But there are two things I really want to talk about.
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The first happened at the end, as most memorable things seem to do. After spending five days with one another, we trekked over to the home of the diocesan youth missioner (I think that's the right term?) where we played bocce ball and ate a delicious dinner on her porch.
After dinner, we lit candles and sat around the porch. One of the organizers of the immersion led us in a reflection- we were encouraged to say a few words about what we intend to take back with us. In the candlelight and cool Seattle weather, it was wonderful to sit and listen to each other's experience and what it meant to us. We placed natural objects that we had brought from our homes on the table, which was now functioning as an altar of sorts.
Then, we cracked open our Books of Common Prayer and began a closing service. We sat around, straining to see the words in the low light, and followed along as Griff, our ordained trip organizer, brought out the bread and wine for the Eucharist. I was struck by the simplicity of it all.
But here we were, on someone's porch, blessing the elements and preparing to unite ourselves in the body of Christ. It reminded me of when I learned about how the early Christians worshipped in homes, usually with whoever had a big enough one to accommodate the believers. Here we all were, in the home of a woman we had just recently met but who was hospitable enough to allow 20 of us to stay with her.
There was no music other than the songs we sang, there was no procession or elaborate chalices. There was only the common bond we had built over the five days together- the new relationships were the most beautiful thing we could place on that altar/porch table.
And so on that porch, in the house of a believer that was big enough to hold us, we passed the bread and wine and served one another. When we passed the peace, everyone made sure to hug each person there. We knew each other's names. We celebrated communing together because of how different we all were. The Holy Spirit moved through our gathering in so many ways- it was beautiful. I knew that I was exactly where I needed to be in that moment.
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The second thing I took away from this immersion is a question (ok, several questions actually). But first, let me explain how I came to it.
The topic of youth engagement in faith-based organizations seems like it has been one of great concern lately. After all, anyone who isn't concerned with building up the next generation of leaders is probably in the process of dying out.
Thus, as I entered this immersion, I was interested to hear more about how other young people were doing in their congregations. And let me tell you- there was a wide range. I heard one person remark "I never knew there were this many other young people in the church" just after another spoke about their thriving youth presence in a large church.
As with most things, there's a wide range of experiences among young adults.
But what I was struck by as I watched my fellow participants was the huge amount of potential present in the group. These people could really make change happen.
They are here. They are in the church now.
(Now I'll switch to an ambiguous "we"). "We" are somewhere between the ages of 18-30, but just as with people in the age range of 31-45 or whatever, we have a large variety of lived experience. "We" have different needs and different gifts to bring.
"We" are a group that the church seems concerned with getting more of, of appealing to. I hear about how churches need to employ strategy ___ to get more of "us" or how they need a Facebook page so that "we" will know when to show up. "We" love social media and socials and service projects.
But do "we" really have a place at the table? And is the church ready to make room for "us" on all levels of the church? In other words, are "you" ready for "us?"
I do like socials. Don't get me wrong- I spend way too much time on Facebook.
But what I saw this weekend was potential that demands more than that- I saw emerging leadership. So, my question to my church is this: is there room for "us" at the table? Not the kid's table, but the big table where the important decisions are made and the faith of the church is lived out in the world.
I don't ask this out of a sense of feeling slighted or hurt- rather, I feel that it is the required follow-up question to what I hear all the time in seminary, from folks of many different denominations... "Where are the young people?"
Because maybe "we" are already here, just waiting to be invited in to the inner sanctuary, if you will. This is scary- each organization that I have encountered, religious or not, keeps its inner workings private. I get that. (With the exception of grassroots led groups such as Kentuckians for the Commonwealth, but I have found that these are an exception in a largely hierarchical world).
But isn't true Gospel hospitality that frightening process of allowing the "Other" to cross the threshold? Of allowing that which we don't understand to enter our sacred space in order to create a new shared space? Because the church is built on the foundation of the Gospel. The church is, by its very founding, meant to be a countercultural organization based on the radical principles of love and non-attachment to the trappings of the material world. Isn't it?
So when we talk about young adults in the church, we're not just talking about getting more young people involved in our corporation- we're talking about how to get more young people interested in the above ideas. Right? Isn't this what evangelism is based on? (I ask this honestly and not rhetorically- I don't claim to be an expert in any of this, after all.)
In sum, to me the question of young adults in the church is much more a question of who the church is, rather than a question of who/where young adults are.
I don't know how to answer the latter without first addressing the former.
Of course, I don't know who "we" young people are any better than you do. It's an ambiguous category with only an age limit to define its boundaries, which bothers me because it seems so arbitrary.
Thus, after the immersion, I am left more with a sense of our great interconnectedness as humans than I am with clarity on what young adults want or need. I know that I am deeply grateful for the time spent with new friends, and humbled and excited to be back home with old ones. I cried during church on Sunday because I was so happy to be home...ah, this really is the good life. So thank you thank you thank you to the Episcopal Church and all those I have met so far for providing the space for asking questions and sitting in the tension between new and old. To conclude, I leave you with a quote...
Healing is impossible in loneliness: it is the opposite of loneliness. Conviviality is healing. To be healed we must come with all the other creatures to the feast of Creation.[Wendell Berry]
