Introduction
A number of years ago I was part of the leadership of a church that was experiencing an intergenerational conflict. Most of the leaders were my age or older. They had lots of experience with how the church worked, and they also felt like they welcomed the participation of younger members, often looking for ways to draw them in. The younger members wrestled with how to be involved in church life. Many of them were busy with jobs, family commitments, kids. They were not sure how to access the meaningful volunteer roles and were not always sure if those roles were open to them. Most people in the congregation wanted to play some sort of role in the church, and everyone felt that they were open to working with others—and yet these problems persisted.
At the time, I was getting to know the president of a nearby synagogue. We talked about the challenge of bringing younger members into congregational leadership. He said it took years of work to change the dynamics. It left me wondering what was going on. What dynamics were at play in my congregation that I was not seeing? And I couldn’t help thinking: if some of our mostly white, mostly middle-class members could find themselves on the outskirts of the church community, what about People of Colour, people from the LGBT community, those with limited financial means, or members with mental or physical challenges?
This issue of how to make sure people are included within the circle of a community is many-layered. Those already inside the circle may not realize there is an issue. And even if we do, we may find that our efforts to be inclusive are not readily welcomed by people who have been marginalized and whose trust has been violated in the past. Or those at the margins may not understand the coded language and behaviours necessary to be accepted within the community. Let’s unpack some of this…
Why Widen the Circle?
We should start by asking why we might want to widen the circle to create a more inclusive community. This is not a rhetorical question; it is a good question. Some of us have been members of our congregation for a long time; we have a preferred style of worship and routines and traditions. So truly, why start mixing things up and risk changing this place in ways we may not like?
Some of us will be moved by the biblical ethic to love our neighbours, to make room for those who are “other” than us, and to support the marginalised. One way we can do this is to make our spiritual home a home for a more diverse group of people.
Another reason to widen the circle is that a lot of UU congregations formed many years ago, when it was considered appropriate for a church to be more homogeneous. But that is no longer the case. It is not the Unitarian Universalism we talk about on Sundays, and describe on our congregations’ websites, highlighting how we value open minds and diverse backgrounds.
Maybe most importantly, if we do not adapt our congregations to offer the kinds of diverse, multicultural, broadly spiritual communities and worship experiences that many, particularly younger people seek today, we simply will not thrive. Many of us have already seen how this can be a tangible threat to some UU congregations.
Expand Out Rather Than Invite In
If you find these to be compelling reasons to make room in your community for new faces, take a moment to think about how you picture that happening. Imagine throwing your doors open wide and new people streaming in. Close your eyes and imagine that Sunday sometime down the road, right here in this sanctuary.
I wonder if you are picturing a day a lot like today, but with more people filling the seats, maybe from more diverse backgrounds, more younger people. But that Sunday in the future will not just be a better-attended version of today, will it? Because when new people arrive, the circle does not just get larger, it wants to change due to those new influences.
So we have to learn not only how to invite people into our community, but more importantly, how to grow and change to meet the communities we are inviting in. The writer and Zen priest Rev. angel Kyodo williams writes that “it’s the community’s job to figure out how we can stretch into the so-called margins to broaden our understanding and the ability to be inclusive. Inclusivity is not ‘how do we make you a part of what we are?’ but ‘how do we become more of what you are?’”
Challenges
A congregation touches members of its community in so many ways, each one offering an opportunity to make new people feel welcome or not. We do it with our routines, policies, rituals, worship themes, our governance structure, how we choose our leaders, how we recruit volunteers, the ethnic and racial mix of the authors we choose for our readings and our music, how we think and talk about our history, how we incorporate online events, and how we arrange our furniture. Everything we do can make our communities seem more open or more exclusive; make us seem more inviting, or more like insiders. Sometimes even without us realizing it, even with good intentions.
This can be really subtle, so I want to give a few examples. Perhaps in an announcement during the service about a picnic, the notice says to email, say, someone named Carole. Now everyone knows that Carole coordinates the picnics. But do they? Is there someone new who may not know Carole? Are there two Caroles in the congregation? Does everyone have Carole’s email address? If I am new and do not know her, or know how to contact her, I may not feel as welcome to sign up for the event. I may end up feeling like an outsider.
One more. I noticed your covenant is based on the well-known words by Unitarian minister James Vila Blake that begin: “Love is the spirit of this church…” I’ve always loved this reading, particularly its reference to covenant–the implied promises that church members make to each other. I learned, though, that a UU ministerial colleague of mine who identifies as a queer Person of Colour and gave the okay to share this story… they do not like the reading, because it offers a picture of Unitarian Universalism that has not been enjoyed by UUs with marginalized identities, and it paints a vision that has not yet been realized.
What? This beloved reading, so popular among so many UUs? This is “Love is the spirit of this church”! This is as UU as you can get, isn’t it? Or is it?
Everything we do has the potential to reach outward or put up barriers. And one of our jobs, if we believe we’re called to be inviting, is to pay attention and learn to be attuned to those times when we might inadvertently send the wrong message.
Some obstacles to widening our communities to new people can be hard to accept. As we develop things we love about our congregation, we do not want anyone to mess with them.
- “I like classical music and don’t want to sing.”
- “I love to sing but don’t like the hymns.”
- “I prefer spoken prayer.”
- “I prefer silent meditation.”
- “I want a service that will pull me out of my comfort zone every week.”
- “I want a service that will nurture me every week.”
And in these situations, it is so tempting to use our power to influence the way these choices get worked out. To want our long tenure or generous giving or status as an elder or elected leader to give us extra sway around these decisions. And yet it can be so impactful to come to a place where we are willing to let go of that to help someone else feel more included. To say goodbye to parts of the familiar church we love. To live in the discomfort and perhaps grieve the change. And then one day discover that this is still your home.
The Importance of Stories
I want to finish by talking about stories, because stories are one way that a congregation establishes its character, and it is a place where privilege can hide.
Think of the example I gave a few minutes ago about the James Vila Blake reading “Love is the spirit of this church…” The story in most churches is that this is a beloved reading in the Unitarian Universalist tradition. That’s a true story. It’s an accurate reflection of how the reading is perceived by some of us. But it’s only one story. There is another story: that this reading paints too much of a feel-good picture of our communities. This second kind of story may help give voice to some people’s feelings of not fitting in; feelings that can’t be healed if those stories are not heard.
I was raised Jewish, and every year growing up, and into my adulthood, I had to navigate the social expectations and assumptions around the Christmas season. I rarely felt any malice, but I definitely had an awareness that the narrative for most people at that time of year was not my narrative, and it often left me feeling unseen.
What are your stories here at UUFP? When you think of the things you know about this place through stories, who do you picture telling them? Are they always the same group of people, or do these stories come from a wide range of places within the congregation? Who are the acknowledged wisdom-bearers? What stories may have gone unnoticed? Most importantly, what might you do—how might you find new ways to listen—to start hearing those stories that go silent?
As we strive to incorporate this change in mindset, those of us who are part of the dominant culture need to be careful about what is going on inside us, in that place where we feel the tug of discomfort, and our feelings can be hurt when what we are used to changes without our consent. James Cone, the American theologian who was central to the development of liberation theology warns that “dominant groups always get suspicious when change begins to take place and when the voiceless begin to speak.” It is as if centuries of being dominant have wired us to be intensely sensitive to the risks that face us when we open the circle to other voices.
One of the ways we affirm that everyone is valued is to avoid having that discomfort turn into resentment about people trying to impose new ideas or changes, or accusations that the people who want change are “too sensitive.” We can make space for people to tell their stories so we can honour them appropriately.
Conclusion
Oh, my goodness! What a challenge we have before us to live faithfully with each other! I hope you have heard in my examples how widening the circle of our community is fraught with risk and chances for us to fall down at every turn. You have likely heard implied in my message that we get it wrong all the time. Ouch!
But I forgot to mention a few things. I forgot to mention that we’re human, and we’re Unitarian Universalists, and that gives us some powerful resources:
- We have an infinite capacity for love and empathy, and a strong sense of justice.
- We know what is right. Even when we are failing, or thinking mostly of ourselves, or not quite sure what to do, we usually know what is right.
- Those among us who have been marginalized and excluded have modeled what it means to stay in relationship with those among us doing the marginalizing and excluding: offering grace and more patience than we should reasonably expect.
- And finally, yes, we fall down all the time. But we also get back up again, all the time. When we are at our best: owning our mistakes, asking forgiveness, making amends, and trying again.
This process of widening the circle is and will continue to be a constant struggle. And we Unitarian Universalists need to be engaged in that struggle. May all of us have the strength, wisdom, and compassion to stay in it, to share power, to hear each other’s stories, and to be generous with each other.
Amen.