Body of Christ

One of the biggest things I learned from my time away from the church in general and my church in particular is that I do have a place there and that people care whether I'm there or not. My entire experience has been of people not just willing but apparently eager to accept me on every part of this journey. When I've posted notes about my religious struggles on Facebook, someone from the church was always there to share ideas, tell me that I still belong, or just click “Like” so that I knew I'd been heard. (Not to neglect friends from other walks of life who have also been very supportive – if you're reading, I love you too!)

When I shared uncertainties about my personal life with the women in the church book group, I was again overwhelmingly told that I'm still welcome and that, agree or disagree, they'd still be happy to share the Eucharist with me. Even when that book group was my only connection to the church, I always felt welcome to be there, and welcome to return to church, but never as if I was less accepted for being away.

And every time I went back to church on a Sunday morning, there was always someone (besides clergy) saying it was good to see me, they'd missed me, where had I been. But, just as importantly, never with a scolding tone, never with a sense of what's wrong with you, why aren't you doing your duty? One of the major turning points for me was a couple weeks before Christmas at the 11:00 service, a woman whose face was familiar but whose name I didn't recall greeted me by name and said she'd missed seeing me in church. Besides feeling ashamed that I didn't know her name when she cared enough to know mine, I realized much more strongly that this church was a place where I belonged. Whether I understand it or not, my presence there matters.

Of course, that isn't unique to me. One of the central ideas that makes Christianity at its best different from our culture at its low-average to worst is the idea that everyone does matter. And not just that everyone ought to have their basic needs met and that we should feed the hungry and so forth – though that is also very important – but that everyone has value and adds to the community. Someone you serve casserole to at the homeless shelter is also someone whose voice and presence would add to worship on Sunday and who should be welcomed there as an equal, not as a supplicant – or at least, not any more as a supplicant than all of us are before God. And at my church, I see that lived – not always as thoroughly as I might wish for – I would love to see more shared worship between the “regular” Sunday congregation and the folks at the shelter next door – but at least consistently when the opportunity presents itself. And I've gotten well off topic, and some of this material would make for parts of a whole 'nother post, so dragging my train of thought back....

I don't know if I so much believe that the church is the body of Christ as I depend on it. I don't have much sense of a “personal relationship with Jesus” (again, a topic for another day). The Christ I see is the church in a very concrete sense.