One Sunday morning 53 years ago, Bob Boston, then pastor of a downtown church, asked the unsuspecting congregation to do a “trust walk” instead of listening to a sermon. I was there. He introduced the exercise with words about accepting our limits of competence and learning to trust other people — themes increasingly pertinent to people in old age, as I’ve come to see.
Then he gave the instructions: pair off, preferably choosing someone you didn’t come in with. One person is without sight (blindfolded), the other person is without speech (must be silent). The silent one guides the blind one on a walk through the churchyard, encumbered with gravestones, trees and other hazards — the blindfolded one having to trust the other who could not speak, only guide, to keep them safe.
After about five minutes the roles are reversed and the walk goes on. Then everyone comes back inside and they talk about their experience. The room buzzed with spirited insights that day.
There was a visitor that Sunday, a lady who had recently moved down from New England. She was not accustomed to such goings-on in church and she did not return. One year later, two things happened.
The lady decided to give the church another try, and Bob decided to do another trust walk. You can guess how that played out. When she walked out of the church, never to be seen again, the lady said to someone at the door, “Is this all you people ever do around here?” My sympathies are with that lady.
Why shoul.
