Just Church (2)

Chapter 1: In the Side Door

“For certain people have crept in unnoticed, those who were long beforehand marked out for this condemnation, ungodly persons who turn the grace of our God into indecent behavior and deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ.”

One day soon, a very nice person will appear in your church.

It could be a person from a visible minority group, somebody disabled, somebody with a distinctive skin color, or somebody who doesn’t look any different from most of the congregation. It could be a man or a woman; and while it is more likely to be a young-to-middle-aged person, it could conceivably be somebody older as well. Likely, but not certainly, it will be a formally-educated person, somebody with a university degree, perhaps; but not necessarily. They may appear singly or in a group of some kind.

But whoever it is, this person (or persons) will be very concerned and compassionate. “For too long,” they will tell you, “there have been people not given a proper place in our church, people who are pushed to the margins and made to feel less-than.” Maybe the problem is that the congregation as a whole looks “too average” or “too white”; or maybe there are many congregants who are just silent, and whose cultures and values are not being properly reflected in the church’s practices; and maybe there is a lack of “persons of color” or other minorities in leadership roles. But there will be a problem to point out, and it will be the sort of thing that is rightly concerning.

For purposes of this story, as a fictional device, I’m going to call this person “the nice lady”.

“Nice Lady?”

Maybe you think I shouldn’t. You might worry that maybe I’m being sexist or something. But I’m not: there’s a better than even chance that this person is going to be female(1), so it’s the most honest thing for me to do. It’s not necessarily going to be a woman, of course, not in every case; but statistically, it seems more likely than not. Also, more likely than not, she’s going to be a professional person of some kind, moderately educated, reasonably intelligent, but not somebody who has before been noted for her depth of scripture knowledge or exemplary spiritual walk.

I’m also going to call her a “lady”. But “lady” is more than merely “woman”, isn’t it? It’s a term of artificial social status. In olden days, we used to call an aristocrat “Lady Astor” or “Lady Mary”(2). By extension, the term “lady” could also be given to any woman of known good character. The implication was that this was somebody to admire and imitate. That’s also the picture I want to create: this is definitely a person who is making some effort to position herself as just a little better than average folks, though she probably does so pleasantly and subtly rather than aggressively.

Then I’m also going to call her “nice” because despite her tinge of aloofness, that’s how she tends to come across in general. She’ll likely seem quite morally earnest and empathetic, concerned for the welfare of others. She speaks of compassion, inclusion, justice, fairness, togetherness, and so on. She worries about things like people not being treated well or others being forgotten, or some folks not feeling welcome or comfortable with their situation in the church. It’s hard not to feel immediate sympathy for somebody who’s being nice. You’re going to feel you want to hear what she has to say.

First Hearing

Now, what she says is that the church has been failing. It’s been failing seriously in its duty of caring.

Very likely you’ll be startled at first. Your church has been running along for some time now, following its usual procedures. And up to now, there have only been the ordinary sort of problems to deal with — you know, the kind of things that need to be managed whenever groups of people get together and try to do anything in common. And there’s always been a kind of order of authority in place: there are shepherds who lead and there are congregants; there are the elderly, the middle-aged and the young. There are those who have become more mature in the faith, and some who perhaps have not seemed to be making much progress. But you’ve always done your best to design programs and invite teaching that will encourage worship, promote good doctrine and meet a variety of congregational needs. It’s all pretty routine.

But this is different. Somehow, in a vague way, you sense that you are being accused of something … not so much of deliberate unkindness or bad intentions, maybe, but at least of a kind of callous unawareness. Apparently there are people who are unhappy in your congregation, and unhappy beyond the routine ways people sometimes are. And somehow this is your fault. But what’s worse is that apparently your thoughtlessness has taken on a rather nasty shape, something along racial and cultural lines, maybe; or just too traditional and hidebound; or too narrow and judgmental in regard to personal ethics.

First Response

Naturally, you’re horrified at such a thought, and your first inclination is to defend yourself, because who wants to be called a racist, a bigot or a Pharisee … even if unknowingly? No, you’re not that. And you would hate to think you ever, even by accident, had completely missed something so important, and been caught being clueless, unaware, callous or uncaring. No, no; never.

And you’re also a Christian. So you can’t help but wonder, “Is the Lord using this nice person to get my attention?” We would never want to find our hearts closed to Him. So you know how important it is to be charitable and to listen. We’re all saved sinners, after all; and taking advice or even rebuke with patience and humility is a sign of Christian maturity. So maybe you decide not to overreact and just listen for a bit, and see if there’s something you’ve overlooked. Maybe it’s a quick fix. Maybe just making some adjustment to church practices and procedures is enough to eliminate any problem.

Good thing the nice lady showed up when she did, right? She seems to have a handle on this situation.(3)

So, you invite this nice person (or people) to explain further. Maybe you even strike a committee to look into the situation — to poll the congregation, and see if there is a perception that your meeting is being unwelcoming, or uncaring, or just unresponsive in some area. Or maybe you offer to invent a new outreach or program intended to make people feel more welcome.

“Well, that’s nice,” the nice person will say, “but the problem is deeper than you know.” She’ll go on to tell you that it’s systemic, and that unless we make broad changes not just to what we are doing but to the whole way we’re thinking about things as well, the problem is bound to persist.

So again, you ask for further information and insight. If she sees a problem, you want to know what it is.

The nice person will generously agree to help. From now on, you can ask her anything you want to know, and she will have helpful suggestions as to how the local church could be made more congenial to minorities, more friendly, and better representative of Christian values. It’s good that you feel bad about what’s happened, she’ll say, but feeling bad isn’t enough — there have to be practical changes, and she will be only too glad to help you discover what they are. “We are learning and growing together,” she will say. “This is all about all of us getting better at being fair and just to everyone.”

You likely won’t stop to ask where she’s getting her ‘special insights’ from. You probably also won’t catch that she has very little, if anything at all, to say from the word of God. You’re so taken aback at the thought that you may have missed all this that your critical defenses are down.

And isn’t it true that in many ways, the church on earth is never all she should be? Why not makes some changes, and see if things get better? So very quickly, you fall into a habit of agreement with her. You try to be “on the right side” of this thing.

Ratcheting Up

But what you’ll find is that when you try to make a change, she’ll always remind you that it’s not enough. The problem is deeper than you realize, she’ll say, and only somebody who’s really given attention to it as she has can see how the whole way you’ve been doing things has been going wrong. You’re all well-intended, she’ll remind you, but you just don’t understand yet: the problem’s really system-deep. There are historical precedents and causes here, things you don’t really understand yet. She’ll say that everything we do has an effect of marginalizing or sidelining some community of underprivileged people, and it’s going to take an ongoing struggle to reshape our whole way of thinking and acting to be more receptive and Christlike.

If you object that anything she’s suggesting might be difficult or disruptive, she’ll remind you that your unthinkingness was the problem in the first place, and it’s no time to stop listening to her now. God forbid there should be racism, or sexism, or ableism, or ageism, or just stodgy traditionalism found in our assembly. Forward is the only way to go.

She’s got something on her mind, so she’ll also have at least one proposal for how we should do that. If she pulls out any scripture to back that proposal, it won’t be much. But her determined sincerity is convincing, so maybe we grant her a chance to try.

But if we start with that one, she’ll soon have more. There was the problem in the Sunday School … but now, the same sort of problem shows up in the youth group as well … then in the adult social activities and in the committee work, and then in the marketing, and the composition of the leadership in the church, the financial priorities, the outreach efforts, and in the music and the preaching too. Progressively, the proposals for change will begin to press on every area of church life, especially anything high profile or financially significant.

Growing Unease

It will take some time for her ideas to take hold and for all these kinds of changes to start to be implemented. Change doesn’t come all at once: each new department or program will have to be adjusted consecutively. It might even take a year or two before the effects are felt in all corners of the church.

But maybe by this time you’re becoming a bit unsettled. You see that this person is starting to demand a lot. She’s really starting to want to have an influence on everything. More and more you’re noticing that you don’t feel good even when you respond quickly. A sort of fog of guilt and shame are starting to hang over the congregation, particularly when any of these new reforms are being brought in. People are starting to feel unhappy and resentful in a vague sort of way. And factions are beginning to develop: where people used to get along from week to week, there’s now a pervasive tone of suspicion starting to drive a wedge in between folks. It’s not as much fun to be with each other anymore. It’s starting to be more tense and cliquey than you can ever remember it being.

And the vocabulary that’s starting to pop up … when did everybody start using words like “race” or “inclusion” or “equity” or “marginalization” and “social justice” in your church? When did “being white” become a thing, and when did being male become something you have to apologize for? Why is every objection to the changes labeled as “phobic”, as driven by fear rather than principled hesitation? And why are all the things you used to do in church now “bad” or “right wing”? Echoes of things you’ve heard in the larger world, at work, at school, in business, in the media keep popping into your head. You’ve heard this stuff before somewhere … if only you could remember where …

You want an inclusive church. You just don’t feel comfortable with some of the things that are being included with the new changes.

At the same time, you’ve seen how thing have started to play out if anybody happens to mention that the church is starting to change in strange directions, or to express any hesitation, or just to want to slow things down. Such people are put down immediately. This putting down may take the form of no more than a disapproving stare and a painful silence that makes the speaker feel as if he has humiliated himself by speaking up. Or it could take the form of a murmured rebuke, like, “Well, we want to deal with the problem, don’t we? And you’re surely not saying we don’t have one …”

Shutting Down Resistance

But if you persevere in objecting, then other tactics come into play. You may simply be ignored, and the nice person may simply persist as if the concern has not been spoken at all. But it can also ramp up to more overt forms of bullying and silencing, such as ominous predictions that the church could become resentful and fractious if the new reforms aren’t brought on line quickly. And if your concerns look like they’re being taken seriously, it’s not unusual for them to elicit more dramatic gestures, such as sulking, explosions of righteous indignation and even outright bullying.

You don’t want to be subjected to all that. And you are no longer sure of where the congregation stands on a lot of these issues. You might be alone. Nobody’s really speaking up anymore, except, perhaps, to agree with the nice lady whenever she calls for that. So how are you to know if anyone else is feeling your concerns? You feel more and more alone.

And gradually, gradually, gradually … step by step, everything is starting to change. You notice that more and more of the energy and attention of the whole church is moved away from things you used to think about — the Bible, worship, evangelism, service, and so on, toward some sort of more general social concern or activism.

___________________________
(1) While I wish to re-emphasize that it could be a man or a woman, the feminine pronouns are to be preferred here for various reasons; most obviously, that the majority of social workers (77.8%), social activists (55%), public educators (75.5%), and personnel managers (72%) are women. And these classes are particularly exposed to the beliefs in question. It also has some practical utility in differentiating the social justice advocate in the narrative from the predominantly male roles otherwise described.

(2) More modern readers may catch the joke in self-appointed titles like “Lady Marmalade” or “Lady Gaga”. The implication is that these women command attention and are aristocrats of a sort, though not in any conventional sense.

(3) Ironically, it’s unlikely to occur to you while you’re searching your own soul that this person might have any serious character flaws of her own. She doesn’t seem to: at least, she always seems to be sure of herself, and always on the “high ground” of the issues she raises.