The first time my friends Macario and Flora had me over for dinner in 2009, I was new to my job as coordinator for the Southeast Keizer Community Center. An initiative of Salem Mennonite Church in Keizer, Ore., the center opens the doors of the church to the community on Friday evenings.

In their small apartment near the church, we spoke mostly Spanish, but their son Marcos, 7, helped resolve any miscommunication while daughter Elizabeth, 4, engaged me with playful giggles.

When I began attending Salem Mennonite in 2005, I was impressed by how the congregation welcomed the stranger. On Friday evenings, the fellowship hall was filled with Hispanic families like Macario and Flora’s, many of them immigrants who mainly spoke Spanish.

Volunteers would greet adults, play with kids and try to maintain a semblance of order in what was often a raucous time. The evening wrapped up with a meal prepared by a volunteer. Attendance averaged around 60 people, sometimes 100 for special occasions.

When I was the coordinator, from 2008 to 2011, I enjoyed getting to know the people. During the week, I would sometimes walk the neighborhood and visit the families, who often invited me inside and served something to eat. People seemed to enjoy the chance to welcome me (a stranger?) into their homes. I learned friendship is built not only by giving but by receiving.

I wanted to blur the line between givers and receivers. On the surface, this was a relatively privileged congregation offering a program to its less privileged neighborhood. People in the congregation were mostly White, with more wealth and social status than those in the neighborhood, many of them immigrants trying to integrate into American life and get a financial footing.

I encouraged people from the church to come on Friday nights without any agenda to “be of help” or to “volunteer” but just be a part of the community and have a good time.

I began enlisting folks from the neighborhood to do some of the tasks — cooking the meal, preparing craft activities or helping to clean up. I learned that people take pride in doing something positive for their community. Giving opportunities to do this is more valuable than doing it for them.

At its peak, the community center consisted of its flagship Friday night program, a tutoring program for grade schoolers, English classes, cultural cooking exchanges and a community garden. Over time, however, the programming shrunk as grant money and volunteers became harder to come by.

I was serving as the center’s board president when the pandemic hit in 2020, and I admit to feeling a little bit relieved that we had to close our doors. I thought it would be nice to have my Fridays free. I wondered if it had been worth the effort to keep things going. Our coordinator resigned and, with no certainty of reopening, we never rehired.

In the summer of 2021, an acquaintance, RJ, began bugging me to get the community center open again. RJ had spent his middle and high school years coming to the center. I had met RJ around the time he was graduating high school and joining the Oregon National Guard. His mom, Korina, who now serves on our board, shared updates about him and showed a mix of pride and concern when he deployed to Iraq.

RJ’s life went down a tumultuous path. But a decade later, here he was, with his life back on track, working for a support group for veterans and telling me how important the community center had been for his family and the neighborhood.

The center reopened in August 2021 with a school-supply giveaway, mostly from supplies RJ and Korina collected. Attendance was small, but we managed to give away most of the donations. Week by week, we were in a bit of a stalemate. We needed more people, but with few volunteers available and public health concerns, we weren’t motivated to advertise broadly. I was discouraged.

Two sisters who lived with their grandma in a small apartment down the road were coming every Friday. It was not uncommon for them to be the only people present from the neighborhood. As we built the bonds of friendship, I realized it was worth being open just for them.

Today, the Salem Mennonite folks who founded the community center in 2000 have mostly moved into retirement homes or have died or are too old to volunteer. Church attendance is lower than it was back then, but many are picking up the mantle left by the previous generation, and Salem Mennonite continues to open its doors every Friday evening. Attendance has slowly rebuilt. At our Christmas party in December, we counted 87 people!

We operate now without any paid staff. We keep going with a few key volunteers and a lot of helpers from the church and the neighborhood.

Thanks to the community center, I’ve made numerous cross-cultural connections that have led to ongoing friendships. I came to cherish those friendships even more deeply when my daughter Norah was born in 2022 and I watched her get passed adoringly around the room. Elizabeth, now 20, babysits Norah every week. It’s a joy to see Norah charming her with the same laughter and playfulness Elizabeth once worked on me.

I’m reminded of a wall hanging from my childhood home: “There are no strangers, only friends you have not yet met.”

Joseph Penner is board president for the Southeast Keizer Community Center and serves on the board of elders for Salem Mennonite Church.