All are welcome in this place

There's a hymn with lyrics by Marty Haugen that we sing sometimes at Mass for which the lyrics of the last verse (which, being Catholic, we never get to) are: 

Let us build a house where all are named,

their songs and visions heard

and loved and treasured, taught and claimed

as words within the Word.

Built of tears and cries and laughter,

prayers of faith and songs of grace,

let this house proclaim from floor to rafter.

All are welcome, all are welcome,

all are welcome in this place.

It rang through my head as I walked this Friday past the Mission Chapel on Summer Street in Worcester and took the above photo, which seemed rather a metaphor to me. 
How well are we maintaining all being welcome?

It continues to be something I question on how well we in Worcester do as a city: a city which prides itself on welcoming immigrants and numbers of languages spoken, but which too often denies there is any work to be done on inequities by race or ethnicity or language; a city of neighborhoods, where a neighborhood can be a benefit or a barrier; a city where both the shiny new buildings downtown and the shiny new ballpark going up absorb attention and resources but are and will be out of reach for many.

Are all welcome? 

The Worcester School Committee voted 6-1 again this past week to move forward with athletics, and by our code of ethics, that means I'll work to make it work, though I was the vote against it. That means asking how students are to get to practice and to events without cars, and asking if they have enough time to use public transit, and asking how this is constructed so as to make all welcome.

Are all welcome? 

As with much else, the pandemic is of course only making the inequities that already existed worse. If we are truly systems that serve all--which, as rocky as the history of public schools has been and as uneven as it continues to be, is the charge of public schools in the United States--we have to start with that question. It is much more difficult to troubleshoot and run circles to fix issues after the fact. We need to be constructing whatever it is we do from the perspective of those who might struggle the most.
Online school? How does it work for the family with no internet at home, no adult familiar with technology, no adult in the house comfortable speaking in English?
Attendance? How does it work for the family in which all adults have to be at work during the day and the children are left on their own, and no one can ensure they've logged in at particular times?
Food? How does it work if the family has no car, no one free during the day, and there isn't a safe way to walk?
Special education? How does it work for a student who can't engage through a screen? 
And on an don...

In all our decisions, what are the ways in which structural inequities create additional obstacles for some students and their families that aren't there for others?

This is not, of course, just a Worcester thing.
Too often, though, we seem to start from the child who is, at this point in Worcester, least common: we assume a white middle class kid with two parents at home who have flexibility to be at their beck and call with access to cars and food and internet and computers. 
That simply isn't most of our kids.

We need to be constructing and reconstructing our systems to serve those who most need it.
Until we do, all won't truly be welcome in this place.