Vulnerability

FROM THE RECTOR

Two Fridays ago, someone smashed the back window on one of the church vans. That night, a parishioner was driving past the church and saw someone pulling all of the food out of the Little Free Pantry and the Friendly Fridge and throwing it into the parking lot. This person was angry about something and decided to take it out on our church. That parishioner called the police, but, by the time they arrived, the man had moved on. The next morning, we discovered that, during the tirade, the van window had been smashed, and, because the issue had not been resolved, we asked the police to help us keep an eye out for trouble.

The following morning, as we were going through our Sunday routines, we discovered that in a subsequent incident another window on the building had been smashed in and that an obscene message had been scratched into the glass of the Welcome Center door. Later that we, we learned that a parishioner’s car in the parking lot had also been defaced with hateful symbols and words. This time we had a video tape of the damage to the Welcome Center, and we were able to share that image with the staff to help keep us safe and the Fayetteville Police Department to help them protect our buildings.

Seeing hateful things etched into those windows stung me a little bit. Mostly, I was frustrated at the inconvenience of it all, but a part of me also felt violated. Thankfully, no one was threatened or hurt, and the damage is minor and easily reparable, but the idea that someone would attack our church buildings left me deeply unsettled. Several of you probably saw the damage and felt the same way. A few people have even expressed to me how upset they are that someone would do that to our church. Again, the vandalism is relatively minor, but this incident strikes at the heart of who we are. St. Paul’s is a church that believes that all people are welcome, and we practice that as fully as we can, but being open and available and welcoming is a lot harder when we are worried that someone is going to damage our building.

Should we install more surveillance cameras? Should we hire a security guard? Should we continue to reach out to the police and encourage them to approach and possibly arrest anyone who is loitering on the property after hours? Should we keep all of the doors locked during the day and require everyone to be buzzed into the building? I don’t think so. The safety of everyone who comes to St. Paul’s—staff, parishioners, visitors, and guests—is of paramount importance, and, if we thought that an individual might threaten our safety, we would take those steps. But, as long as physical harm is not an issue, I think a little vulnerability on our part is important even though it is hard, and I have already learned some things because of it.

Over time, I have become acquainted with some of the people who tend to hang around our church outside of office hours. Many of them are guests at Community Meals. Most of them lack adequate shelter. Almost all of them are kind, polite, and willing to help out if asked. After the incident on that Friday night, when the police were asked to drive by the church more regularly, I wanted to let those friends know that they may need to take care of themselves in ways that prevent them from being confronted by the police unnecessarily. Before anyone had seen the video tape, they told me that they knew who it was and that they were upset about it, too. They expressed disappointment that anyone would vandalize a church, and they acknowledged that they appreciate being welcomed here and were worried that this might interfere with that welcome.

There is a significant community of people for whom St. Paul’s is not only a place to be welcomed but a symbol of the value of true welcome. Even though they may never show up on a Sunday morning, and even though we likely have no record of them in the church database, they speak of our church as if it were their own because it is their own. They want to help keep our buildings and our people safe because they care about us just as we care about them. That kind of relationship—that kind of love—is not possible if our church were not committed to the sort of vulnerability that always comes with radical welcome. 

Jesus sent his disciples out into the world wildly under-resourced—with no change of clothes, no money, no bag, and no plan other than to offer their peace to each home and trust that their peace would be shared by any who would receive them. They were sent as a scout team to help get towns and villages ready for a visit by Jesus, and, by sending them out with almost nothing, Jesus made sure that the relationships they made with whoever took them in would be opportunities for mutuality. Instead of making sure that they had whatever they needed to take care of themselves, Jesus send them out in a state of dependency because he knew that vulnerability invites real relationship.

I trust that we will fix our windows and move on without much interruption. I trust that this angry person, who may be suffering from an illness, will need the sort of intervention that St. Paul’s cannot provide. I do not know his name, but I pray for him, and I hope you will, too. I give thanks to God for him, and I pray that he will find healing, peace, and happiness. I have remorse that we are not able to help him, and I pray that he will find someone who can. I am also thankful to be a part of a church that wants to have meaningful relationships with all sorts of people and that is willing to endure some disappointments, frustrations, and setbacks in order to maintain a spirit of welcome. It is not easy being vulnerable, but good things happen when we are.

Yours Faithfully,

Evan D. Garner