The Deacon’s Table — Who Actually Gets to Sit There?

Last updated on: July 22, 2026 at 7:57 pm by Cara Meredith

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The Deacon’s Table — Who Actually Gets to Sit There? 2026-07-22T19:57:39-07:00 Cara Meredith

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In the coming months, much of my role will be one of literally setting this table of welcome. Within this setting, the deacon, if there is one, sets the table for the priest, who officially celebrates the Eucharist and distributes the elements. | Image created in Gemini for Patheos.

Last month, I wrote about my ordination to the Episcopal Church. And, as you also well know if you’ve been around these parts for any length of time, much of why I came to this church had to do with the radical inclusion it practices.

When we say God welcomes everyone at the table, we mean it. Gay and straight, female and male (and non-binary too), black and white, rich and poor. It’s not a matter of getting folks in the door because they say welcome is practiced (and then turning the tides on welcome and further defining who’s in and who’s out by who’s allowed to serve and lead and take communion, for example), but it’s a matter of welcome simply being what it’s supposed to be: welcome.

It’s a pretty good gig if you ask me.

But here we are, living in a moment when the word “welcome” itself is being contested everywhere. In churches, in politics, and in culture, we humans can’t seem to decide what it actually means to be welcoming to one another.

On Monday, an opinion article from Religion News Service made significant headlines. At least in my (nerdy, theological, religion-focused) world, it seems like everyone’s talking about it.

What, per se, are they talking about? They’re talking about the fact that “the strong alliance between Christians and Donald Trump actually pushed some people out of church.” They’re talking about the fact that Christians’ support of the current President has made them less inclined to step into a house of worship.

Check out one of the figures:

Of course, when the Billy Graham Center Research Institute fielded this survey of 2,365 Gen Z adults (ages 18-28), I doubt they realized the significance of all that would be revealed in the study. Young people are staying away, and for upwards of 40 percent of Gen Z, right-leaning politics are keeping them from a local church.

I can’t help but wonder about the lack of welcome these young people experienced when they did go to the churches they now can’t seem to walk into.

What does it then mean to actually practice radical welcome in the church? What does it mean to create places of belonging, even if we disagree politically, even if (and as) we find ourselves in purple places of worship?

I’d like to think it starts with not bringing politics into the pulpit, but as someone who regularly preaches, I am the first to admit that I have brought the political into the pulpit. I may not have been asking congregants to vote a particular way or support a certain measure, but I have made assumptions about the people in the pews: that they too believe war is bad or that SNAP benefits shouldn’t be taken away from those who are already food-insecure.

Even when I’ve not believed an example from the news cycle political and even if I’ve believed Jesus lives at the center of my justice-filled arguments, my words have not always produced radical welcome.

Just as my words have sometimes been exactly what some people need to hear (particularly in more liberal, left-leaning communities), sometimes my words have done the opposite and driven the most stalwart of more conservative-leaning, red-voting Christians away.

While this is seemingly the opposite point of the aforementioned article, the truth remains that at least 48 percent of Gen Z adults still agree that Christian support of Trump has made them less likely to go to church.

What then does it look like to be a place of welcome?

Perhaps it looks like what happens in practice, in my very own neighborhood: All are welcome, no exceptions to the rule. If you’re hungry, we feed you. If you’re looking for a table, there’s already an extra chair sitting here, ready for you.

Somehow, there’s always enough, even if I can’t quite work out the math of every body getting exactly what it needs.

But here, you are welcome, even if we disagree. Even if there’s a lull in conversation. Even if we don’t quite yet understand how we got to be sitting at the same table in the first place.

Because here, in the most wild and radical of inclusions, you belong.

Love,

Politics and Religion

About Cara Meredith

Cara Meredith is a writer, speaker, and editor who writes at the intersection of spirituality and culture. A former high school English teacher and nonprofit outreach director, her writing has appeared in numerous print and online publications. The author of Church Camp (Broadleaf) and The Color Of Life (Zondervan), she holds a Masters of Theology and lives in Oakland, California with her family. You can read more about the author here.

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