The Village ILWIDIot

Walt Wiltschek

“Boaz went to the town gate and took a seat there. Just then the family redeemer he had mentioned came by, so Boaz called out to him, ‘Come over here and sit down, friend. I want to talk to you.’ So they sat down together.” —Ruth 4:1, NLT

When I’m not doing my half-time district duties, I work at a high school that has a large Latino population. This past month was Hispanic Heritage Month, and a staff member from Puerto Rico shared some thoughts about the theme art created for this year’s observance.

Among the symbols in the design was a group of plastic chairs, the cheap kind you might stack up and then put around your patio when needed. They seem rather unremarkable, and perhaps an odd thing to feature in artwork. She explained, though, that in Puerto Rico and elsewhere they are an important symbol of community.

When people come to visit, you pull out the chairs. When you sit around chatting with others on your street, you sit on those chairs. “They are the chairs we see at family gatherings, birthdays, BBQs, parties, holidays, and gatherings in our neighborhoods,” she wrote. “They may be inexpensive and ordinary, but they represent family, community, connection, and togetherness.” Beyond that, she said, the empty chairs also represent family members and friends who are no longer here, but whose places among us are remembered.

It struck me how the pews and other seats in the places where we hold district conference occupy a similar role for us. They are our places of community and connection, the launching pads for conversation and meals shared around the table, and the reminders of those who are not with us but still carried in our hearts. These seats might hold our bottoms, but they also hold our memories and our reminders of what it means to be church, together.

We hope to see many of you at Polo Nov. 6-7. It’s not too late to register—good seats are still available.