That Awkward Moment

I’m not sure if this is actually happening, or if I’m noticing it so it seems like it’s happening, but I have been in dozens of conversations with religious professionals and lay leadership teams about welcoming, belonging, and membership, and it seems to be in the waters as we actually figure out what our post-lockdown faith communities look and feel like.

And in those conversations, I’ve noticed that by and large we are shifting our best practices in our Sunday morning experiences - before, during, and after the service - particularly around these questions. What does it look and feel like to be welcomed, to belong, to be on what one colleague calls “the journey of belonging”?

The places and people who are thinking about this have made changes (or are working on those changes), and they’re seeing results. Not only do people feel warmly welcomed, they sense the invitation - not just to the community but to a spiritual journey. And this matters, because that journey is too daunting to be made solo, and we need to make space for the questions, the explorations, and the deepening.

In worship, I’m noticing less focus on announcements - thankfully, many congregations have retained the slide show of announcements that was so useful in online worship. I’m noticing more cohesive orders of service, with elements like the offering & offertory1 being thematically woven in. And I’m noticing newcomer welcomes that offer simple instructions and a great deal of grace.

So how come some places haven’t gotten the memo yet?

Why are some of you still insisting that visitors stand up and introduce themselves?

Look. I know - especially in smaller congregations - it’s awfully nice to greet those who come for the first (or second or third) time. We think of it as welcoming, and yes, there is a place for that: when the come in, and during social hour.

That place is not in the worship service.

And here’s why:

First, worship is not a social function like a party or reception. People come because they are seeking something: comfort, solace, answers, calm, human connection. If those initial needs are met (or seem to have the promise of being met), they may come back. And somewhere in those first few visits will likely already know a couple of names and be greeted with a bit of recognition.

Second, even for the most extroverted extrovert (like me) usually feels put on the spot when you ask us to stand and introduce ourselves. We don’t ask the other members to do so, so while you see one new face and maybe can remember their name, they are met with a crowd, which means they are standing out even more. And that can be jarring, especially if you came in to grieve or regain center.

Third, some people can’t stand, and it others someone already feeling like an other in this new space.

Fourth, the only people this portends to help are those who say they will interact with the new folks in social hour. But these same congregations tend to huddle in familiar groups, with newcomers feeling excluded and ignored. It may be easier for you, but it certainly isn’t easier for them.

This just isn’t welcoming. It’s awkward to be singled out at the best of times (see: being greeted by an overly friendly retail clerk), and it’s especially awkward at what could be the worst of times for someone.

It’s an anti-growth strategy. It keeps you small.

And yes, I notice. This is how I know you don’t actually want to grow. This is how I know you want to maintain the status quo. This is how I know you may actually be deciding who does or doesn’t belong based on things that have nothing to do with their wanting to be in a covenantal relationship with you - which is awfully awkward in a faith that asks us to draw the circle of love wide.

There is so much more good you can do to welcome newcomers: offer clear signage, friendly greeters, clear instructions, space for warmth and conversation, and easy paths for further involvement.

And if you really want to meet who’s visiting, be a greeter.