We are not alone; we live in God's world

It's been several months now that I've committed myself to a church. Of course Harmony is still my Mennonite house church, but since last October, I've been going to a Sunday morning, pastor/preacher, amen, pews, pulpit, communion church. It's time I should share about this Hobson United Methodist.

The web site <http://www.hobsonumc.org/> has some fascinating historical details: founded by an affluent white man; segregated; almost closed after the white flight from East Nashville in the 1960s; revitalized by new leadership. But what's more important for now is my experience. I'll start with these words from Garlinda, which describe Hobson on our relatively new facebook group:

Funky, cutting edge, small, casual, interracial, inter-class, gay positive congregation in Nashville, Tenn. More than half of members/regular worshipers are homeless. We're struggling with what it means to bring a broad cross-section of people together in a Southern Christian community by confronting and loving beyond racism, sexism, classism, heterosexism, experience and socio-economic circumstances.

Here's one thing I like about this church: "we're struggling." From my first conversation with Pastor Sonnye Dixon, these present participles (I had to look that up) have described Hobson. A present participle is active, so when they say they are a "reconciling" congregation (the United Methodist version of inclusive of gays and lesbians), the word implies process. No, we have not eradicated the homophobia in our pews, but gay and straight people sit together every Sunday. In the same way, no we have not overcome our classist and racist realities, but poor and not-so-poor sit together with black and white mixed in.

I did understand this struggling - not in the experiential sense anyway - until I came to the South. I think part of it was for lack of opportunity: the midwestern communities I lived in were simply more homogeneous. But also, for one reason or another, I've been challenged into seeing what is all around me with new eyes. For instance,this past Friday Sonnye, Garlinda, Jamie and I went to a lecture on Gender, Sexuality, and the HIV/AIDS crisis. Sonnye had invited us, and the event was held at one of the few black churches in the area that are progressive on issues of sexuality. It was a fantastic lecture: unmasking the power structures (sexism, heterosexism, homophobia, patriarchy, traditional Christian biblical interpretations) that have enabled the exponential spread of HIV/AIDS in African-American communities. Equally important for my own learning was the fact that Jamie and I were the only white people in the room. This new thing is part of the difference Hobson makes in my life.

Another new thing is that elusive notion, radical hospitality. It seems like it's a new theological fad in some of my circles of communication, and I myself like the concept, but could I practice that? Part of my problem is probably that I've been trying to start with the concept itself: yes I value hospitality; yes I want to welcome the homeless, poor, stranger, gay, etc.; yes I believe this is good and right. But At Hobson, there's a different starting point. There's no telling what those crazy (said affectionately) people believe or value in their heads, but when it comes to their bodies, they practice radical hospitality. They hug and hug and hug. Some of the younger men like to reach out to shake your hand and then pull you into a huge embrace. Some are so tall that my head reaches only their chest (awkward!) but they hug me anyway. Little girls with beads in their hair usually grab me around the knees once or twice during the passing of the peace. And last Sunday I even got a few kisses from matriarchs of the church. I still can't figure out which kid goes with which parent, and there are far more single mothers than traditional nuclear families, but it seems like one big family anyway for an hour and a half every Sunday.

One more thing on the hospitality theme: communion. Every Sunday we go forward to the traditional United Methodist rail; we kneel; and two people Sonnye has called out spontaneously from the congregation serve the elements: teenage girls; gay men; people who come to church only occasionally; even Jamie and myself. It doesn't matter. And EVERYONE is welcome to participate. The bulletin says you all are invited regardless of faith community or if you do not have a faith community at all. You could be the loudest, most obnoxious atheist in the city and Hobson would want you at the table. Literally. And if it was your birthday that week, we'd all sing together to you too, another part of the unique Hobson liturgy. (See Sonnye here breaking the bread, though I've never actually seen him wear a tie before!)


So it's this elusive blend of formal and informal, spontaneity and ritual, order and chaos. After the passing of the peace (which can take a good five or ten minutes), the pianist calls us back to order by playing (yes, every week) "Leaning on the everlasting arms." I almost have the words memorized by now... what a fellowship, what a joy divine, leaning on the everlasting arms...

Then, one of my favorite parts of the ritual is when we recite our covenants. The first one is common to broader Christian communities:

We are not alone, we live in God's world.

We believe in God: who has created and is creating, who has come in Jesus, the Word made flesh, to reconcile and make new, who works in us and others by the Spirit.

We trust in God.

We are called to be the Church: to celebrate God's presence, to live with respect in Creation, to love and serve others, to seek justice and resist evil, to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen, our judge and our hope.

In life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with us.

We are not alone.

Thanks be to God.

I usually choke up at the "in life, in death, in life beyond death" part, which is even more perfect when (because there's not really a worship leader) everyone says the phrase at a different time. What a joy divine to think about life beyond death, sure in heaven, but this poetic turn of phrase might mean a thousand different things. Then we say Hobson's own covenant, which I hope to adapt and use someday.

We are all on the journey of discipleship, all seeking to be faithful followers of Jesus Christ. We are all learners and all teachers. We all have gifts to share, and so we work to listen to and learn from each other, treating each other with respect and dignity. We are a community of grace and forgiveness, glad for our diversity and differences. Disagreements will come, but we are willing to remain a part of the community and a part of the conversation, so we will not walk out or close our hearts or minds.

Surely when you say this over and over again week after week, you begin to believe and practice it. Disagreements will come, but we won't threaten to withdraw. Differences are here, but that's a good thing. One of those differences for me is the call and response. Imagine when Sonnye gets to preaching people shouting through that old sanctuary things like, "Well..." "Come on" "Teach preacher" "Yessuh!" I picture my Mennonite ancestors leaning over and saying, "Why are they yelling in church?" Mostly I sit quietly and smile as I rejoice in how my welcome presence at Hobson is the intersection of incredibly diverse communities, communities which are reconciling over and over again.

Jamie and myself with Charles, who used to live in Ottawa, KS