The Loving Congregation

The Loving Congregation

THE LOVING CONGREGATION

by Harvey Lauer

In the following story Harvey Lauer captures the

experience that many blind church members have

had and

demonstrates the most effective way of educating,

reassuring,

and witnessing to congregations filled with

ordinary people

who fear blindness and are uncertain how to

behave with blind

people. Here is what he has to say:

"We can't ask them to help. What could they

do? They are

blind!" When we were new members of our

congregation,

Bethlehem in Broadview, Illinois, that's almost

the first

remark my wife and I overheard. It didn't

surprise me because

I had met professors who wouldn't let me take

their courses

and some who wanted to give me a good grade just

because I was

blind. By the time we moved to Broadview, I was

employed as a

rehabilitation teacher and had to deal regularly

with

stereotyped notions about disability.

My wife, Lueth, had just come from a rural

community in

which blindness was poorly understood by her

family and

friends. They meant well but perceived her as

dependent, even

as an adult. She came to the city with hopes of

being accepted

as a contributing member of society.

Because of her shyness she reacted by feeling ill

at ease

and withdrawing. She hoped that we could find a

friendlier

church, but I saw the problem differently. I knew

that only

time and acquaintance would reveal whether such

remarks were

based on clannishness, ignorance, or pity.

People were friendly, but that didn't help much.

They

told her how amazing it was that she read and

wrote Braille,

something she had learned in school and which she

felt should

not be considered unusual. As a result, she felt

self-

conscious and would not read aloud in public.

At church gatherings we both sat a lot and must

have

appeared rather helpless. People may have

wondered how we did

our housework. We kept a reasonably good house,

but there were

two big obstacles to functioning in church.

The first was unfamiliarity with the territory.

At home

we knew where to find things. At church almost

nothing was

ever in the same place twice. At home awkward

behavior could

be laughed off; in public the appearance of

awkwardness brings

not only needed assistance but sometimes too much

help and

expressions of pity that are hard to take.

Talk was futile. There were two barriers. It was

hard for

Lueth to try new things, and some people were

reluctant to

give her a chance. Some wanted to help but didn't

know how to

begin.

While she couldn't wait on tables efficiently,

she could

have helped in the kitchen if she had known where

things were

kept. She couldn't watch children on the

playground, but she

could have helped in the nursery if people had

believed in her

ability. She couldn't make posters, but she had

developed the

ability to write and dramatize stories. Yet she

needed

encouragement and acceptance. My own road to

acceptance and

involvement was just as rocky.

Over the course of several years, and with the

help of

prayer and good friends, our strategy took shape.

We

volunteered to organize the coffee hours. Then we

"forgot" to

find someone to go in early to make coffee and

prepare for the

activity, so the job fell to us.

We went a half hour early in order to familiarize

ourselves with the kitchen and find everything we

needed. The

members who came later with coffee cakes were

surprised to

find us there and more surprised to find the

place set up for

business.

In calling people for the next coffee hour, we

found that

it's easy to get people to bring things, but

harder to find

someone who will go early and set everything up.

Lueth said,

"Why don't we do it again?" So we did

it again and many more

times after that. Each time different people who

were taking

their turns would come in and find us working.

Good working relationships were formed. Lueth

began to

help with other activities. People found out what

she could do

efficiently and gave her those tasks.

The years went by. We had birthday parties for

our

children and invited members' children. We joined

neighborhood

Bible study groups, where Lueth gradually gained

the

confidence to read passages and contribute to the

discussion.

She volunteered to be a friendly visitor in

convalescent

homes, where she could talk with people

individually, then

later read stories to groups, and finally lead a

Bible class.

Now she is on the evangelism team and an officer

on the church

council.

I did not learn about the final incident in my

story

until twenty years after it happened. Some people

in town told

a group of church members that we should be

investigated

because we were blind and probably couldn't take

proper care

of our children.

Nothing was done about the suggestion because the

members

assured them that blindness was no reason for

such a concern.

They said that our children were at least as well

cared for as

theirs. It turned out that ours is not only a

friendly church,

but an observant and loving one as well.