This is Prudie Phones a Friend, a feature where Jenée Desmond-Harris calls a few experts for their advice to a letter writer. Submit questions to Prudence here. Dear Prudence, I have a 14-year-old son. We are white. His father is a staunch agnostic. I, on the other hand, was a practicing Roman Catholic for a decade and a member of the Baha’i Faith for another decade. I have been extremely disenchanted with organized religion over the last few years, though I maintain a deep spiritual life. My son identifies with his father in almost every way, so I assumed he would turn out atheist. So I was quite surprised when he “came out” to me recently as a believer in Christ. Initially, I was concerned about his exposure to Christian nationalists and cult-like thinking. But the religion he has been most interested in studying, primarily because his best friend is Black, is the Bethel AME church. His friend’s choir had a performance two weeks ago and invited my son. My son was moved by the experience and asked if he could attend services the following week. I want to support and foster his spiritual growth, but I told him I had concerns that coming to services when not invited by a member could be seen as culturally insensitive or appropriating. (I also can’t stop picturing Steve Martin’s character in the movie The Jerk.). Can you help? —Mother of a Modern-Day Navin Johnson Dear Mother of a Modern-Day Navin Johnson, I’ll check my email for a note in which you apologize for sending me to the Wikipedia page of The Jerk. What. The. Hell? I have a lot of blind spots when it comes to popular movies, so I’m probably the only one who escaped being exposed to this apparently beloved film. Maybe it’s better to watch than it is to read about. But just in case any readers missed it, like I did, the movie starts with “​​The white adopted son of Black sharecroppers in Mississippi, Navin grows to adulthood naïvely unaware of these circumstances. He is unable to dance in rhythm to the spirited folk songs played by the family, but finds that he can do so perfectly to a champagne-style song on the radio” and then includes a totally deranged plot and ends with “Once again Navin dances on the porch to folk songs, this time with perfect rhythm.” Now, to be fair, Navin’s character was very much invited to the Black church where he experienced rhythm challenges—he was a member of the family! Still, I get what you mean when you say you can’t stop thinking about Steve Martin’s character. You don’t want your son to appear noticeably out of place when he shows up for services. More importantly, you are sensitive enough to be concerned that his presence could somehow be perceived as disrespectful or detract from the rest of the congregation’s experiences. After all, the fact that churches tend to be racially segregated isn’t random—it’s rooted in anti-Black racism by white people. It’s fair to wonder whether a white person—even a wide-eyed teen who’s excited about his spiritual path—showing up uninvited might change the energy in a way that wouldn’t be appreciated. I had a gut feeling that he would be received with open arms at his friend’s church. However, I didn’t want to lead him astray based on a misguided instinct based on nothing but the idea that Black spaces tend to be warm and welcoming to people from other backgrounds. So I quickly texted my friend Danielle, whose dad and husband are both pastors. Her response: “I think it is totally fine to attend, even uninvited. But, technically, he was already invited by his friend to the choir performance. An invite to a Black church lasts in perpetuity anytime the doors of the church are open.” That sounds pretty official to me, but your kid seems so sweet and sincere, I just had to double-check to make sure he wouldn’t have a negative experience. My next call was to Solomon Missouri, a third-generation Methodist minister who has led congregations through Georgia and North Carolina and is currently the pastor at Invitation AME Zion Church in Snow Hill, North Carolina. His initial response warmed my heart: “What a lovely problem to have.” He went on to say that as a pastor, he completely understands “the concerns of visiting curated spiritual spaces.” However, he confirmed that your son should go for it, explaining, “Worship is sacred and intimate. But the Black church space is a perfect place to engage cultures that may be different from your place of origin. Black faith spaces are energetic, lively, and engaging. If this is Bethel AME that I’m familiar with, they have a prolonged connection to the greater community and have been a historical hub for justice work … So yes, go! Be in community. Touch, taste, feel.” Once again, I wanted to be absolutely sure that your teen would be on solid footing, so I prodded Missouri for any etiquette rules he should know about. “What about his clothes?” I asked. (This could be a personal issue. I grew up going to a predominantly white Catholic church in liberal Northern California, where we wore jeans to mass. I will never forget when, during my first year at Howard University, I was invited to the on-campus chapel, and was told the dress code was “come as you are.” I wore my favorite hemp overalls, a tank top, and a cowry shell necklace. Everyone else was in a suit. I was mortified.) I felt I should make sure your kid didn’t show up in what he wore to his morning soccer game. Beyond that, should he sit in the back to avoid stealing someone’s favorite pew? And he should make sure to go shake the pastor’s hand and say, “Thank you for having me, I enjoyed the service,” right? Missouri’s response to my litany of concerns was basically: Don’t worry about it. “There are spaces for high or more formalized church attire but I would say just come with an open heart,” he said. “He may want to check out the church website. Most churches, even my church, have a greeter who will guide him to a seat and give him an order of service.” I hated that I had this thought, but I also couldn’t help but think of Dylann Roof, the teenage white supremacist who killed nine Black churchgoers at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina, in 2015. I tentatively asked Missouri if people might be scared, suspicious, or worried about your son’s presence. He didn’t deny the resonance of this history and “the overall temperature in the country.” But he said that simply means, “Someone will definitely introduce themselves and check him out. For reasons.” So basically, your son can let the people he encounters take the lead and be assured that they have experience welcoming—and yes, vetting—guests. With this in mind, I do think he should go in with a response in mind to, “Hello, young man! What brings you here?” It can be a short explanation like, “I recently found Christ, and after I saw my friend Jaylen’s choir performance last week, I wanted to come back to church and learn more. He could even add, “My mom wasn’t sure if it was OK for me to be here without an invitation, so she said I should ask.” Because I have a feeling you won’t feel totally comfortable until you hear a “yes.” Classic Prudie I was immature in my early 20s and never finished college. I left with a lot of debt and only about 55 credits. For the last few years (I’m now 29), I’ve been working and making anywhere from $10–12 an hour. My wife graduated nursing school and got her dream job and is making more than double what I was…