Beyond 'welcome' and 'inclusivity' - A reflection by Andi from Open Table Warrington

A stone crucifix pictured against a blue sky with a rainbow in the background

THIS IS a thought-provoking and challenging reflection by Andi, who has been involved with our second community in Warrington since its early days in 2015.

We hear these words so often in our church life, but what do ‘all welcome’ and ‘inclusive’ actually mean?

It’s something we see outside churches, on noticeboards and especially on all those flyers going around advertising Christmas services. They reassuringly tell us, repeatedly, that ‘all are welcome’. Some churches will proudly call themselves ‘inclusive’.

But actions speak louder than even the most well-intentioned of words, and there is a divide between the idealised and aspirational sense of inclusion being advertised, and the reality of church life.

For example, a sign outside a Scottish evangelical church I know well proclaims ‘Everyone welcome!’ to passers-by. A representative of the same church recently contributed something to a local newspaper insisting that there were ‘too many “think-so” Christians’ who can be identified by their ‘liberal theology’ and ‘tolerance of the gay lobby’. This individual is in fact a regular contributor to this publication, and his frequent letters generally say much the same thing: that people are indeed welcome in his church, on the condition they are a particular kind of Christian. I imagine anyone else would be ‘welcome’ to attend (how welcome, I cannot be sure) but it is clear that they would not be welcomed into the full life of the church. This is true for pretty much all churches.

Welcoming people entering the building is not the same as welcoming them into the church.

What happens next is absolutely key, and for those of us whose churches work on a membership model (such as the United Reformed Church which hosts Open Table Warrington) there are real challenges to authentic inclusion. The membership model creates a distinction between those who are ‘in’ and those who are ‘out’. What opportunities are there for non-members to be active in church life? What statements do individuals have to make to be accepted into membership? What do we require of people in order for them to be welcomed to play as full a role as possible?

It’s also a challenge for those of us who are seeking to create ‘safe spaces’ in our churches for particular groups. Can we say with any kind of honesty that all are genuinely welcome, even those who pose a threat to the safety of the spaces we are creating? What does ‘all welcome’ mean in this context?

Carlos A Rodriguez, founder of the Happy Givers charity in the USA, once said:

‘As soon as you draw a line to exclude people, Jesus goes to the other side of that line with them, and invites you to join him there. Every time.’

This was reflected in the recent Christmas message from the outgoing Bishop of Liverpool, Paul Bayes, who said:

‘I am more and more convinced that if we draw a line that includes us and excludes many others, then Jesus Christ is always on the other side of the line, among the people outside. I want to be there with Him. I have become unashamedly inclusive, for Christ’s sake.’

That’s a thought-provoking idea, not least as everyone excludes to some degree. Not turning anyone away from a church service - or the communion table - is not the same as actively including everyone. What does it mean to be authentically inclusive? What exactly is an ‘unashamedly inclusive’ approach? And does Jesus always side with those who are excluded?

I know what Bishop Paul and Carlos Rodriquez are saying, and they’re absolutely correct that no-one is excluded from the gospel of Jesus. But most Christians, aside perhaps from ultra-Calvinists, would say exactly the same. A message amounting to ‘the gospel is available to all, but they have to become like us in order to receive it’ is widely preached; the only difference between most denominations is a question of degree. Surely inclusion means something greater than an acknowledgement that everyone can become like us?

I love the idea of inclusion, but I am very suspicious of interpretations of it and especially the notion that Jesus is always on the side of the excluded. The very suggestion that Jesus Himself would intentionally side with anyone who has been excluded from a certain group does not sit comfortably with me, as I’ll explain in a moment.

‘Jesus shared the communion meal with Judas’, the argument goes. Ah yes, indeed He did. But don’t build a theology on that, because He also threw people out of the temple. When He asked the priests for a denarius, He was not making a point about taxation obligations, but showing the Temple authorities to be collaborators with the Roman Empire rather than servants of God’s people. In Luke 10 Jesus essentially condemns the three cities of Chorazin, Capernaum and Bethsaida to Hell, saying that even Sodom’s judgement will be more tolerable. In Matthew 7, Jesus tells his listeners that many who identify as His followers will be excluded from the kingdom of Heaven. In Mark 10, Jesus meets the rich young ruler, who is dismayed because he is essentially told he will be excluded from the kingdom of God unless he gives away his material wealth. In Revelation 2, Jesus is presented as criticising the church at Thyatira for not excluding Jezebel. Elsewhere Jesus refers to various religious people of His day as ‘hypocrites’, ‘wolves’, ‘false prophets’, ‘blind guides’, ‘Satan’, ‘serpents’, ‘a brood of vipers’, ‘pigs’, ‘thieves’ and ‘an adulterous generation’. In the 21st century, this would hardly be considered appropriate language for the pulpit, let alone as the language of inclusion.

Any reading of the gospels (especially Mark) will confirm that Jesus had very clear ideas about what the kingdom of God is like, and who it was for. He was not, to use a phrase from St Paul, trying to be ‘all things to all people’ but was reaching out to those failed and marginalised by the religious and secular domination systems of his time. These are the people he was seeking to include.

We see examples of exclusion in the Biblical accounts of the early church. 1 Corinthians 5 makes clear that Paul advocates putting a man ‘out of fellowship’ for his sexual sins. In Acts 5, Ananias and Sapphira are not only excluded from the fellowship, but are killed as punishment for withholding money. To put it mildly, they didn’t fit into that particular community because their values were different. In 2 Thessalonians 3:14 Paul states that ‘iif anyone does not obey our instruction in this letter, take special note of that person and do not associate with him, so that he will be put to shame’. This is hardly an inclusive order.

Yes, I fully understand there are several themes being explored in these narratives. However, it is quite clear that the early church was very much an exclusive club (in terms of belief and practices, at least) and that being disfellowshipped was a real possibility if believers failed to conduct themselves as their leaders expected.

What we do know about Jesus from the gospel narratives is that he sided with the marginalised and the oppressed. That’s not quite the same thing as siding with the excluded. Perhaps instead of calling ourselves ‘inclusive churches’ we could instead rebrand ourselves as ‘churches who stand up for people who are marginalised and oppressed’? Or, perhaps, in today’s parlance, ‘churches for social justice’?

Yes, I want to see many groups more fully included in church life. I want to see churches including LGBT+ people after centuries of dehumanising them. I want to see more efforts to include neurodiverse and disabled people in church life. I want to see our churches filled with socially, culturally and racially diverse congregations. I want to see churches that understand how to adapt to others’ priorities, and learn to listen to people whose experiences are different to theirs. But would that necessarily be an ‘inclusive church’? And would everyone always be ‘welcome’?

Here’s a thought from the personal perspective of a supporter of the Open Table Network: how do we include those who are openly and actively hostile to inclusion within our inclusive services? How do we include transphobes and homophobes who authentically believe God shares their views? How do we include those who have abused members of our congregation to the point of receiving criminal convictions (and an injunction not to contact their victims or enter a defined space around their house)? Are we really saying the church needs to welcome all, even if someone’s presence may (and probably will) cause harm to another within it?

These are not hypothetical situations. Without going into all the details, it’s very difficult as an LGBT person in a supposedly ‘inclusive’ church to be told that the views of people who believe my orientation makes me inherently sinful are as theologically valid as my own and we just have to ‘agree to disagree’. That’s a plurality of voices - but it’s not being authentically inclusive. In fact, it’s institutionally homophobic, because the structures and policies of the church allow homophobia to be freely expressed.

It’s all good and well within the context of pastoral interactions to seek to manage difficult and sensitive situations. But that’s not always the case. It’s not always a simple black and white question of ‘denying’ or ‘excluding’ people, as if church attendance is a legal right that trumps all others, but of how we create authentically safe spaces for people to grow.

Of course even the most ‘inclusive’ churches exclude - the very existence of the membership model confirms this. I don’t know too many churches who would accept atheists or professed followers of other faiths as members. All communities have, somewhere, an identity that requires some are ‘in’ while others are ‘out’. ‘We welcome all’ is generally little more than a well-intentioned theoretical attitude. How do we deal with racism, homophobia, transphobia and sexism in our churches? Ironically, any serious attempt to tackle them is inevitably going to have the effect of excluding some people, or at least making them feel excluded. Would anyone seriously suggest that Jesus would side with J.K. Rowling if she was politely asked not to enter a Transgender Day of Remembrance service, or with someone asked not to attend church for safeguarding reasons, as if anything goes in the name of inclusion and welcome?

Is it exclusion? Or is it good pastoral care?

Inclusion and welcome must go beyond simply attending church worship or partaking of communion. Authentic inclusion must go beyond that into all areas of church life, but it rarely does. The absolutely vital point is that it always has to be balanced with ‘harm principles’ - quite honestly, we are ‘our brother’s keepers’ and the well-being of our congregation should matter to us sufficiently that we’re prepared to safeguard them from those who would do them harm.

There is a tendency to imagine that inclusive churches are those that are all things to all people, where theological difference matters not and we are all ‘one in Christ’. However, there is a very obvious problem, in that there are Christians, often within such churches, who at the very least view certain types of people with suspicion (e.g. LGBT+ people and female clergy) and at times actively deny that they should be part of the church. What happens to an ‘inclusive’ church when it welcomes those with ‘exclusive’ approaches to faith?

Being open to all theologies, however destructive, is not inclusivity in action. This may create a ‘salad bowl’ of people with competing and often conflicting views, but it is hardly inclusive to allow exclusive views to be expressed. It is not, for example, inclusive to allow a representative at a synod meeting to make a racist contribution from the lectern (as I once experienced); on the contrary, it is evidence of institutional discrimination. Allowing everyone to express themselves irrespective of the harm it does to others is not an inclusive approach.

When people hear the term ‘institutionally’ before words such as ‘racist’, ‘homophobic’ and ‘sexist’, it usually evokes a strong response - often one of denial. This is understandable, but it betrays a lack of understanding of what is meant by the term ‘institutional’. Institutional discrimination is often unintentional, and simply means that the structures, policies and practices of an organisation allow for discrimination to take place. Sadly, it is the inevitable product of the kind of ‘inclusion’ that makes no distinction in respect to values.

Why do we constantly seek false unity with those who demean and exclude, in the name of inclusion, when we could be seeking new, alternative relationships?

The inescapable fact is that all communities, both religious and secular, are built on shared values. The values of Progressive Christians may well have far more in common with progressive humanists and secularists than they do more conservative expressions of Christianity. Those who don’t share the values of a community will, inevitably, feel excluded. That is neither a healthy nor unhealthy state of affairs - it’s basic reality. Communities that share particular values will not necessarily want to ‘include’ people whose values are diametrically opposed to theirs - and neither should they. They may also find it difficult to ‘welcome’ individuals or groups who are determined to do them harm. What should an ‘inclusive’ church be inclusive of? Should it be tolerant of intolerance?

I’m not sure I subscribe to the ‘never exclude’ version of inclusion. Perhaps inclusion itself is an unhelpful term, used as it is mainly to demonstrate that our communities welcome and include those traditionally marginalised. I want to build more than an ‘inclusive’ church, or one that declares itself as ‘welcoming’ without really understanding what that means. I want to be part of a church that extends hospitality to those who are outside of our communities. I want to be part of a church that reaches out to the victims of social injustice and religious prejudice. I also want to be part of a church that has a distinct set of values - call them ‘inclusive’ or ‘progressive’ if you like - that will naturally attract some and repel others. But I do not want to be part of a church that includes or welcomes perspectives that demean, marginalise and damage.

The bottom line is that inclusivity is not compatible with exclusivity.

The two cannot co-exist, not even on the logic that we are all ‘one in Christ’. It is not, therefore, possible for something that is inclusive to welcome views or values that are exclusive; the irony, of course, is that to be inclusive in the way most intend it requires the exclusion of non-inclusive behaviour. The term therefore becomes meaningless.

The church is nothing if not a spiritual community, and all communities must define themselves by what they are… and also what they are not.

To be inclusive of all ideas and philosophies is nihilistic and actually means you stand for nothing - and against nothing. I would not wish to be part of such a community. I am not advocating cutting ecumenical ties with those who think differently, but I am suggesting that individual denominations and indeed local churches need to define themselves by core values, and by differentiating themselves from others’ values.

The ’we’re all Christians’ line, often used to suggest we have more in common than divides us, is basically offensive when some Christians diminish and dehumanise others or question their very status as ‘real’ Christians. The progressive Christianity I believe in will never find much relevance so long as it sits quietly and complacently by, hoping the same conservative Christians who consider us to be heretics will eventually become more tolerant. So many people alienated by churches will not come back to church if they have to sit next to hate-mongers in the pews.

I want to help build a community of forgiveness and reconciliation, but that can only happen if all within that community share a vision, are willing to forgive, and treat each other as equals. I no longer have any appetite to retain membership of a church whose leaders tell me must include people who believe my orientation makes me unsuitable to be an active member.

Comparisons and romanticised aspirations are often made, disingenuously, with the early church. As we have seen, neither Jesus nor the Gentile churches planted by St Paul would be considered ‘inclusive’ in the purest sense of the word. Both used language that was far from ‘welcoming’. But what both certainly did was make a radical stand and ditch religious expressions that were unjust, caused harm, dehumanised and marginalised. I won’t use the same language that Jesus did, but I hope I share His sentiments. There is little to be gained in being nice or accepting towards religious perspectives that cause us (and others) harm. Jesus didn’t stand for it, and neither should we.

I think we need to look beyond ‘inclusion’ (an intellectually problematic term) and ‘welcoming’ (which doesn’t go far enough) and become a radical movement that challenges the status quo, accepts and affirms people who are different, goes the ‘extra mile’, shows its love for those who are hurting, values diversity, and has a vision for serving humanity. If we were able to do that, rather than being pre-occupied by arguments with the conservatives among us, more people from our local communities may begin poking their heads into church once in a while. I don’t object to churches trying to be inclusive, but I think there is a calling to something beyond that.

If we’re seeking to be inclusive, what are we seeking to be inclusive of? Who are we seeking to be inclusive for?

Yes, the radical, loving church I have a vision for will have an understanding of God that has room for those whose understanding of God has no room for me. It will not deny such people are children of God. It will not diminish their own spirituality. But it will have a responsibility to safeguard its community from harmful values and destructive intentions. The question is whether that is excluding, or simply protecting?

I know whose side Jesus is on, and it’s not a question of arbitrary lines but justice. It’s right there in the gospels.

Originally published at: honesttogodweb.wordpress.com. Republished with permission.