Coffee Hour: A Gauntlet of Perils

I find coffee hour to be the most uncomfortable part of church-going. The homily or sermon runs a close second, because you never know what will be said. It could be great, could be fine, could put you to sleep, or it could be something that should have spent more time fermenting in the imagination before setting foot out of the lips. It can be a grab bag, but you do your best to accept it. Coffee hour is more like a myriad of mini-sermons and homilies going off all around you, and so often they can be far more unsettling than anything occuring at the front of the Church. . . .

Some want to talk about other religions, usually with negative anecdotes, jokes, or stereotypes. Often they’ll claim they “can”, because they used to be part of such religions, or have family members that are. Somehow it is then felt that any such behavior is justified. This is particularly poisonous in mission environments, but really anywhere, since almost anyone may have family or friends who are adherents. For these folk, though, the Faith is about being in the right group. Some want to talk about jurisdictional differences, in essentially the same way. Others prefer to frame it as Christianity vs. the world, but too often the world is fitted with unfair and unproductive stereotypes, and it becomes just another excuse for belittling “them”, whoever them happens to be.

The “political” want to talk about events in the diocese as an institution, often citing what “we” (by which they mean some informal faction or power group) want to accomplish, and frequently referencing some problem that needs to be fixed. If you didn’t know better, you might think these folks were appointing priests, the way they talk about making sure the “right” attitudes, or “right” groups are favored, and we keep the “wrong” attitudes and groups from gaining ground. The Faith, for these folks, is about the triumph of one faction over another.

The collectors of pedigrees will approach you and request your bio or “conversion story”: “cradle or convert?” “how long?” “where?” “how?” “with whom?” They want to understand your “place” in terms of a grid of credentials, biographical facts, trivialities, and presumably deterministic factors, often to determine your compatibility with themselves. “We like to meet others in the Faith who (share a particular credential).” It really is an American, Protestant-inspired way to approach meeting people, so you can’t really question it without seeming to question innocent attempts to get to know you – i.e. hospitality itself. The fact is, however, it reflects the attitudes of a particular cultural group in a particular period of history, and makes a lot of the rest of us uncomfortable. At it’s heart, though, it is suggesting that the Faith is primarily about conversion, and the facts, attitudes, and concepts associated with it. Again, the Faith is seen as a matter of becoming a member in the right group.

The cult of personality types want to talk about the priest. “Isn’t he wonderful?” Or the bishop. “Have you met him? He’s wonderful.” If the priest happens to be out of town, they make repeated and profuse apologies, as though somehow prayer was less than the fulness of prayer, because the priest was absence. You’ll often hear these folks throw around words like “authority”, “obedience”, and “submission” when they disagree with something. The other version of these are th eones who are discussing how wonderful someone is as a means of discussing the flaws of a lot of other people. They’re setting up comparisons. The assertion is that the Faith is about being connected to the right personalities, or power structure (the word authority is often thought to mean the same thing as power, and so is used in that way). This is an essentially Roman Catholic and Protestant framework.

The builders want to talk logistics: headcount, the building program, funding, construction, delivery, manpower. The result of their labours may be good, but they’re conveying an attitude: the Faith is matter of growth, numbers, and building of institutions – of getting from point A to point B. Again, they may be doing very good work, but they’re also the ones counting heads, tallying everything – they’re the most likely to interrupt your prayers to shake your hand, talking over reader, choir, or priest if necessary, believing it will make you feel welcome.

There is also the mundane approach, which can be a little more palatable. Some wnat to talk about the four keys: job, house, family, vehicle, and the things necessary for acquisition, upkeep, and maintenance on these. They’ll talk about the office, the new gutters and landscaping, the son’s soccer team and the last family camping vacation, and the benefits of the new dual cab truck. Nothing wrong with these things, but often the complete absence of any discussion of the day’s prayers, readings, hymns, psalms, etc., the almost glaring absence, makes this approach notable. It screams out by its omissions.

There are the quasi-scholars, also. These are trying to have a discussion about the actual goal of the Faith, union with the Creator, but it so often is lost in a discussion of this or that book or writer or, again, authority or personality. It’s not much different than when adolescents discuss the musical groups they like. This or that person gives me a particular feeling when reading it; I heard that author has “problems” or is influenced by this “school” of doctrine. This is easily related to the discussion of issues. Should we or should we not engage in ___ controversial practice. Did you hear so and so speak; he said ___; do you think that’s true? And often these pet theories attributed to various persons become a platform for one’s own pet theories: “Personally, I don’t fast, because I don’t think ____.” It isn’t a discussion of the Faith, but a discussion of items appearing on a menu of Faith, and which ones I prefer or don’t eat. The Faith, in this approach, is a matter of personal theories and individual positions.

The other kind of “political” crowd wants to talk about campaigns, wars, and events in the governmental politics of the homeland, with an invariably tacit assumption that there is a particular correspondence between the articles of Faith and certain platforms of politics. They may be going off in favor of a war, or about welfare, or about “liberals”, or about thinking this or that candidate is a “man of god”. Which god? So often the positions being described are in fact the diametrical opposite of the words Jesus spoke in His Sermon on the Mount. One might suspect that’s why the correspondence of religion and a particular political platform is generally assumed or implied rather than asserted explicitly. There’s probably a place for organizing activism and engagement with the culture in a Church, but perhaps it isn’t actually during coffee hour. The danger here is in creating an atmosphere in which it feels impossible to adhere to the Faith without adhering to a political agenda that presumably represents it.

On rare occasions, you’ll find a discussion of praxis or of the meaning of the Faith. The Faith, in this discussion, will be its own justification for conversation. Too easily, however, these discussions descend into occasions for pride of expression or experience. The moment you hear “God just spoke to my heart”, you know you’re in the midst of this type. No, he didn’t. If it was private, and happened to you, it was private and for you. If it happened at all. These things are best worked out with one’s confessor and spiritual counsellor and parent.

If you make anyone aware that you’re thinking these things, you’re going to take flack, let me warn you. All kinds of flack. Any time you say, ‘Look, there are some things here that don’t seem right, or with which I’m really uncomfortable.” you’re going to get a series of different reactions, cast in the terms and terminology and concepts of the Faith, but reflecting more realistically the personalities and attitudes of your detractor. Someone will say, “maybe you’re the problem.” “Maybe” is a good word – it keeps anyone from saying a thing is or isn’t so – it lets one act as though something were so, while actually just drawing on a personal attitude or speculation. What they’re saying is, “I don’t like it that you’ve said these things.” Someone will say, “It’s not loving for you to criticize these people.” The best response to that is always silence; after all, they’ve just finished criticizing you, and if you speak, they may not catch it. Someone will say, “I think all these are good things; we should have all this diversity of talk.” or “It’s a good thing for people to feel comfortable to talk about what’s on their minds, and not feel squelched or inhibited.” Don’t respond to this; it’s a straw man. Besides, you’ve just been given license to have said everything you’ve said, without being squelched or needing to inhibited. Take the license, and leave the straw man behind. Someone will throw out religious curse words like “prideful”, “unloving”, and “judgmental” – not realizing that they’re convicting themselves of the very meaning of those words; you can’t argue with namecalling; it’s an ad hominem; they’ve said nothing about whether what you’ve said is true or not; they’ve just attacked you personally. Don’t respond and try to stand on that ground; there’s no need to defend yourself; besides, it usually pours boiling water on their heads to say, “Yes. I’m a sinner guilty of innumerable sins like these and others. Pray for me.” If they have trouble with that, it’s clearly about them and their feelings, and nothing else. You’ll get the “You’ve offended me. I’m deeply offended” approach, or the “You’ve offended sensitive Susan over there. She’s deeply offended. She even left early.” version of that. Nothing you can do about this; they’re saying that one person is more valuable than another, that coming after you directly and personally is OK, but having an idea that bothers someone else is not. It’s a dual standard, a form of false accusation, and you can’t accept that as ground either. Let it go. Someone will say that they’re “concerned” for you, spiritually, for the turmoil you obviously feel, and will be praying for you (by which they mean stigmatizing you and gossiping about you – when they’ve said it publicly, and condescending to you when they haven’t), or the alternate version are people who are “concerned” about what you “represent” or are “doing” to their environment (by which they mean they plan to complain a lot to authority figures, accuse you without you being present, and try to get you called in and silenced).

In short, if you want to think these things, you’d better not let on or, if you do, you’d better be prepared for a ration of shit a mile long from all the “loving” people. This is religion, my friend. You know, and I know it. Religion is everywhere. You’ll find it in any Faith and, in fact, any large group of people presumably united by thinking and practice. You’ll find it in academia, political groups, family, and even things as mundane as bicycling associations or scouting troops. Religion is not the Faith; it merely masquerades as the Faith and utilizes the power structures at work among the faithful, as well as the cultural biases, perceptions, and assumptions of even the pious. It corrupts the well-meaning, turning them into tools, and it feeds off of slander, unfairness, impiety, corruption, and the very things that typify the above coffee-hour cliques – namely, the transformation of or presentation of or equation of the Faith with a system of personalities, power structures, politics, or other elements that are not, in fact, what it is. If you say anything, in other words, you’ll bring the implications of the thing you describe down upon you.

My advice? Say nothing. Drink your coffee, move around a lot, leave early, remain alert and circumspect, and try to stay as silent as the grave when at all possible. And immerse yourself in the pieties of your Faith. Pray a lot. Liturgize a lot. Stay out of the other stuff. At least, that’s what I’m doing my best to do.