Community

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to "live in community." I think this might be one of the few terms within evangelical Christianity that doesn't necessarily qualify as "Christianese," as it's fairly self-explanatory. While a community can be comprised of many different sorts of people, the basic idea is always there. One of the definitions in Webster's is "a unified body of individuals," and that about covers it. The things that unify that body might be different from group to group, or location to location, but there is something that binds the people together in one unit.

I must confess that I was always rather impatient when people talked about "community." I am, or have been, a loner, which means I need plenty of solitude to avoid going crazy. As I've grown older, I've begun to see the importance of community, as well as how it might not look the same at all times, or on all occasions.

This is probably fodder for a completely different post, but I would point out that a person needs more than one community. I have my community of friends online, who are from all over the world, and who know more about me than most of the people I see on a weekly basis. I have my community of friends, my community of fellow law students, my family unit. Each performs a different role, and each is necessary to who I am.

But for the purposes of this post, I'm talking about the Christian community, and this is probably the one I've struggled with most. I haven't always been well treated by the church body, nor have I always fit in. When I first began hearing, "Oh, you need to be in community; it's so important to be part of a body of believers," I was kind of pissed off. I thought that I could get on a lot better by myself.

That might be true, at least at certain times. There is a time for everything, and I do believe that there is a time for solitude; you can learn a lot from loneliness and being alone, and I don't regret those periods of time in my life. But I now find myself part of a group, and I'm discovering that there are many reasons why you do need to be with others who share your beliefs and values.

The standard reasons apply, of course, the ones people talk about all the time (the reasons that made it sound like a chore, rather than something good). "As iron sharpens iron, so one (wo)man sharpens another." It's easier to stay accountable, to do the right thing, knowing that someone will find out about it later. Ideally, they will find out and gently remonstrate with you, rather than making you feel like a pariah, but there's a certain safety in knowing that there are people who will care if you break your promise to yourself, or to God.

Others will say that community is necessary so that you can learn love, which is entirely true. I think that the lesson of how not to kill someone when they get on your last nerve is entirely underrated. Think of how chaotic the world would be if we didn't learn how not to kill one another. Ideally, we also learn acceptance along with tolerance; love instead of indifference; how to actively make peace, rather than fighting.

But one of the lessons I'm learning now, as I fall more deeply in love with my boyfriend, and see how he loves me--the lesson I'm learning through those involved in my Bible study, and watching how they show love to one another--is how God loves us.

It's easy to say that God loves us, but as some are fond of pointing out, love is an action, and it's sometimes difficult to see the love of an invisible God, even when you think about the very physical sacrifice of His Son. That act of atonement occurred two thousand years ago, and the reality of it seems so very far away some days.

If we are created in the image of God, if we carry the imago dei, then we can see God through others' loving actions towards us, however. Standing around tonight, having prayed for a family whose infant nearly died, listening to the mother profess the love she'd seen others pour out on her in a community of faith, I knew I was a witness to God's love. It wasn't just the miracle of new life she was holding, the baby boy who should have died in the womb, it was in the actions of the other members of our group who had cared for her and her family during that difficult time.

In a romantic relationship or even a close friendship, it's knowing that the other person sees you both for who you are, but also for who you were meant to be. The best kinds of relationships, the best sorts of communities, are those--the ones that see you as God created you to be, and continually bring you closer to being that person. Surely Christ is our best example of this, because He saw those around Him for who they were, but He also saw them as they were meant to be. It was for that reason that He could tell Peter that he would betray Christ, not once but three times, and also that Peter would be the rock upon which His church was built.

It is that aspect of community that I think is key--not that we learn to love others as God loved us, although that is very important--but that we catch a glimpse of how God sees us and loves us anyway. For I believe that if we truly knew who we were meant to be, who God created us to be, we might be a lot better at being human.

Palm Sunday

If you know anything about the Christian calendar, you are probably aware that today is Palm Sunday, and that it is the beginning of Holy Week. If you are a Christian and attend a more traditional church, you will likely spend this week recreating the final week of Jesus' earthly life, from his triumphal entry to his resurrection Easter morning. Having never been part of a truly liturgical church, I have generally skipped right from Palm Sunday to Easter without spending much time on Maundy Thursday or Good Friday, and I think that might present something of a problem.

In most churches, Palm Sunday is the day when the children come in, sometimes singing, sometimes not, waving palm branches. Most of them have goofy grins on their faces, happy to be the center of attention for a little while, or perhaps they're happy to have a way to participate in the service. The songs for Palm Sunday services are generally triumphal in tone, mirroring the songs of the people in Jerusalem as Jesus came riding in, singing "Hosanna in the highest."

The irony, of course, is that those who cheered him on, as recorded in the Gospels, were calling for his death just a few short days later. They thought that they were getting a Prophet King who would restore Israel's fortunes and free the people from their Roman oppressors. What they got was a suffering servant, "a man of sorrows, and well acquainted with grief." Even though we should know better now, I sometimes wonder if we don't make the same mistake, believing that if only we pray enough, read our Bibles enough, go to church often enough, Jesus will be the conquering King who frees us from all troubles while we live in this world. In general, especially in less liturgical churches, little attention is paid to Jesus' suffering, except for a quick reference on Easter. And it has been rare to talk about the call to suffer at any other time of the year, except in reference to overcoming it, to triumphing over it.

The hazard of skipping what comes in between Palm Sunday and Easter, in not remembering Maundy Thursday or Good Friday, is that it is all too easy to remember nothing but the triumphal entry and the even more victorious resurrection, while forgetting the suffering that comes in between--the suffering that we, in fact, are promised. We forget that Christ the Lord is also Christ the Servant, and that we are called to bear his image in this world. The promise is not that we will escape suffering here, but that Christ will give us rest, that "a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out." (Isaiah 42:3a). Call me crazy, but if we are meant to reflect his image, shouldn't this be our focus? Oughtn't we to follow in his footsteps, both in accepting suffering as it comes to us, and in comforting those who are currently struggling? (To be fair, I should state that this was something that we discussed in this morning's service in the church I am currently attending.)

In the Book of Common Prayer, the collect for the Sunday of the Passion (Palm Sunday) is as follows: "Almighty and everliving God, in your tender love for the human race you sent your Son our Savior Jesus Christ to take upon him our nature, and to suffer death upon the cross, giving us the example of his great humility: Mercifully grant that we may walk in the way of his suffering, and also share in his resurrection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen."

I am, to be sure, not very good at this. I like being comfortable, and I dislike hurt of any sort, physical or emotional. I certainly have a fear of suffering, which is why I think I shall be praying this particular prayer a lot in the future, and trusting that He will give me the humility and courage to bear whatever may come my way.

Introduction

I have been thinking about creating a blog like this for some time. It is, essentially, a space for thinking out loud about things that I find important, even vital. I have a personal journal online as well, which has essentially replaced the paper journal I kept for years. That kind of blog is not one you can direct people to when you tell them that your hobby is blogging.

It's probably important that you know that I call myself an evangelical Christian, even though I'm not always comfortable with that label; it has such negative connotations in some circles, but I fit the definition as far as orthodoxy and doctrine go. I also call myself a feminist, although I try not to be strident. Politically, I am moderate, and will lean left or right, depending on the day. I love popular culture, even though as a Christian I am called to be in the world but not of it.

My goal here is not to convince anyone that I am right, but merely to think out loud, and perhaps to cause others to think, too.