Amsterdam—July 24, cont. Red Light District and churches
After leaving the “Our Lord in the Attic” church, we went
past the Old Church. This is the original city church, dating back to the
1300s. We will come back to it tomorrow, because closing time has already past.
We walked around the church a bit, just taking in the
interesting shapes and structural features of this medieval structure. One fact was impossible to miss: this old church is in the heart of the Red Light
District.
Amsterdam has taken a pragmatic approach to prostitution.
Street prostitution has been made illegal. In its stead, legal, licensed
(complete with tax number) prostitutes operate within the bounds of tiny
cubicles that line the narrow alleyways branching off the main street. Honestly, the sight of so many of these doors is an overwhelmingly sad and tragic sight. Enough said about that for now.
More to the point of this brief reflection: the presence of
this and at least five other churches in this part of town raises some
questions in my mind. I mean, some of the most obvious of the prostitutes’ cubicles
share the alley with the back of the Old Church. When you walk out the "back
door" of this ancient cathedral, you are looking into the doorway of half a
dozen of them. Barely 200 yards up the street is “Our Lord in the Attic”. St.
Nicholas’ and the four other Catholic churches that serve this parish, desiring as they
say “to provide pastoral and diaconal work . . . for the marginalized”, are
within blocks.
My questions? The churches have been here a long time. Did they slow
the incursion of prostitution and drugs into this area for any length of time? Did
they try? What did they see as their role? What was the reaction of the congregations to
the advent and eventual legalizing of these activities?
What impact did the culture exert on the churches? Did the
“world” finally “win” . . . did the churches simply cave to the inevitable? Did
they redefine their roles in the neighborhood? Will these churches eventually
cease to exist in this place, becoming interesting but lifeless museum pieces?
What is the role of these churches today? Are they in exactly
the right place, where depravity and debauchery are on full display, in order
to bring a safe, sanctifying, saving grace to the place . . . or should they
relocate (not an easy prospect in light of the giant cathedrals they have constructed)? Do they reach out to men and women who are desperate, lonely, and afraid
. . . or just hope these people will find their way in? Can these people even find a place in the church? Do the churches really make any significant
difference in this place? If so, what does that difference look like? What
should it look like? Is the world too strong, the brokenness so pervasive, that
the churches will likely never be able to turn this part (or for that matter,
any part) of the city back toward moral and spiritual well-being? Should they even
try?
I would ask the same questions of our church . . . or any
church, anywhere.
This is the "back door" of the Old Church. Across the alley, on the right, prostitutes occupy the cubicles day and night. I marveled at the casual ease with which families with kids wander these streets.
This is the view across the way from the front door of the church. What is not easy to see is the "coffee shop" behind the trees. At this coffee shop you can buy much more than a latte.
There are customers at these doors even in the afternoon.
Down a narrow alley, just off the main street. Proverbs 5:8 comes to mind (actually all of chapters 5, 6, and 7.)
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