by Olivia Phillips
As a shepherd who has served for many years as an Ordained Senior Pastor in The Wesleyan Church, I understand how messy it can be to navigate the tensions of atmosphere and accommodations in our places of ministry. Brighter lights can help those with visibility needs, but hurt those who are sensitive to the sounds the lights make. Lower volume is better for some hearing conditions, but worse for others. Unaesthetic facilities are displeasing to everyone. Sometimes, we find ourselves wondering if we can realistically create a space that welcomes the 100, and not just the 99.
Subversive hospitality requires us to consider realistically how we welcome others. We must be willing to consider that one of the most hospitable acts we can offer in our worship is our own discomfort.
When Hospitality Means Discomfort
A pastoral colleague was incredibly proud of the hard work their congregation did in renovating their corporate worship space, and invited our local friends to visit. On entering the space, I remember feeling like the sanctuary was so dark it felt that it could swallow a person whole. The pastoral team and building committee shared with us that they had worked hard to create an atmosphere of embrace. This intentionally invitational space was meant to draw a person into conversation with God – a space without visual distraction in an exceedingly distracted world. Black walls and ceilings seamlessly integrated to create a space that would tear the curtain between heaven and earth.
Their pastoral team was on to something – one of our least distracted places in North American culture is our movie theatres. Imagine if we were to capture the intensity of focus that exists in that moment with darkness and volume in a weekly experience of worship. However, this idealized image of time spent in corporate, meaningful worship has become one of our most dangerous fantasies.
In our genuine attempts to black out the noise and the distractions, we may also be guilty of hindering some from experiencing the light of Christ freely. In ministering to increasingly aging populations, we need to make serious considerations about the way that we create an invitation to the throne of God. This fantasy of the corporate worship space offers a sacred experience to some, but exists wholly as a barrier to others.
A Lesson from the Lost Sheep
In Luke 15:1-7, we read the parable of the lost sheep. For many of us, this story is the story of the intentionally wayward creature, or the creature that was too foolish to listen to the will of the shepherd. In my childhood home, this story was immortalized in a book of sheet music with Keith Green on the cover holding a lamb on his shoulders. In my young mind, it became a parable of a little lamb left behind.
What if there is another possibility that we have overlooked beyond the lamb or the lost boy narrative? In the daily life of shepherding, there would be times in which the shepherd would bring their flock through the hill country. What if the one sheep in the parable was not willingly wayward, but simply could not keep up with the demanding terrain of the hill country to make their way to the open pasture?
We are at risk of leaving people behind. We long for aesthetic spaces that feel invitational. We see our designs as a means of connecting with God. Yet, in this great hunt for the already ever-present Divine, we lose the benefits of practicality and the bread of presence.
In the parable of the lost sheep, there is a powerful lesson for us as we consider accessibility as subversive hospitality. The shepherd was aware of his flock and did the work of creating the pathway for the flock. When the pathway itself was a barrier, the shepherd went back and carried the one missing sheep on his shoulders. If this were an adult sheep, the shepherd carried approximately 150 pounds through difficult hill country to join the flock once more.
The truth is that we are so focused on getting people to the open pasture – that moment of experiencing God’s presence – sometimes we lose people in the hill country. By hill country, I do not simply mean they become lost in sin and separation. What I mean to say is that our spaces of worship themselves become the unintended barrier that keeps people from reaching the open pasture in corporate worship.
In preparing the communion elements, do we consider what is physically required of individuals to receive the Eucharist? During COVID, many churches transitioned to the use of pre-filled communion cups – as an attempt to mitigate the concern of shared elements. These cups are often entirely inaccessible to individuals with Parkinson’s, arthritis, etc. In many cases they also eliminate the opportunity for individuals with celiac to participate in communion.
The hill country can be of our own design. We seek so desperately to help the young men and women put away their phones and embrace the presence of Christ. We see cultural spaces like movie theatres and believe that the space is creating the focus – and not the intentional advertising. What we miss in the equation is that theatres have dancing raisins and sassy popcorn commercials which encourage the ostracization of those who do not learn to abide in their spaces. Focus was never a product of the wall colour or lighting. In our quest to be hospitable, we have elevated the space over the message communicated.
Revivals began in spaces where the message was clear – we are here for God’s purpose. Subversive hospitality is the willingness to embrace the shepherd’s level of discomfort to ensure that message is heard, and presence is possible. In the parable, the shepherd led the sheep to pasture, walked back to the missing sheep, and then carried it back to open pasture. Three trips through rough terrain – one with up to 150lbs on his back.
In the pursuit of recreating the mountaintop moments of embrace, we have created a cheap imitation. For seniors and those with differences in abilities, it can be particularly difficult to engage in spaces that were not created with their needs in mind.
Walking the Rocky Path: Accessibility in Practice
We can begin the work of embracing accessibility as subversive hospitality in our reflection on these seven questions:
- Can individuals with mobility/sensory issues enter our spaces confidently, and without assistance?
- Does our space echo or is reverb used in a way that limits the ability of individuals who are hard of hearing from engaging in corporate worship?
- Are our bathroom facilities designed for individuals with mobility/sensory issues in mind?
- Does space already exist in our congregate ministry area for individuals to sit comfortably with their mobility assistance devices?
- Do our ushers know how and when to appropriately offer assistance to individuals?
- Does our church have any assistance devices (earplugs/headphones, canes, walkers, wheelchairs, fidget devices, etc.) on site for individuals to use as needed?
- Are all areas and ministries of our church equally accessible, or are there spaces and programs that are not viable for some church members?
What are we willing to do to help others make their way to open pasture? The posture of our spaces matters a great deal more than the physical atmosphere. Subversive hospitality is our willingness to walk on the rocky edge of the path so that others can make use of a clear pathway.
Rev.
Olivia Phillips is an Ordained Pastor in The Wesleyan Church of Canada, and a doctoral student studying Polarization Practices in the Church at McMaster Divinity. She has pastored in both the US and Canada, serving in both local churches and executive leadership roles within the Wesleyan denomination. Her book, Becoming Community: Meeting in the Intersection of Truth and Love, was published through Wipf & Stock in 2021. She is an advocate for those who are ostracized, and deeply loves ministering to families and individuals journeying through end-of-life care. She is an adjunct professor with Kingswood University for their online Undergraduate and Graduate Programs.