The Courage to be Welcoming
By Mary Kay DuChene.
Note: This article uses faith community examples to explore what it means to be welcoming. There are many types of communities in our society, and all need to be welcoming, so we encourage you to translate this article to fit your context.
When I served on an ELCA synod staff, I often showed up at churches on a Sunday morning—to be present, to teach an adult forum, to preach, to install a new pastor, to lead a workshop after church, and sometimes just to experience a congregation I would later be working with in some capacity. I walked through the doors a newbie. If I had my robe and stole on, or draped over my arm, people would go out of their way to approach me, knowing I had an official role, I suppose. I generally felt very welcomed. But if I didn’t carry a symbol of who I was, and I was unknown to the congregation, more often than not no one spoke to me. No. One. And yet, if I later had occasion to work with a committee in the church, and I asked them what they loved about their community, more often than not I would hear about how welcoming they are. Then I would have to tell them about my experience of their welcome.
Last week, my colleague emilie boggis wrote about the courage it takes to be the newbie in a room or group. Our goal to connect (our purpose) is the thing that helps us move beyond our fear, don a cloak of courage, and step into the unknown space. It’s true that staying connected to purpose makes it easier to do something challenging. And, emilie’s article got me thinking about the other side of connection—those who are already IN.
It doesn’t take courage to be part of a group in which you’re already at the center, does it? It’s such a comfortable place to be. After a time, it feels like home. That’s some of what gets in the way for newbies. Entering a space that feels like home to others can make the new person feel as if they are invading others’ territory—virtually walking into someone’s home unannounced, with no invitation.
Don’t get me wrong—it’s important to be in deep relationship with those who show up every Sunday, every Wednesday, to committee meetings, and to outreach activities. But that’s not welcoming the stranger. Welcoming the stranger means stepping out of one’s own comfort zone and approaching the person you’ve never seen before and saying, “Welcome to our community! I don’t think we’ve met, and I’m glad you’re here!” That takes courage for some folks to do, and yet that small step can make all the difference in the world for the newbie.
What can those of us at the center (whether your organization is a house of worship, a nonprofit, or a community center) do to make newbies feel welcome? Let me tell you, the work starts long before a new person opens the door. And for those in the center, that’s where courage is needed. Courage? To be the one doing the welcoming? How so?
As much courage as it takes to walk up to new folks and welcome them, it also takes a lot of courage before that moment to take a good hard look at your community and objectively discern how welcoming you really are AND take needed steps to dial up the hospitality. It takes courage because oftentimes the needed changes are ones that rattle the status quo. For example, in my role as synod minister, I walked into a church to join them in their yearly celebration (they proudly talked about how this tradition had been happening for over 100 years). There were Norwegian flags everywhere, and the dinner fare also was decidedly Norwegian. And yet, they shared their space with a South Sudanese worshiping community. It made me wonder whether their South Sudanese community members felt welcome to attend the yearly celebration. What changes could this church have made to be more welcoming to their close neighbor?
How do you know how welcoming your community is? At another church I served, we asked friends unrelated to the church to come just once and tell us how welcoming we were. Of course we didn’t tell any members we were doing it, so the “spies” appeared as just average visitors. They wrote us a report card, with the things we did well and the things that felt less than welcoming (for example, do you have signs that point toward the bathrooms? Are they in multiple languages?). The part that took courage was not only to receive the feedback, but also then to have respectful and compassionate conversations about how others perceived us; then we had to decide to make changes that disrupted the status quo (those changes broke with tradition, sacred cows, and general norms).
When I was in seminary, I worshiped at many different faith tradition services. The most welcoming experience I have ever had was at an historically Black church in St. Paul (shout out to Pilgrim Baptist!). I was clearly an outsider by the color of my skin, so I couldn’t really hide. People approached me as if I was a long-lost cousin they couldn’t wait to see again. Rev. Gill preached about the fences that keep people out, including the altar railing (he was referencing their traditions and rules about who was welcome at the communion table!), and then they had a long greeting time after the sermon. People flocked to me, welcomed me, asked me for a bit of my story. It felt warm, and comfortable, and… welcoming. Imagine if every church experience was like that. My question to you is this: What one small courageous step can your community take to dial up your welcome?
May you be well, and may you have the courage to be radically welcoming to your neighbor.
