By Cathy Hird

Some time ago, an African Caribbean minister who had just been hired by a rural Ontario church expressed her relief that the congregation had accepted her so openly, making no issue of her accent, her colour, her culture. Someone else at the meeting said, "But won't it be great when a church will hire you because of the gifts your Jamaican identity offers."

I learned something in that moment. Both people said something important about racism and inclusion in Southern Ontario.

For the minister herself, it was a relief to feel accepted. In other congregations, she had not felt that warmth of welcome. Some had complained that they could not hear her: her woman's voice was not as strong as a male minister's, and her accent was not what they were used to. It is unlikely that someone would comment on the colour of her skin, but someone might well say that they liked her hair on a certain day, implying that the braids and extensions she had been wearing, a style that fit her well, was not one they appreciated. Given the niggling, negative things she had heard in other places, the welcome was a relief.

Being colour blind is better than judging others for their skin tone, style of dress, accent or self-presentation. But it is not inclusion. This minister's congregation still expected a worship service and sermon that was basically Anglo-Ontarian. She had learned to "perform" within the spectrum they expected.

Inclusive community enables people to be themselves. This means creating space for each to bring their own cultural patterns into the circle. For example, when that minister led a prayer the way she would in a circle of Jamaican friends and the congregation joined in, then all are participating fully.

In part, it is a question of who sets the rules. If what is expected is Anglo-Ontarian culture, then people who bring gifts of Aboriginal Canada, Asia, South Asia, the Middle East, Latin America, Eastern Europe will have to step out of who they are to participate. And the whole it is poorer because only one kind of practice is offered.

More recently, another white minister stated that when she sings in a different language, she doesn't get as much out of it. I bit my tongue, and decided not to argue. I did talk about the gift of rhythms and tonality that other cultures put in their music. I also talked about letting music function as emotive not just an intellectual exercise. I told her about the first church I worked in as a student where every hymn was sung in English, Czech and Polish.

What I wanted to tell her was that when she felt left out, she was sharing the experience of many immigrants and many French Canadians. I wanted to ask why only Anglophones should never feel left out. Since then, I have seen changes in her as she has struggled with the principles of inclusive community and worked to understand how to open up a worship experience to all who are participating.

In another circle, I placed a piece of Kente cloth (woven strips from West Africa) on the table at the centre of a worship circle. A Ghanaian woman who had been invited to speak saw it when she arrived, and went over to touch it. She expressed joy and surpise. This cloth from her culture made her feel welcome from the moment she approached the circle.

It is equally simple to make people feel unwelcome. I asked a Black man who is engaged to someone I know where he was from. "England," he said. I chastised myself silently wrists and realized it was now going to take a longer to build relationship with him. I now know that his parents were from Jamaica, but one of the things that is denied by that question is the deep roots that African Canadians have in this country and this community.

There is no reason for WASP patterns to set the rules. Anglophones were not the first on this land. Each person will participate more fully if they can bring their whole self to the circle. The whole society is richer when the gifts of all are welcomed.

Cathy Hird is a farmer, minister and writer living near Walters Falls