Words from one of our blog writers define unbelonging as times when one feels left out, judged, or totally different. My story may illustrate how that works.
My first pastorate was during the heights of civil rights unrest in the early 1960s. After I participated in the March on Washington, I wrote a long report for the congregation and thought it was well received. I was wrong.
Some members and I promoted collegiality with a nearby congregation of black Christians. We invited their choir to sing at our Wednesday evening Lenten service. The next day at our own choir rehearsal, one choir member loudly declared she could no longer sit in the same choir loft where “those” people had sung.
Crudely worded messages were slipped under the church door threatening mayhem against the pastor and the congregation if persons of color ever visited the church again.
About the same time, I asked permission to add to our newspaper announcement about worship times that all were welcome at our church.
At an open meeting of the congregation, it was declared that anyone who wants to come to our church may do so. We don’t have to “advertise” it. Later remarks complained that I always talked about race in sermons. A review of a year’s worth of sermons found only seven comments that could be construed as “about race.”
After the March on Washington, I participated in a demonstration in our city, and later two members accompanied me for a march on the state capitol.
Eighteen days after the March on Washington, Ku Klux Klan members bombed the 16th St. Baptist Church in Birmingham, killing four Sunday School girls and injuring many others. At a vigil held in a packed auditorium, I was asked to lead prayers.
Unbelonging Part One
Most of my church members who supported these efforts were very quiet. Those who opposed such activities were loudly vocal. I was unbelonging.
The next pastoral call was to serve as senior pastor of a 1000-member congregation in a college town. That was quite a surprise since I was a mere 30-year-old with lots to learn. The work went well for a while. Until the Kent State shootings happened.
In 1970, National Guard soldiers sought to quell student demonstrations against the war in Vietnam. They killed four university students and wounded nine others. In colleges across the country student protests erupted.
Students in our town held a prayer protest, too. I skipped a church council meeting in order to sit with the students who might want to talk about the war and the murders. Missing the council meeting did not sit well with some.
Unbelonging Part Two
All previous pastors of the congregation held either earned or honorary doctorates. Perhaps it was their pride in such pastoral prestige which contributed to a grudging acceptance of efforts by this young upstart to loosen up and energize the worship and administrative structure. After seven years, unbelonging had set in.
Next stop. Previously, no 37-year-old had become the CEO of a residential care facility for troubled youth. The last CEO had been fired for mis-treating residents and staff. All financial reserves were exhausted in the first three years. A large segment of the staff who supervised residents were non-religious conscientious objectors. In order to escape military draft, they had to serve in a non-profit setting. Their attitudes about authority merely encouraged already unruly residents to escalate their behavior.
In frustration, I tearfully told the board president I had no idea what to do, and that for the welfare of the agency I felt I should leave.
But we managed to “turn the corner.” I stayed another fifteen years. When I resigned it was because I did not want to end my ministry in an institution rather than in a parish setting. By then we had a sought-after program, a major new building fully paid for without having to borrow funds, and a staff no longer riddled by rapid turn overs. I began to feel like I belonged. But it was time to make way for fresh ideas and leadership.
Getting to that next stop in ministry, however, was a challenge. I applied for many congregational and judicatory positions. Most of them decided that someone who had been away from parish ministry for almost two decades could not possibly understand what it would take to deal with congregational life. They would not interview me.
So it was surprising that after several months, there was a phone call from one of those congregations who had turned me down, requesting that I come for an interview. Shortly thereafter, I was called to be senior pastor of another large-membership congregation.
Side note: In those days such congregations were described as “tall steeple churches.” This one had a very tall steeple--with a crooked cross on top!
That congregation had been led for 40 years by a beloved pastor. Following his death, there were three short-term pastorates which we dubbed as “unintentional interims.”
Those years were complicated by the dominant presence of the widow and her family, and their families. The shadow of the beloved pastor, including the smell of his cigars, permeated the life of the congregation.
Major mistakes in judgment interfered with a full acceptance of my leadership. One was to promote additional features to a Christmas ritual without taking away any of the traditional elements. Another was to place the hymn “The Palms” somewhere other than as the processional hymn on Palm Sunday morning.
Unbelonging Part Three
In spite of numerous well received new programs in the life of the congregation, the ultimate error, it turned out, involved hiring a custodian. I advocated an effort to assist him in his rehabilitation as a recovering drug addict.
The first weeks of his employment went well. But we discovered well-meaning parishioners lent him money not realizing he was using it to purchase drugs. His work and life spiraled out of control again.
When the church van disappeared along with the custodian, blame was laid at the pastor’s doorstep, some members lost confidence in the pastor’s leadership, and unbelonging took over--again.
One more story. While serving part time in a rural congregation, I made cautionary remarks against believing everything said by a noted arch conservative radio host.
One of our farmer members loudly stomped out of the sanctuary in the middle of the sermon that Sunday. I learned he listened to that radio personality daily while driving his tractor.
Later he and I talked privately and we both apologized. But his popularity and outburst triggered undercurrents of discontent. The situation highlighted the sometimes-fragile relationship between acceptance and unacceptance, especially as supporters kept quiet and complainers did not.
Then one Sunday, as I hung up my clergy robe after church, I received a phone call literally begging me to come back to an agency I had once served to help resolve a significant issue. I discussed it with the church council, and there seemed to be some relief that I might leave, except for concern about our unfinished confirmation classes.
I offered to return for an intensive weekend retreat with confirmands. After the Confirmation Service, the disgruntled farmer whose teenager was part of the class, greeted me with a monstrous hug and vigorous handshake.
I thought of it as an example of the teeter-totter on which belonging and unbelonging ride!
Belonging and Self-Worth and Identity
James Greenaway, author of A Philosophy of Belonging, says that belonging is one of the most meaningful experiences of anyone’s life. Inversely, the discovery that one does not belong can be most upsetting. Belonging and unbelonging, he writes, raises intense questions about an individual’s sense of self-worth and identity.
In his writing, he offers the two themes: “Presence” and “Communion.”
In the Church we have a significant understanding of comm-union. There is sacredness in being present with one another, even--perhaps especially--in times of stress and disagreement.
As persons of faith, that is our work--to promote comm-union and inclusion, so no one is unbelonged. Amen!
For Reflection (either individually or with a group)
Read the blog. Read it a second time, maybe reading it aloud or asking someone else to read it aloud so you can hear it with different intonation and emphases. Invite the Divine to open your heart to allow the light of new understanding to pierce the shadows of embedded assumptions, stereotypes, and ways of thinking so that you may live more abundantly.
Download a pdf including the Reflection Questions to share and discuss with friends, family, or members of your faith community small group.