For over 55 years the
“Episcopal Church Welcomes You” sign identified Episcopal churches to people around
the world. These signs became one of the most recognizable symbols of our
denomination. At their inception, the signs were considered an important part
of the Church’s outreach to the world. Regrettably, many of these signs have not
weathered the years well. Many have rusted and faded from years of exposure. Some
are bent. Others lean as their stanchions shifted with the soil beneath. In
seeing these signs, I often ask, “What are these signs saying about our Church?”
St. Luke’s has not used this ubiquitous symbol at its campus for quite some time. Did you know that we DO use them on the major roads leading into the City of Lebanon? When was the last time you noticed one of these? How often do you think others do?
Merriam-Webster offers
one definition of a sign: a display (such as a lettered board or a
configuration of neon tubing) used to identify or advertise a place of business
or a product. As such, “The Episcopal Church welcomes you!” is a sign of
something more than the mere present of a church building or a schedule of
services. The word “welcomes” tells others that in the Episcopal Church, there
are no “strangers” – that all will be considered as “part of us.”
Static metal signs along
the road do not do justice to the dynamic human relationship that underlies the
word “welcome.” Welcoming is a deeply human activity. It speaks of the
willingness of one person to go out of their way for another – even someone
whom they do not know. Perhaps one of the reasons that many churches experience
decline is that their words do not match their actions. The signs may say
“welcome” but upon entering, strangers experience something else.
It is almost never the
case (at least in most churches I have entered), that members intentionally
snubbed me. However, it has frequently been the case that I entered and went
fairly much unnoticed – except maybe for a kind gesture at The Peace. Families
and friends exchanged pleasantries all around me, but I might as well have been
made of cellophane [“Look right through me, walk right ‘round me . . .” goes the
song, “Mr. Cellophane” in the musical Chicago]. I didn’t make a dent in
folks’ awareness. They were unaware of the gifts I possessed and the difference
that I might have made in their community. The sign said, “Welcome.” Their
actions said, “So what?’
Maybe I am belaboring a
point. But I deeply believe it should be a point well taken, especially as we
emerge from our COVID exile. People everywhere hunger to belong – to be valued
– to be welcomed. It is perhaps one of the most important things we can do as a
church community. To be taken in – even while a stranger – can make all the
difference to a stressed-out working mother, to a father worried about the
well-being of his family, to a young adult searching for identity and for
meaning.
As a community, we need
to reflect on all the ways we create real and living “signs” of welcome – not
only by making sure someone is given a kind greeting but also in the ways we
make our physical home accessible to those who might be challenged in some way.
Not only by handing someone a bulletin but also in the way we show them where
the restrooms might be. Not only in offering a beverage and a snack, but also
in the way we arrange our rooms so that people feel safe and comfortable.
These are only a few
considerations. There are so many more. I hope that we, as a community, will enter
deep conversations about how we, as a parish family, can be increasingly
hospitable to “the other” as one way of rising to the challenge to “gather
differently and better.”
