Who Belongs?

FROM THE RECTOR

Every time we have a Baptism rehearsal, I tell the families of the candidates that their children belong in church. I say that, even if their child becomes squirmy or fussy or full-on screamy, they need to know that their place is right among the rest of us, the Body of Christ. I let them know that, if they want to get up during the service and wander around, walking up and down the aisles to help their child resettle into the moment, they may. And I tell them that, if they cannot bear it any longer for their own sake, they are welcome to walk out to the narthex or guild hall or outside on the front sidewalk but only for their own relief and not because they think the rest of us need them to.

I give those instructions in such repetitive detail because I doubt that most parents believe me. A screaming baby in church? Right in the middle of the sermon? So loud that no one can hear what is being said? Absolutely. A baptism is an opportunity to see in action what we believe all of the time—that all people, regardless of age or decorum, are members of Christ’s body not by virtue of their ability to recite the creeds or contemplate the holy mysteries or even sit through church quietly but because in the waters of Baptism they have been united to Christ with an inseparable bond. Nothing reminds us of that truth more fully than all of us being together in church.

That does not make it easy. I have a hard time preaching without losing my rhythm when babies are crying in the pews. I bet you have a hard time listening, too. But children are not the only members of the Body of Christ who make it hard to focus during worship. Sometimes oxygen machines beep repeatedly because a tube is kinked. Sometimes cell phones go off at the most inopportune time. Sometimes choir members drop their folders right as the preacher is getting to the heart of a sermon. Sometimes hearing-aids squeal all the way through the service.

Sometimes people come in off the street in worn-out clothes. Sometimes the person sitting in the pew behind us does not have access to running water or hygiene products and brings with them a strong and off-putting odor. Sometimes a person with neurological atypicalities expresses themselves in ways unfamiliar to the rest of us. Sometimes a person with a physical disability arrives late and has a hard time slipping into church unnoticed. Would any of us say that those differences should exclude someone from the Body of Christ? Would any of us say that they do not belong?

Last Saturday, after the Baptism rehearsal, I took part in a Communion workshop for children and parents. We were learning about the Eucharist in order that all of us might find our experience of worship enriched. When I asked the group how being in church made them feel, I heard a range of answers, including peaceful, joyful, and connected, but one child admitted that occasionally he felt mad in church. When I asked him why, he replied that church was the place “with the highest expectations” and that his parents often got onto him about his behavior. His words struck me with a massive blow of self-consciousness. How often have I said those exact words to my children? And why?

I want my children to learn that, when we come to church, we come to meet God and to encounter Christ not only in the Word that is proclaimed and the Sacrament that is shared but also in the Body that has assembled. Because we are members of that Body, we are called to participate in worship in ways that are authentic to ourselves but also reflective of the needs of those around us. There is a big difference between a ten-month-old who cries out and a ten-year-old who screams at his sibling. It is good for parents to teach their children to bring their best to church, but we must avoid at all costs inadvertently teaching them that only good, quiet, reverent, obedient people belong in church. Although I frequently encourage other families to trust that they should feel comfortable in worship no matter what, I have missed the mark on that with my own family too often. This past weekend put that in sharp relief.

At the 11:00 a.m. service, the older sister of one of the baptismal candidates enthusiastically answered all of the questions in the Baptismal Covenant but did so a moment or two after everyone else in the congregation. Each time, after we had finished speaking, the entire assembly waited until she had said, “I will with God’s help.” Her voice, with its distinctive childish enunciation and cadence, was the clearest reminder that all of us belong in church—that the Body of Christ cannot be the enfleshed Word of God unless all of the members are honored fully.

If we believe what we say we believe—that we belong to God not because of who we are or what we have done but because of who Christ is and what Christ has done—can we ever insist that church would be better if someone did not show up? If someone took their disruption outside? If someone stayed in the nursery and let the rest of us worship without them? That sort of approach to the Body of Christ changes the way we experience church. It makes it harder to focus on the words that are said and the silences that are held. But it also broadens our understanding of what it means for us to belong in church, and it deepens our experience of being united to God and each other through Christ. No one said that it would be easy, but I promise you that it is worth it.


Yours Faithfully,

Evan D. Garner

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