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kayrePondering my churches and feedback loops... but of course the same kind of feedback loops could happen in any social group.
I've been involved in two churches in recent years. People at both would, I'm sure, describe me as intelligent and musically gifted. But people at church A described me, to my face, as 'hostile and unfriendly.' People at church B would find that impossible to believe; I think they'd use words like friendly, fun, warm, generous.
To some extent, they're both right. And it's partly because in both churches, I was caught in a feedback loop.
Members of both churches would probably say their congregation is warm and friendly -- "like a family." (Ironically, church B is less likely to say that.) And again, they'd both be right. But church A is a mostly closed family. The core of the church have known each other for years, they are neighbors, they've raised their children together. They are welcoming to newcomers--if those newcomers are new friends of a current member, or extended family members, and live in the area, and are socially similar. My family came in as strangers, live on the fringe of the church's neighborhood, and have a different social background. We weren't shown the door, but we weren't embraced and drawn into the family, either.
And then, after almost a year, I observed a problem, and spoke up about it-- appropriately, through exactly the right channels. And even though the problem was real, the reaction was that I had criticized one of them, and that wasn't okay. And so the problem was excused, and I was treated a bit coldly. And that's where the feedback loop started. My concern was ignored and I got cold shoulders where I hoped for warmth, and I reacted by letting my hurt and anger show, and they reacted by treating me even more coldly, and I felt and acted even more hurt and angry, and on it went. Until eventually the pastor of this warm and friendly church gave me the "I think you'd be happier in another church" talk.
She did that knowing that I was already somewhat involved in church B, working there part time as a musician. Church B might not describe themselves as 'like a family,' because they are far more diverse-- while some of them have been there a long time, they are spread out geographically, and their social situations are far more varied. From my first day there, I was warmly welcomed; people went out of their way to make me comfortable. Small issues that would have been taken as criticisms at church A were heard as simple concerns-- flowers that make me sneeze were moved further away, people who learned of my dietary issues made sure there were always refreshments I could eat. I saw them extending this loving care to each other, too. When I addressed a problem remarkably similar to the one at church A, they listened, acknowledged that I was right, apologized, changed what was happening-- and thanked me! And just as I reflected the coldness at church A, I'm reflecting church B. Among them, I'm happy, and warm and loving. I take every opportunity I see to care for them the way they care for me. And then they love me more, and I am happier and more secure and more loving, and on it goes.
I'm the first to admit that being so affected by my environment points to a certain weakness in me; I wish I were a saint who could be warm and loving even when treated badly. But I also think it's human to bloom or wilt according to how we are treated. And perhaps it says something better about me that the cold hurt angry behavior I fell into at church A didn't stay with me at church B-- but that the pastor at church A, even while asking me to leave, said that I had been "better lately"-- because, I think, the love and security I felt at church B was staying with me even when I returned to church A, and it showed. And it still does, more and more, when I'm at church and when I'm not.
I've been involved in two churches in recent years. People at both would, I'm sure, describe me as intelligent and musically gifted. But people at church A described me, to my face, as 'hostile and unfriendly.' People at church B would find that impossible to believe; I think they'd use words like friendly, fun, warm, generous.
To some extent, they're both right. And it's partly because in both churches, I was caught in a feedback loop.
Members of both churches would probably say their congregation is warm and friendly -- "like a family." (Ironically, church B is less likely to say that.) And again, they'd both be right. But church A is a mostly closed family. The core of the church have known each other for years, they are neighbors, they've raised their children together. They are welcoming to newcomers--if those newcomers are new friends of a current member, or extended family members, and live in the area, and are socially similar. My family came in as strangers, live on the fringe of the church's neighborhood, and have a different social background. We weren't shown the door, but we weren't embraced and drawn into the family, either.
And then, after almost a year, I observed a problem, and spoke up about it-- appropriately, through exactly the right channels. And even though the problem was real, the reaction was that I had criticized one of them, and that wasn't okay. And so the problem was excused, and I was treated a bit coldly. And that's where the feedback loop started. My concern was ignored and I got cold shoulders where I hoped for warmth, and I reacted by letting my hurt and anger show, and they reacted by treating me even more coldly, and I felt and acted even more hurt and angry, and on it went. Until eventually the pastor of this warm and friendly church gave me the "I think you'd be happier in another church" talk.
She did that knowing that I was already somewhat involved in church B, working there part time as a musician. Church B might not describe themselves as 'like a family,' because they are far more diverse-- while some of them have been there a long time, they are spread out geographically, and their social situations are far more varied. From my first day there, I was warmly welcomed; people went out of their way to make me comfortable. Small issues that would have been taken as criticisms at church A were heard as simple concerns-- flowers that make me sneeze were moved further away, people who learned of my dietary issues made sure there were always refreshments I could eat. I saw them extending this loving care to each other, too. When I addressed a problem remarkably similar to the one at church A, they listened, acknowledged that I was right, apologized, changed what was happening-- and thanked me! And just as I reflected the coldness at church A, I'm reflecting church B. Among them, I'm happy, and warm and loving. I take every opportunity I see to care for them the way they care for me. And then they love me more, and I am happier and more secure and more loving, and on it goes.
I'm the first to admit that being so affected by my environment points to a certain weakness in me; I wish I were a saint who could be warm and loving even when treated badly. But I also think it's human to bloom or wilt according to how we are treated. And perhaps it says something better about me that the cold hurt angry behavior I fell into at church A didn't stay with me at church B-- but that the pastor at church A, even while asking me to leave, said that I had been "better lately"-- because, I think, the love and security I felt at church B was staying with me even when I returned to church A, and it showed. And it still does, more and more, when I'm at church and when I'm not.
