Accommodation: From One Perspective

Accommodation: From One Perspective

Meredith Haider, Grace in the Southern Berkshires, Great Barrington

I’ve just returned from Sunday worship and I’m beaming, having been bathed in the love of Christ. Our congregation is incredible, and it is a true gift to watch every person in this somewhat small community give of themselves, each in a beautifully unique way.

I would not experience any of this joy without the collective efforts of our clergy, vestry members, and other congregants – past and present – who have willingly provided accommodations. An accommodation is defined by the Cambridge Dictionary as, “a special arrangement that is made for a person or group that has different needs to others.” I have different needs due to my disabling chronic illnesses. Accommodations enable me to access all that our parish offers. Without them and the spirit of loving welcome at my church, I’d probably have left organized religion altogether.

I belonged to a different denomination previously. I hadn’t yet qualified for a wheelchair, and when I became too ill to sit upright in the pews without my blood pressure dropping dangerously low, I asked if I could bring a fold up camp chair and stool, since having my legs raised helped my body maintain homeostasis. I was given a noncommittal shrug by the pastor, who mumbled that it wasn’t the best idea. So I stayed home and waited hopefully for the occasions when a parish member could bring me communion. I felt so grateful for those visits, but they became quite sporadic and then nearly stopped. When I requested more frequent visits, I was rebuffed.

That’s when God led me to Grace Church in the Southern Berkshires. Grace does not own a building, but has rented space over the years in a banquet hall and, more recently, in our local community center. This means that there are no stairs and no pews for me to navigate. From the first moment I entered Grace, I felt welcomed, camp chair and all. I noted the availability of gluten-free communion wafers and the amplification devices available for those with hearing loss. This was the first church of the many I’d attended that gave more than a nod to accommodating the needs of its diverse members.

When the pandemic struck, Grace Church quickly pivoted and began online worship over Zoom. Zoom services provided the connection that our community needed. They also became a lifeline for me. By then, I’d come down with a virus (likely COVID-19) that left me almost completely bed bound.

Once in-person services resumed, I felt a bit concerned that I’d be left “outside the fold,” so to speak, but I needn’t have worried. Our priest and deacon each came to visit me at home often. In addition, our parish chose to hire a technology coordinator who, together with churchgoing volunteers, ensured that we who were homebound felt included every Sunday. We continue hybrid worship to this day, and although there’s nothing better than being with my church family in person, this accommodation doesn’t just help me; it allows those who travel, live in other states part time, or face temporary health setbacks to feel connected as well.

Grace also purchased equipment that enabled me and many others to participate virtually in weekly gatherings held at our church office. Such inclusiveness and responsiveness to the needs of the people truly made a difference. There were technology glitches, but every time I provided feedback, I was met with open ears and efforts to improve accessibility.

Grace took things to a new level when I was elected to the vestry. I can’t imagine many churches that would invite a disabled, largely bed bound parishioner to join the vestry, but that’s the heart of our community. To make things easier for me and others, the vestry approved the purchase of a video conference camera that made meeting remotely a breeze.

All of these investments in technology were not only financial ones, but investments in connection. The inclusion and accessibility our congregation provides sets an example that is unparalleled by any other church I’ve attended.

These days, I’m getting stronger and am often able to attend Sunday services in person. Still, it’s not easy for me to keep my blood pressure steady. I’d hoped to take my new wheelchair to church each week, but in my rural area, accessible transportation is extremely limited on Sundays. So what did the members of Grace do? They bought me a zero gravity chair that allows me to recline and raise my legs during worship. Then they set up a transportation schedule that invites volunteers to drive those who need rides on Sundays. As a disabled person, I can state with certainty that the ways my church family has embraced my needs are truly exceptional.

Now, I enter our church space on Sundays with the aid of my walker and a congregation full of people who keep an eye out for my well being. I pick up a large print order of worship, recline in the zero gravity chair, and stand only when I’m able. I’m accepted just as I am, and have all the accommodations I need to be an active participant. On days when I’m not well enough to attend, I Zoom in and never feel that I’m sitting on the sidelines. Our rector sets an example by frequently acknowledging those of us on Zoom, and our congregation follows suit.

I know what it feels like to be an outsider looking in, longing to be involved in community. Now, I also know how it feels to receive accommodations that allow and encourage me to do so. Most churches have the capacity to do what Grace does. It can take financial resources, but mostly, it takes creativity, deep listening, and an openness on the part of a church community to welcome those who navigate the world differently from the norm. It is doable. It is also a tremendous gift; one I believe mirrors the love and justice that Jesus taught. ♦