On leaving St. Hyperion Chapel
A few weeks ago, a family passing through from North Carolina stopped by to attend one of our Sunday gatherings at Hyperion. Like most people who hear about a church that meets in a brewery, they were curious. It was a typical day where we explored a story from scripture, gazed at a piece of art together, and heard a from-the-heart story shared by someone in our community. As this family prepared to hit the road, the mom of the group stopped to tell me how much they enjoyed the morning. She likened us to “a recovery community that meets in a bar”. Exactly, I thought, and inside I must admit I beamed with pride. I’ve always hoped we’d be a place where people can bring their real selves and be both supported and challenged on our healing journey (although admittedly, a brewery is not always the safest place for our friends who are in recovery).
Those reading this have probably heard by now that our beloved Hyperion is closing its doors. While we never intended to host Sunday gatherings there for so long, it has become home for us. I joked recently that the only way they could get us to leave was to close their doors - but seriously, were we ever going to leave?! The hominess of this space has a lot to do with the warm welcome and ongoing hospitality of the family who owns and now operates it. The Schussmans took a chance on hosting us, and what grew was more than a space rental relationship. We have become friends. They have cheered us on, and we have cheered them on, too. We celebrated milestones together and they made us feel more like we were sharing space than just renting it. They have been a real gift to our Well community and to the neighborhood we are located within.
Our friend Patrick dubbed it “St. Hyperion Chapel” and that feels just right. It’s been a sacred space where stories have been told, where we were brought home to ourselves, where we sensed the Holy, where we hosted important conversations and said some hard farewells to friends who’ve moved away. It’s been a sacred space where we learned to love our neighbor in new ways, where we felt tended to, where we sustained community during sabbatical, where we grieved & grew & celebrated the goodness that’s unfolding here. We are going to miss this brewery-turned-chapel so very much.
As we prepare to transition in early Spring, you may be wondering what’s next. Over the past few years, we have been taking steps toward leasing a more permanent space. There has been a lot of reluctance as we’ve made what feels like several half-hearted attempts. Something keeps holding us back. I’ve decided to stop chalking it up to failed leadership (me!) and have been wondering if it’s in part because of the surprising gifts we have experienced through sharing space. I’m wondering if we are still drawn, at least for now, to how we can use our resources in a more neighbor-focused direction.
Whatever the reason, we keep stopping short and at the same time, we have started noticing another possible direction. The newest Overalls farm is being cultivated on E. 7th. It sits just behind the Sanctuary on 8th Street, where Neighborhood Commons currently borrows space. There is something about our desire to dedicate more attention toward our growing group of children + our energy for Church in the Wild + Neighborhood Commons that feels worthy of our attention. We’ll be doing a little dreaming about this possibility together on Sunday, February 4th.
We started at a soul food diner on Main Street and have shared space with everything from laundromats to an ice cream parlor to an art museum. While it’s become clear that our life together does not depend on having a “building”, every space we’ve shared for a season has shaped us in significant ways.
As we prepare to leave St. Hyperion Chapel and to celebrate what they have meant to us, I’m both nervous and eager to see how we will evolve, what new relationships will grow, and who we will continue to become together.
peace + love -
Susan