The Indianapolis times., 1928-12-03
The One
Thing Thou
LackeSt!'
Only Single Difference; but
Nearer HIM in Church of
Forgotten Souls.
BY ARCH STEINEL

H1GIOG . d CiluIC1 III 4uQldIldp-
4 oils where you never hear of
"hell-f1re and brimstone;;" where
the pastor never walks ont on an
emotional plank and tips poor sin
ners off into eternity; where the
congregation has been adjudged by
Coda kind God-and await an
end If there is such a thing.
Its pastor-the Rev. J. M. Griffin,
a Quaker of lainfield-receiveS not
a dime from his parishioners. He
never baptizes, never marries his
flock, never asks that the collection
box be passed.
1t is the Church of Forgotten
Souls-the Central State hospitals
chapel exercises each Sunday in
Cornelius Mayer hall.
II II
1T is Sunday.
4 Church bells toll somewhere in
Indianapolis. No bells at the Church
of Forgotten Souls.
A squirrel slithers up a tree as an
outsider treSpasseS on the chapel
grounds. A pigeon cote, on the roof
of the buildings with the barred
windows, jabbers morning mass.
Doors of two buildings open. Men
file out of this one, singly, women
out of that one.
The squirrel drops out of the tree.
He Scampers, unafraid, in the path
of the yelled ones.
A ND I, if be lifted up from the
L n earth, will draw all men unto
me- John 1882, is my text for this
morning, the Rev. Mr.. Griffin tells
his congregation.
A choir sings ''Holy! Holy! Holy!"
Six hundred lives look at you, ask
to be drawn out of their selves. Sun
light walks in the window of the
chapel, casting hope ray on this
futile face, on that vapid stare. It's
momentary, for these are-the-
Holy! Holy! Holy!" sings the
choir.
a PERSON can never be up un-
"a less he's been down." AYERS
the pastor.
A thought germ strikes familiar
chord. The restless head of the
man on the front row--he's been
going to the Church of Forgotten
Souls for fifty years-raises. With
a half-whimsical smile he mods at
the pastors phrase and murmurs
the conventional cleric Amen"
The Rev. Mr.. Griffin tells of
Jesus and "his mama like honey"
Queer the way the Bible phrased
things-in allegories. Mamma like
honey" and here-why-here life's
all an allegory. "Manna"-it can
mean money" to one, "love" to an
other, "hope' to the little woman
over there in the corner with her
head covered up to her chin. 1t is
hope to her. She has peeked out
from behind her shawl.
Mama! God-manna touching the
Forgotten Souls.
a N unshaved one is looking at
L n us. He's crucifying us.
What did you pry for-we don't
want you. Get out! Get out-be-
fore you're one of us. We don't
want you. You-you-don't know
the way"
No! No business here. Just a
Peeping Tom in life's boudoir. A
church chapel, the boudoir of life,
and on week days they use it for
dances and movie shows. Slipping
sure.
The unshaved one is right.
The Rev. Mr.. Griffin begins the
Lords Prayer: "Our Father who art
in Heaven-haI-''
"Hallowed be thy name" re-
peatS the lInshaved one and halt
ing, warns us with his eyes.
The aged woman behind the shawl
answer his warning with a slow
smile. It says" "Stay-you under
stand-understand us-you know
there's only one thing that makes
us different from you've are near
er Him."
NEXT Sundays text will be 1.-THE
IN One Thing Thou Lackest con-
cluded Mr.. Griffin.
The woman peeked from behind
her shawl. She nodded us an "I
told you so"
And she seemed to say "you
needn't come, for I told you your
lack"
We won't.
HOST TO ROYAL PAIR