Walking the Talk of Welcome - 2012 Oregon Synod Assembly Workshop
This workshop will focus on discussion around why speaking our welcome is often so much easier than actually living out active hospitality to the stranger in our congregations. How do we learn to translate our intent to welcome everyone to actual hospitable behavior that goes beyond mere tolerance of "differentness" to a celebration of diversity?
Here are some of the questions we'll be trying to find answers for during this workshop - please feel free to offer your comments about any of them. I'd love to hear what you think!
General Questions for Thought:
How has grouping together based on “sameness” enabled human survival and progress through history?
In what ways is the ELCA still based on ethnic/social/cultural “sameness”? As a church, how have we held fast to the values of our Northern European Lutheran ancestors?
Why does diversity feel so scary? How does losing our “sameness” threaten us in deep ways?
On how it feels to be welcomed – or not:
Have you ever walked into a group or congregation and felt un-welcomed? What specific behaviors led to your feeling of not being welcomed? What was said or not said to you? Why did you not feel a part of the group?
Have you ever walked into a group or congregation and felt welcomed? What specific behaviors led to your feeling of being welcomed? What was said or not said to you? Why did you feel a part of the group?
The welcome we offer in our congregations:
How open or closed do you think your congregation is to people who are not “like us”? (Hint: What secrets do people keep in order to remain accepted in the group?)
Is our welcome for people “like us” or for “the stranger”? How do we move members of a congregation from awkward discomfort to active hospitality, especially to the stranger?
Awkward Discomfort / Being Unwelcome
I have thought of the question “Have you ever walked into a group or congregation and felt un-welcomed?” from different perspectives.
At times I have felt socially uncomfortable in certain groups or in congregations. I make the distinction between social discomfort and being unwelcome because I have only personally experienced what I would consider to be passive neglect. Yes, there have been times I knew the group identity did not include me. Perhaps I didn’t know anyone in attendance, no one came up to me and I did not have or feel there was the opportunity to meet anyone. There may have been routines, conversations, knowledge I needed and social activity I was not familiar with that contributed to my social discomfort.
However, I do not claim to have experienced being deliberately or actively shunned or encountered behavior that let me know, because of who I am, I was not welcome. This is another, seperate level of being unwelcoming in my mind. This is where the need to keep secrets that you mentioned above comes into play.
I have seen this happen in groups and congregations and many times feels more visible and consciously chosen by those who are actively engaging in it.
Good distinction
I agree, Gary, that sometimes a perception of being unwelcomed can say more about the person perceiving it that the group about which the perception is made. Both the group and the individual will often tend to seek "likeness," so will feel awkward and out-of-place when with a group of people who, for some reason, feel different.
For example, I know of a man who is very politically conservative who will state that he doesn't feel "welcome" at Holden Village, which I happen to believe is about the most welcoming places on earth. His sense is that his views are too different, he can't find a comfortable place there, and attributes his discomfort to a lack of welcome rather than his own sense of differentness. Would welcome, for him, mean agreement with his political point of view?
On the other hand, I recently experienced an awkward sense of unwelcome while visiting an ELCA congregation for the first time. I knew no one, and sat in an empty pew. Shortly before the service started, a couple who were clearly active in the congregation (she participated in a part of the service) sat in the same pew. They avoided eye contact with me. During the passing of the peace, I turned to them again and found both of their backs to me. I greeted the people in front of and behind me, then turned again to the couple beside me. Still, they kept their backs to me despite the fact that they were no longer greeting congregants around them. At then end of the service, they left the pew by the side aisle, again avoiding any contact with me, the visitor. It's really tough to be a visitor in that situation - one can't help but wonder "what is it about ME that they don't like?" The issue might be more about them, about circumstance, or something else than about me, but I do wonder how many people walk into our churches and leave wondering "what is it about me that isn't acceptable?"
You give perfect working examples in your reply
What great examples you have pulled in with your personal stories.
The question you ask about Holden welcome is crucial to the question of welcome. "Would welcome, for {an individual}, mean agreement with that individual's political point of view?"
In a Soul Cafe "Getting Started" poll 59% of respondents thought the question that occupied them the most as a Christian Lutheran in the Pacific Nothwest was the polarization of society. I don't think pretending to agree with an individual's viewpoint is good faith and, in my opinion, is not very respectful. However Holden, again, is great for this example because there is both worship and personal encounters that may be part of what is making this man uncomfortable. Can the community modify worship and / or discussions to agreed-on goals with integrity rather than specific actions that might achieve those goals to be invitational? Can the church be a place that moves away from polarization or does love in action demand action that, by nature, is polarizing?
This leads to the wonderful question "If the church welcomes people I don't feel comfortable with and that makes me feel uncomfortable or unwelcome, has that congregation been less than welcoming to me or my viewpoint?"
With your example of being the first time visitor, I definitely related, having been in your shoes, and did precisely what you did. I have sat in an empty pew before the service started. Did that signal to people I did not want talk, that I wanted to meditate before the service? I don't know.
The question "What is it about me that isn't acceptable?" is the common question people would have. And yet, there is nothing you have described that would lead me to the belief there was something about your appearance (which woud be all there would be to go on) that was unacceptable.
So, if that couple attended your workshop, would they recognize themselves? Perhaps they might personally recognize you in this particular instance but I am fairly certain they would not recognize themselves if someone else was presenting the workshop. While this is extremely important to the visitor the congregation probably feels they are very welcome and that the service itself is an important, if not the most important part of the visitor's experience.
Do I recognize myself in the couple? Not in avoiding eye contact (I can't think of a time I have avoided eye contact with a stranger in church), but sometimes I must admit, if I was doing something in the service, I might think before a service that I didn't want to be distracted. Tough admission for myself. Then, after the service, those who are active in the congregation are talking to one another while the uncomfortable visitor is beelining out the door.
I am always interested in how to address this.
Pastor's welcome
Great discussion Gretchen and Gary. I, too have been in situations where I felt more ignored than unwelcome in worship. On sabbatical a few years ago I worshipped in a different denomination or non-denomination every week. I didn't know the order of service. Wasn't sure what to wear (so easy for Creator folks, jeans, suit, whatever), but in a new setting you're not sure. I know that I felt most out place and self-conscious when I was ignored and given a distant smile. At the end of worship, I'd "come out" to the pastor and that was sometimes weird when I'd get the "You're a pastor?" look.
As a pastor I think it's a bit easier to extend welcome because I'm "on" on Sundays. I try to make sure I share the peace with any newcomers, greet them at the door, etc. I also think our space at Creator makes a difference. People can see one another in worship and recognize each other. Gretchen's "pew" experience reminded me how difficult it is to get out of and back into a pew if you're doing a BIG share. I think that removing physical blocks and restrictions in some ways forces a connection which can be beneficial, too. I'm very aware, too that some folks are way introverted and that's okay. I have a few go-to people who will always greet the stranger and somehow are able to make connections between folks. They know how to ask the right questions. It's really a gift.
Garb and Gift
Yes, trying to answer the question of what to wear and remembering that there is something of a gift in asking the right questions to make solid connections; both help me gain some perspective on addressing the "discomfort" side of hospitality.
A visitor attends worship having already made a decision on what to wear. If they checked out the church website and there are pictures of people worshipping it may give the clue on what most people wear on a given Sunday. Otherwise the visitor won't know and may feel out of place.
The "go-to people gift" reminds me this does not work best as a "make sure someone talks to the visitors" assigned duty. In our church it is much easier to identify visitors now that most regular members wear name tags. Still I have much to learn from people who have or have developed their gift.
Welcome Feeling
Another slant -- feeling welcome not in a "new" congregation, but in our own. Cliques will always exist, but in small congregations it feels geometrically awkward. Sitting down at "their" table feels like I'm interupting a conversation. Like I should have received an invitation before sitting down "there".
Being a "primarily 55+ (65+, 75+, 85+) age group", some have had friendships together for 50+ years. A few attend every single Sunday. Most of the rest of us have health issues, traveling committments, work, lots of other committments that keep us away from church 1/2 the time. We can go months without running into the same set of folks, and it would feel good to just catch up and just visit after Service. Our average attendance is 35-ish. Does anyone use any techniques to get folks to occasionally sit with someone less familiar after Service at coffee hour? Even once in a while? Or is that asking too much? Other than everyone's name, after 15 years, I barely know anything about some fellow members. The 8-10 that are on EVERY committee are easier to know. Some of the others feel like such strangers.
Sit Boldly At "Their" Table
The technique I use now is to sit with the people at "their" table. Yes, at first I feel like I am interrupting the conversation. Yes, I would rather have had an invitation before I sat down. However, you know their names, you can open a talk by expressing your desire to catch up. And yes, there will still be times when there is just continued awkwardness. If it is coffee hour, I keep in the back of my mind that I can go for a refill and sit somewhere else if I feel that is what they want.
You also mentioned you are kept from attending Sundays for various reasons about half the time. I don't know about you, but weird inner guilts can build up in me when that happens. I imagine what people's Sunday expectations are (thinking, for some reason, everyone is expected to attend every Sunday). That guilt makes me feel like people have motivations and are communicating judgements they don't have and are not making.
For me, that happens also with expectations of myself which you also touched on with your last sentence "Some of the others [... that are not easy to know... ] feel like such strangers". When more or less the same people meet each Sunday, but not all the people are always present, I end up feeling like I should know certain people more than I do.
Another little guilt I constantly need to be mindful of in myself because it keeps me from approaching others.
What I have said here may not be what other people experience in this but I do want to let you know you are not alone in your feelings.
More on this discussion of welcoming "the other"
For those of you who attended the workshop and those who are just interested, the following blog post from the Center for Courage and Renewal seems very appropriate. It refers to habits of the heart as specified in Parker Palmer's book Healing the Heart of Democracy, directed at congregations:
Habits of the Heart of Healthy Congregations - Part 3
by John Fenner
How are we, as members of communities of faith, called to welcome the stranger?
In previous posts I introduced the Habits of the Heart as described in Parker Palmer's Healing the Heart of Democracy , pondered their importance to healthy congregations, and explore the first habit, the understanding that we're all in this together. In this post I'll explore the second habit: An appreciation of the value of "otherness."
Who among us hasn't had the experience of being the other? When I moved from my birthplace in New York to Vermont in the early 1980s, I was labeled a "flatlander"; when I later moved to Hawaii, I was a "haole"; when I backpacked through Southeast Asia, everything about me - my pale skin, my height, my clothes - screamed "other; and when I moved to the mountains of North Carolina twenty-three years ago, I was (and still am) a "yankee." These are just a few of my experiences of being "the other." I imagine there could be an entire dictionary of terms for "otherness."
The ways in which I experienced this "otherness" have ranged from fear for my physical safety, to a sense of hospitality so deep and welcoming that it brought tears to my eyes. I guess that I would say that these helped me become a student of hospitality, of welcoming the stranger, of looking for and appreciating the value of otherness. These experiences helped draw me into racial equity work - where the otherness of skin color has granted privileges to some and oppressed others. These experiences, in part, drew me into Courage and Renewal work and the importance of hospitality in our circles of trust. And these experiences have drawn me into various communities of faith...communities that work at and appreciate the value of otherness.
All of the great faith traditions embrace the virtue of hospitality and most see it as a moral imperative.
In Judaism, showing hospitality (hakhnasat orchim) to guests is considered a mitzvah, or commandment from God. When one knows of strangers who are hungry or need a place to relax, it becomes a legal obligation. Some rabbis consider hakhnasat orchim (literally the "bringing in of strangers") to be a part of gemilut hasadim (giving of loving kindness).
Hospitality was a crucial practice among early Christians and continues to be lifted up today. The New Testament (Romans 12:13) exhorts followers to Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to the stranger. A Greek word, xenos, found in the New Testament, incorporates a profound truth (paradox!): the word means both "stranger" and "guest".
In Islam, the Holy Prophet Muhammad said that hospitality was a symptom of faith. This notion was not limited to one's near and dear ones, rather each guest, regardless of religion, was served well and taken care of.
In Buddhism, hospitality (sakk?ra) is the act of being welcoming and helpful to guests, strangers, and travelers alike. Hospitality is thought of as a basic level of generosity and as such is a foundation for the spiritual life.
Offering hospitality is fundamental to Hindu culture and providing food and shelter to a needy stranger was and is a traditional duty of the householder. The unexpected guest is called the atithi, literally meaning "without a set time." Hindu scriptures enjoin that the atithi be treated as God."
And so, with the virtue of hospitality, of appreciating the value of "otherness" as a foundation for all of the great wisdom and religious traditions, I have been interested in exploring how well it is being practiced by the communities of faith that I come into relationship with.
My experiences and observations again represent a broad continuum. I've witnessed and been a part of communities who have struggled mightily with the tension of welcoming and appreciating otherness, while maintaining the core of their own rituals, practices and beliefs.
I've also witnessed and participated in communities that demonstrated very little tolerance for difference. In one church, some members recoiled in fear and struck out in anger when outreach to the "unchurched" threatened to disrupt their neat and tidy beliefs and worship rituals.
Appreciating the value of otherness, for me, goes beyond tolerance - beyond "you're welcome as long as you play by our rules." Appreciating the value of otherness entails a level of engagement, inquiry, dialogue, and interaction in which all members can freely share their gifts, learn from each other, and ultimately grow spiritually together. This is hard work and takes time and practice. It takes a willingness to be stretched and to sit with discomfort. It takes a belief that there is "that of God in everyone."
For me, it goes back to my own experiences of being the other - the times I was welcomed and the times I was rejected. Because of these experiences, I try to remember to extend welcome in all situations and locations. I fail time and again, stumble in my ignorance around some manners of difference, and try again. I am helped by my friends, colleagues, and fellow community members who embrace hospitality and struggle to deepen their appreciation of the value of otherness.
What about you? How do you practice this habit of the heart? How is the appreciation of the value of otherness cultivated in your community of faith? What happens when this habit in not embodied? Are their limits to the appreciation of otherness when it comes to our places of worship? Let me know, I'm curious.
John Fenner is director of Courage & Renewal Programs for Clergy and Congregational Leaders. For more information about these programs, click here .
This blog post can be found here: http://www.couragerenewal.org/blog/103-parker-entries/466-habits-of-the-...