As my seven readers may know from
looking at my profile, one of my identities is 'mediocre musician'.
One of my favorite things to do, musically, is to go to bluegrass
jams. Basically, what happens at a bluegrass jam is that people sit
or stand around and play bluegrass songs. By and large, anyone can
show up at a jam ~ doesn't matter whether you're a great player, or
just starting on an instrument.
I'm not a very good bluegrass musician,
but in the years that I've been going to jams, I've gotten good
enough to be able to at least keep up in most circles. So I felt a
little bit off balance last week when I went to a jam and felt like I
didn't completely fit in. It took me a little while to figure out
why, but here's what I think.
I showed up to the jam just as it was
starting, and it was obvious that everyone else who was there knew
each other. They were calling one another by name, talking about
their life beyond that night, and asking about mutual friends. Even
as other people showed up, it was obvious that everyone there knew
everyone else, that they saw each other regularly in that venue, and
that they interacted with one another in other settings as well. Out
of probably 12 to 15 people who were there that night, there was only
one who I thought might not be a regular … and she was the only
person who said anything to me all night.
Once the jam started, the group was
mostly playing songs I didn't know. I'm competent enough to be able
to keep up with the chord changes for new songs, and confident enough
to know that if I can't play the song, I'll sit it out. The thing
that bugged me, though, was that I know plenty of songs (just not the
ones they were playing). I would have been happy to call, and lead,
one of the songs I do know. But in that circle, no one invited me to
suggest a song, and it didn't feel like anyone cared that a stranger
might have something to offer.
It felt to me like this group held a
jam so that they could see each other, and the music was of lesser
importance than their already-established relationships. I felt like
an outsider for the whole night, and I felt like they didn't care
whether I was there or not. The only thing anyone said as I was
leaving was, “He's not coming back, is he? I'm going to take his
chair.”
I'm not too bent out of shape about
this experience. This jam happens in a town that I hardly ever get
to, so it's not likely I'll be going back. Plus, there are a few
other jams that I get to which are much more friendly.
The folks at the jam I frequent most
often go out of their way to welcome new people. Beyond just
welcoming, they do whatever they can to involve everyone fully, no
matter who they are. When someone new shows up, everyone introduces
themselves. The leader (jam host) makes sure the new person has an
opportunity to receive communication about what's happening in the
future, and the leader makes sure everyone has something to drink and
a place to sit. Other than that, the leader is no different from
anyone else in the circle.
Essentially, it feels like everyone is
there because they love playing music, and the folks at this jam go
out of their way to encourage others to be part of this jam because
they love what happens there.
From what I can tell, there's one
critical difference between this group and my recent new-jam
experience. In my regular group, people are happy to see friends,
but they're there to play music ~ and if new people show up to play
music, they're immediately equally part of the group (whether they're
beginners or experts).
The other night, I stumbled in to a
place where people who happen to play the same kind of music like to
hang out together and play that music. If someone else who also
likes that music happens to show up, they can join in the playing.
But since it felt like the primary reason to be there was for people
to see their friends, there was no real reason to be excited about
new people (who aren't their friends) happen to show up.
There's a huge difference between being
excited about seeing friends, and being excited about the activity.
There's no reason to invite or welcome strangers into a circle of
friends; the stranger is, by definition, not part of the circle of
friends. But when a group is motivated by the activity, they're more
likely (without even thinking about it) to want to get anyone and
everyone to participate in that activity.
This one simple experience is changing,
and reinforcing, the way I think about church. Too often, it seems
like church is about doing something with friends. When we get
together, we're happy to catch up with people we know. It's usually
fine if others show up, but we don't tend to go out of our way to
make sure they're fully able to participate, and it's usually months
before we invite them to share their gifts.
When we talk about church being a
'family', and when we concern ourselves primarily with the programs
and activities which are geared toward people who are already here,
we necessarily become insular, self-centered, and unwelcoming. I
wonder how many people walk away from our congregations like I did
from that jam the other day ~ feeling like an outsider, ignored and
undervalued.
When what we're doing becomes more
important than who we're with, we can't help but to want others to
participate. We can't help but to invite people to show up with us.
We can't help but to open the circle a little wider, because we want
everyone to be able to have access to this thing (whether it's music
or Gospel) that we love so much.
$0.02
