Will we let ourselves be changed?

It’s easy to say, “Everyone is welcome.” Most churches say it, right? Most of us genuinely mean it. I wonder, though, if there's a deeper question beneath those words.

When we say, “all are welcome,” what are we really inviting people into?

Are we inviting them to belong? Or are we inviting them to become like us?

Those are not the same thing.

Unitarian Universalists have wrestled for decades with why there aren’t more Black people in their congregations. I've heard the question posed at my own church several times in the past couple of years. The short answer is that there isn't one reason, and it’s highly inaccurate to say Black people don't come to UU churches. Many do, and there are Black UU congregations, ministers, and leaders. But it is true that UUism remains disproportionately white.

It’s about culture, not just theology. A congregation can sincerely say that everyone is welcome while still feeling extremely white in its norms —  what music is sung, how emotions are expressed, and what assumptions are made about "good" worship.

(A room full of white folks with PhDs singing “We Shall Overcome” ain’t where it’s at, y’all. Yikes.)

It’s about history and trust. Whew…that’s a whole other post!

It’s about representation. If visitors don't see Black people in leadership, in the pulpit, or just very basically reflected in worship, they may wonder whether they truly belong.

It’s about feeling marginalized. It’s about what happens after they’re welcomed inside. Some Black UUs have talked about feeling welcomed at the surface level but not fully accepted when they bring different perspectives, styles of worship, or critiques of the congregation's culture.

"This is just how we've always done things" doesn't jive. Nah.

Room isn't truly made for Black voices, experiences, or expressions. Especially not their anger, grief, or exhaustion. Or their joy. Maybe it isn't universally true of every congregation, but it’s a recurring theme. Inclusion isn't only about opening the door. It's also about whether people are expected to adapt to the existing culture or whether the culture itself is willing to change.

Do we (maybe unintentionally) communicate that there is a "right" way to participate? Calmly, analytically, cerebrally? With maximum emotional restraint? That affects many Black people who value passionate preaching, embodied worship, testimony, call-and-response, or storytelling.

(You do not have to be Southern Baptist or AME for these to apply!)

That said, it's also worth asking a challenging question…if Black people came, would they actually have real influence?

Would the congregation be willing to change some of its music (more than once or twice a year) because that's what new members love? Change components of its worship style? Share decision-making? Hear uncomfortable truths about race without becoming defensive? Allow different ways of expressing spirituality to reshape the congregation?

The answers to these can show whether a church seeks diversity or genuine shared ownership.

Does the church have enough flexibility to be transformed by the people it hopes to welcome?

 Not all Black people are alike — they most definitely are not — but every culture carries gifts that need to be given and received. Every life carries wisdom. Every community sees something another community has missed.

The same is true for children.

Immigrants.

Working-class people.

Former evangelicals.

People who have never been inside a church.

People whose spirituality looks nothing like ours.

If everyone who joins simply becomes more like us, then maybe we’re growing in numbers.

But are we growing in soul?

A truly welcoming church isn’t one that just says, “You belong here.” It’s one that’s also willing to say, “You could teach us a new thing.”

I think that’s the difference between hospitality and assimilation. Assimilation says, “Come in. Sit down. Learn how we do things here.” Hospitality says, “Come in. Let’s learn from each other.”

That kind of welcome is harder because change is uncomfortable. It means sometimes singing songs we don’t know. (But we are teachable! Make the simple effort to learn "Wade in the Water.") Reading authors we’ve never heard of. Celebrating traditions unfamiliar to us. Listening more than speaking. Letting others express themselves in ways that may feel foreign to us. (No one is going to die if someone feels moved to say “Amen.”) Sometimes even admitting that the way we’ve always done things isn’t the only faithful way.

And isn’t that what liberal religion has always claimed to believe? That revelation isn’t sealed? That truth is still unfolding?

If we truly believe that…then maybe new people aren’t interruptions or a thing to be endured. Maybe they aren’t people to be dismissed as “better suited elsewhere.” Maybe they’re revelation. Maybe every new voice is another way the universe is still speaking.

It isn’t about how friendly we are at Coffee Hour.

Maybe it's about…whether anyone’s presence here ever changed us. I’m talking profoundly. Have we become more compassionate because they arrived? More joyful? More courageous? More honest? More just?

If not…maybe we’ve welcomed people into our building without truly welcoming them into our space of becoming.

We have to open our doors. Then our hearts. Then our habits. Then our future.

We can’t stop at simply saying, “You belong here.” We have to be willing to say, “You just might change who we become.”

We must have the courage to become exactly that.