Civility and inclusivity: resonance and dissonance between faith and context
I have used the term ‘reticent hospitality’ to describe what seems to be a widespread muting of any verbally explicit talk of faith precisely in the name of hospitality. The ways in which the language of hospitality is used in formal theology - as an enabling of honest, difficult conversation across diverse convictions22 - runs the risk of giving grounds for the idealisation of hospitable practice, whilst failing to enable the move into deeper hospitable practice of faith and non-faith sharing. Given the demands and potential of the postsecular city as described by Justin Beaumont and others, it is precisely in this deeper practice of hospitality that real transformation and fresh learning might be possible. The reticence of many of our practitioners concerning faith-talk would seem, however, to be part of wider cultural expectations, which are especially amplified in the plural and potentially conflictual global city. These expectations concern the qualities of civility and inclusion as essential to London life.
These societal behaviours of mutual tolerance are recognisably a part of the instincts of Christian practices in this context, as one would expect. The tentative use of the rather conservative evangelical Alpha resources, and their adaptation by St. Mary’s Rector is done in sensitivity to the more inclusive, liberal ethos of that parish (C2). As referred to in the previous section, Messy Church leaders felt that discussion of faith matters with other mothers might harm their friendships, and Housing Justice volunteers seemed to feel that speaking of their work as faith motivated somehow undermined its value as a practice of care (El). In all these cases, we see examples of Christian practices embodying not only faith-instincts around community, kindness and inclusion, but also cultural values. Whether late modern social accounts of inclusion and civility are identical with Christian understandings of inclusive community is a matter for hard discernment.
For example, St. Mary’s prided itself on being an inclusive church (Cl); the hospitality it offered was without condition or demand - and it was precisely this that made it such an attractive place for many - “It’s so nonexpectation it’s magnetic!” (C4, Interview 2). Values of open-mindedness and unquestioning welcome were paramount (C4, Interview 3); indeed, this principled inclusivity, rather more than traditional, normative Church of England understandings of parish as ‘located’, seemed to be the driving force for many of those attending (C5). At the same time, this commitment was revealed to have certain tensions with the normative scriptural theology for this group. So, Jesus’ ministry was recognised as ‘inclusive and welcoming’ in that he ‘ate with sinners’, often calling them to repentance (C4); but this biblical language of sin and repentance did not marry well with the liberal assumptions about inclusivity being espoused and practised. In the end, the gospel challenge is to whether there are any proper demands that can and should be made on Christians, whether in terms of discipline, behaviour or belief? It is, perhaps, no coincidence that the naming and visibility of the historical Jesus and his teaching (as distinct from liturgical celebration and presence) was recognised as a difficulty for this community (C3).
None of this is to negate the clear effectiveness of practices of welcome and inclusivity that is visible in the St. Mary’s data; people were clearly finding much needed community, and a sense of belonging and being drawn more deeply into Christian practice (C4). Rather, this account stands as an example of the ambivalence and proper complexity of these Christian and culturally shaped instincts toward inclusivity. It identifies as an area for Christian discernment the relationships between inclusion/ welcome and demand/discipline in the Christian life.
