by Peter Heide
The sign outside said, “Join us. All are welcome.”
Believing the sign to be true, some friends of mine joined into worship at this church. They were greeted at the door, thanked for coming to be with them that day, and escorted to a pew in the sanctuary where they were left. People came and sat in pews near them, but no one said anything to them. Finally, one friend turned to engage the person behind him in conversation. He got no response. After worship, as they were leaving, the pastor shook their hands and said, “Thank you for coming today. I hope you will come again.”
My friends chose to be persistent. Each week, they came, were greeted, thanked for coming, and politely led to a place in the sanctuary before worship and left to themselves.
In time, they decided they needed to be more proactive and become more active in the congregation. They joined a Bible study. As they became acquainted with the spaces of the church and began to learn the names of others in the group, they felt more comfortable in the community and talked about their new experiences to others.
Then one night in January, when the temperatures were low, the air crisp, and the breeze brisk, my friends took a cab to church for the Bible study that week. They had a good time, and, after the study, they continued their conversation. The time got a little later than usual. When the time came to leave, my friends asked if anyone would be driving home in their direction. When no one claimed to live near them, they called a cab and went to the door to wait. While they were waiting, the pastor came by and thanked them for coming. He asked them if they would be OK. My friends assured him by saying, “Yes, our cab is coming.”
A few minutes later, the custodian said that he had to lock up. Would they just make sure that the door latched when they left?
Now, alone in the church, my friends waited for their ride. After 20 minutes, they again called the cab company. Twenty minutes more, and they called the cab company again. The dispatcher told them the cab had been there twice, and the driver couldn’t find anyone. The parking lot was empty, and the church was dark. Finally, one of my friends went outside in order to be seen by the driver. He stood in plain view with his white cane in 5-degree blustery winds. One hour after everyone had left, the cab finally arrived, and they were home shortly afterwards.
We often claim to be inclusive; we say that all are welcome; we offer our business services to everyone; and we are sincere. Yet because we assume those who join us are like us or, at least, want to be like us, we harbor the conceit that what we have is what everyone wants, and the reason that others have come to us is a desire to share what we already have. Therefore, we do not take time to listen to the concerns of those joining us, and we do not avail ourselves of the life experiences and life perspectives they bring to our community.
Saying we want people included is nice, but wanting people to belong requires hospitality, that is, warmth, friendliness, generosity. Hospitality is not just thanking people for showing up, but a willingness to move over, making space for the new person. Hospitality also means listening to their story and honoring their experiences. Hospitality means being willing to sacrifice what is familiar and comfortable in order to accommodate new ideas and ways of doing things. Hospitality means recognizing the person next to you, hearing what they have to say, and empowering them to participate in the work of the organization.
This does not mean we surrender our identity, but that we are willing to enter into new styles of being. It means being open to new roads and paths to getting where we all want to go — a world of belonging. When I lost my eyesight this last time, I was looking for a place to belong. Before coming to ACB, I tried a couple of other organizations. There I was tolerated, even included, but ACB is where I found I belong.