular window above their church's front door, shining an ethereal spotlight on the pulpit.

A half-century ago, members of the Christian Institute of Spiritual Science, on the once-tranquil corner of Arizona Avenue and 2nd Street, called this sunlit sanctuary the "Chapel of Light."

Yet those days have long passed, and today the small, redbrick church – a fixture on this corner since 1943 – finds itself in shadow, both literally and figuratively. "I think people are just too self-absorbed when they're going to shop at Old Navy or catch a coffee at Barnes & Noble," said Rev. John Newton, pastor of the Christian Institute for the last 12 years. "People are just less aware of churches in general,” he said. "Occasionally people stop in and say, 'Gee, I pass this place a lot, I never really stopped to think it was a church.'"

A massive multi-story parking structure, built to accommodate the throngs of
tourists and shoppers who descend on Downtown and the Third Street
Promenade every day, now stands tall across the street, blocking much of the
eastern sky.

The loss of its heavenly illumination aside, it was more the growth of the Promenade as a popular entertainment and commercial center that has left the Institute, and the half dozen other Downtown churches, in the dark, tucked away behind apartment buildings, and often forgotten.

Today church leaders lament the reality that, as harried shoppers and hungry diners hustle from their cars to the bevy of stores and restaurants dotting the Downtown district, many fail to notice the surprising number of churches lining the crowded blocks surrounding the Promenade.

The Institute, with its relatively modest facade, is not alone in its obscurity. A mere block to the north across Arizona, concerned officials at the sprawling First Presbyterian Church of Santa Monica are also struggling for attention.

"The hard thing is, we're in a great location," said Associate Pastor Donna Lee Merz. "People are all over the Promenade, but they still don't know we're here."

Since 1975 First Presbyterian has commanded a seemingly unmistakable swath of 2nd Street between Arizona and Wilshire, on which sits a nursery school, an office building and two impressive multi-story chapels on either side of a wide courtyard.

Once a distinctive landmark on the city's western edge, the church is now dwarfed by the towering Wilshire Palisades buildings that front Ocean Avenue.

Despite its proximity to the heavily trafficked Promenade, the church continues to maintain a low profile, as busy shoppers stream past endlessly without pause, Merz said.

"You can walk down Second Street and never realize there was a church there," she said. "It happens all the time. People aren't coming to Santa Monica looking for a church, they're looking for a Gap. They're not walking down the Promenade going, 'Hmm, is there a church nearby?'"

***

Most of the Downtown congregations, which range in size from 50 to 500 members, are made up almost entirely of local residents, according to church officials.

"Virtually all our folks come from the Westside, the bulk of them from Santa Monica," said Rev. Hartshorn Murphy, whose 300-member flock at St. Augustine by the Sea Episcopal Church includes a number of singles and young families.

All but a few of the First Christian Church of Santa Monica's 80 parishioners are apartment dwellers who live near the 107-year-old church, at least half of them under the age of 40, according to Pastor Bill Miles.

To boost his sagging ranks, Miles also started a Korean church on his site and hopes to bring in more money by promoting wedding services.

Church leaders recognize that, as older members who helped build the congregations up over the years pass on, drawing new blood into their halls has become imperative.

"Even just to hold your own you've got to keep bringing in new people," said Merz of her 325-member assembly at First Presbyterian.

In an effort to emerge from the shadows of the Downtown community, several churches have worked to draw younger members, as well as those who do not normally attend church, by using their space for non-religious activities, such as yoga classes, 12-step programs, children's events and pre-schools.

"We tend to do better during the week with other kinds of programs than Sunday morning," said Newton, who only sees around a dozen of his more than 50 members on a given weekend.

"We're always reaching out to people," said Merz. "It's slow going, but it helps. Sometimes people don't necessarily come to a church looking for a church."

***

This sentiment may ring true today, but it wasn't always the case. Many of the Downtown churches planted roots during the late 19th and early 20th centuries in a decidedly different Santa Monica, where a rustic lifestyle revolved around church and community.

"In the beginning when these churches were built, everybody lived Downtown," said Miles. "Nobody lived out in the hills. Back in 1897 (when the church opened) this was a sleepy little burg.

"A hundred years ago people got on their horse and buggies and went to town and went to church," he said. "That's just what you did. And then they started building churches in the suburbs and all of that changed."

The steady exodus of residents away from the city center certainly took its toll on area churches, but Miles' ministry has faced an even greater challenge since 1994, when the Northridge earthquake battered the church's main building – a devastating event from which the parish has yet to recover.

"We are really struggling," Miles said, his voice rising above the sounds of construction, as volunteers continue to refurbish the dilapidated chapel. "As more and more churches are built in the suburbs, people don't come Downtown anymore (for services). But we intend to stay here."

Around the corner on 4th Street, Murphy gazes up at the brightly colored, two-story stained glass windows lining the spacious sanctuary within St. Augustine Church, as he recounts his own denomination's place in the city's history. The church didn't decide to locate Downtown, he said, so much as Downtown decided to locate around the church. "There was no true 'downtown' in the 19th century," said Murphy, "but churches have always wanted to be at the center of people and I suspect it was the logical place (for a city) to be.

"The city grew up, in a sense, around the churches," Murphy said.

But now it seems the city has grown up and over the Downtown churches, reducing their visibility and their importance and posing new challenges – including a shortage of parking and a growing homeless presence – that plague other Downtown establishments.

While some churches can use the Promenade parking structures on Sundays, and several have arranged to share lots with neighboring businesses, many parishioners find themselves forced to jostle for limited spaces on the street.

"Parking is always a problem," said Merz, echoing a familiar frustration felt throughout the crowded city.

"Sundays are okay," said Murphy, "but evenings and daytime events can be impossible."

***

The presence of a large homeless population Downtown has also tested the patience and ability of church officials to minister to the poor and downtrodden.

For every homeless resident who comes legitimately looking for aid and support, there are several more who come to take advantage of the free food, easy opportunities to panhandle and a place to sleep, church officials said. Some churches have reached the ends of their means.

"Our primary outreach has been to the homeless," said Miles, "although it does become more and more difficult as we're inundated by them."

Although he hated closing off the open space around the century-old church, Miles was forced to build a fence around the crumbling chapel to keep wave after wave of transients from urinating, defecating and sleeping in the courtyard.

"It was either that, or it would turn into a campground," he said.

"Churches are sitting targets in this," agreed Murphy, "and it comes with the territory."

The 60-year-old Christian Institute is so overrun with homeless struggling with mental and emotional problems that Newton is often forced to send them on to other agencies or clinics.

It's a difficult spot for church leaders, who know they are often being taken advantage of, but still recognize their obligation to reach out to those most in need.

"We can come to church and go to the beach, or come to church and go to the movies," said Merz, who uses the wide array of options to keep her youth groups involved and interested. "It's so close to everything. It's a fabulous location."

Newton credits Downtown's "spiritual magnetism" for its ability to maintain such a range of disparate faiths within such a small radius, including the Church of Christ Scientist at 505 Arizona and a Coptic Orthodox Church just a few doors down from St. Augustine's Episcopal on 4th Street.

"I really think there is something magnetic (about Downtown)," he said. "People have time to reflect here. I often think that Santa Monica is just welcoming to spiritual people. It's named after a saint after all."

And though the half-dozen Downtown churches may have fallen into the shadows of looming apartment buildings and hulking parking garages and perhaps lost some relevance, nobody is quite ready to pack their bags and head for the 'burbs just yet.