On Sunday, I was sitting near the sign language section during the morning worship service at my church, and because I know a couple of the interpreters, I realized something was going on. They were talking in hushed tones among themselves, pointing and occasionally signing as the volume in the sanctuary got louder.
When they came near my seat, I asked what was troubling them.
“There are deaf people coming to this service, and the seats are all taken,” one of them explained. When I looked over at the section normally reserved for the hearing impaired, sure enough. Lots of hearing people were sitting there.
When I considered whether we could simply ask the people mistakenly sitting in the deaf section if they could move, I looked around. Another packed house. If they left the seats they were sitting in, they wouldn’t find others. And to be fair to them, the seat covers that normally reserved the area were missing in action. For all they knew, the deaf people were sitting somewhere else now.
I even thought of giving up my own seat, but it was in the wrong spot for seeing the interpreter, plus I needed the seat I was in because of its proximity to the stage. I would be making a small presentation during each service and needed to have a direct path to the stairs.
As I was considering whether the deaf people coming to the service that morning would feel neglected or uncared for, I remembered the gluten-free communion bread in Hannah Faith Notess’s essay “A Blessing for the Rice Cracker.” In this essay, part of The Spirit of Food collection, Notess recounts her brother’s celiac disease which makes his body reject taking the Lord’s supper, to the point of rashes and a constricted throat. And yet, against better judgment, Ben would remain in line for the wheat bread, dipping it in the juice, even if an alternative were offered.
When I asked Ben why he used to avoid the rice cracker at Communion, he said he felt uncomfortable stepping out of line. Even though the church was doing its best to be inclusive, it didn’t seem to fit the ritual, and he didn’t want to feel different. Notess writes.
I hadn’t realized before that our accommodations, our best attempts at making people feel welcome, are often alienating, isolating. A special section for wheelchairs, a service in Spanish, a Sunday School class for single people. While these gestures might say we love handicapped and Spanish speaking and single people, it also says the rest of us are not handicapped or Spanish speaking or single.
Of course the answer is not to go the other way, to tell people they need to speak our language or get up and walk or find a suitable mate before they can be part of the body of Christ. It’s offensive even to imagine that sort of attitude among God’s people. Though, sadly, that has been the experience of too many people who try to find their place on a Sunday morning.
Maybe the solution lies somewhere in the middle, in something we all can share in together. Like maybe a meal.
What if churches just served rice crackers to everybody? I asked Ben if he thought that would be a good idea, and he said he did: ‘There’s nowhere in the Bible that says “This needs to be made from wheat flour, thus saith the Lord.”‘ Those rice crackers may taste like Styrofoam packing peanuts, but I’d consider that Styrofoam taste a blessing if it meant I could share Communion with my brother, Notess concluded.
I learned after the service on Sunday that everyone found a seat where they could hear, or see, the sermon. One family sat in two groupings, another lady moved to my seat when I went on stage, and the interpreters were able to preach with their hands what the pastor spoke with his voice.
We were all members of one Body, worshiping in one Spirit, by the one faith in the one Lord, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all.
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I am writing today in community with my friends at thehighcalling.org. We are working our way through the book, The Spirit of Food: 34 Writers on Feasting and Fasting Toward God, edited by Leslie Leyland Fields. This week, we considered essays 28-30, in a section called “At the Table of the Lord.” Click on the button above to see what others are writing. Then, pick up the book yourself and join us for next Monday’s discussion.
Photo by WaveCult (luis.m.justino), used with permission under the Creative Commons License.
Amy — I know what you mean. At our church, seats are a hot commodity. I often overlook people so I can make sure I get a seat. Something seems wrong with that.
LL — I think you’ve hit the nail on the head. This meal, and how we wait on others, seems central to the unity Jesus calls us to.
I forwarded your email to my friend just a couple of days ago, so he may yet contact you directly!
Michelle — Ultimately, love for others should guide us in making others feel welcome, even if we are slightly misguided. But I think observing and listening will help us understand how our efforts are landing on others.
It is great to be part of your Monday group!
“Our best attempts at making people feel welcome, are often alienating, isolating.”
Thanks for making me rethink how I interact with people at church. So often I’m rushing in late and focused on my own stuff. I’m sure my preoccupation with myself isn’t welcoming.
Your idea reminds me a bit of Paul’s admonition for the believers to wait for one another and not eat up all the food before others got there. Somehow it seems a bit the same.
(Tell your friend to definitely look me up at Encounter this weekend! 🙂
You know, I never really thought about the fact that our attempts at inclusion could also be more alienating in the end. You’ve give a lot for me to think about here, Charity. And I like your spin on the “see it, use it” for the link-up — so glad you came by!
TCSOKO — Even as I was writing this post I was thinking about all the aspects of life we use to include/exclude people. The examples you give are spot on. We also do this by, which I think robs us all of a richer experience as part of Christ’s body.
Glynn — I think you are so right about the oneness. I remember an image from the Psalms that I will never forget that expresses this: it’s like oil running down Aaron’s beard when brothers live together in harmony, or something like that.
Laura —
I think you are right in valuing the conversation. For instance, even though my best friend and her son now have to eat gluten free, it never dawned on me that the communion bread might be dangerous. There must be many approaches, many ideas that others have tried to the success of welcoming others.
I appreciate you and your great posts on this book over at The High Calling.
Ann — I reread my comment from earlier and it sounded so wishy washy and hesitant. Not what I meant!
What I meant to say was “How wonderful to be in a church that will experiment with new ideas, new programs, all to try to make people feel more included.”
There, I think that says it better. Sorry if I sounded weird!
Great post – I often feel the same about division between cultures/ languages and age groups – our life is richer for the diversity.
More than anything else — the music, the worship style,, all of it — more than anything else, what God mosts desires in his church is oneness in him. To give up a seat, to accept non-gluten instead of “regular” bread, to sing and sign together — that, I think, is what’s pleasing to him. Good post, Charity.
This is very insightful thinking, Charity. Sometimes, by trying to help, do we isolate those who are different even further? I like the conversation. I like that Ann’s church is talking about trying different things. Only when we talk can we begin to find the solution. What works for one may not work for another. Finding unity is often difficult in a homogeous population, let alone these specific considerations.
Ann — I guess I am encouraged to see that your church is attempting unity and inclusion even if it takes trying new things. I think it’s important to strive for oneness, even though our world and our lives are broken. I want to do better at this myself.
I love how you expanded this out past communion and thought about all the ways we accommodate perhaps to the point of alienating or singling people out. Church is one place where we want to enjoy how we are worshiping together, Jew and Gentile, men and women, hearing and hearing impaired, celiac and gluten-digesting…okay, I’m stopping now, because it’s starting to sound silly and I don’t intend for it to.
Our church served gluten-free bread for communion as an option for a while. Then we switched so that everyone was eating gluten-free, just as the author discussed with her brother.
After about four times, the pastor announced that we were returning to bread with gluten and a smaller basket of gluten-free bread offered for our brothers and sisters who can’t process gluten.
We’ve come full circle. We almost got the unity thing going.
But we also offer both grape juice and wine, so I guess we’re a church of options.