Community care
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
May 5, 2019
Yesterday I heard the news of the loss of two spiritual teachers, giants each in their own way: author Rachel Held Evans and retired UCC pastor David Norling.
Rachel is what is called an ex-vangelical: she was raised a Christian in the evangelical tradition but left those roots, eventually coming to the Episcopal Church, with doubts, honest questions, an evolving faith, and an advocate for feminism, intersectionality, racial equality, and LGBTQ rights.
David Norling was my pastor from when I was 10 years old, who helped me through a rough adolescence (sounds redundant, doesn’t it?) and encouraged in me a call to ministry. He was a passionate preacher with a heart for social justice and Boston College basketball.
When our spiritual heroes and friends die, especially those whom we love and are close to, it reminds us of our own mortality, how vulnerable we all are. We’ve just come through Lent, which tells us that we are all dust and to dust we all will return. Death is a part of life and yet experiencing a loss can feel like we’ve come unmoored, as if we have tethers gently holding us in place and now a few more have come undone.
Like astronaut Bruce McCandless who, 35 years ago, hovered 186 miles above the earth with only his Manned Maneuvering Unit, it can feel like the only things connecting us are what we have within our grasp: communication; a view of the world around us; people, our tribe, our community holding us in their hearts; something that gives us some security, helps us feel like we can get from point A to point B; and trust that this is enough.
So we can imagine that Peter and the other disciples are probably having similar feelings, uncertain of their future, disconnected from purpose and a sense of belonging to something greater than themselves. Especially Peter, living with the shame of denial and desertion. So they return to what is familiar, to fishing and water and the smell of the air and working with their hands and the comfort of being together with people so close, words are not necessary.
What feeds your soul, your spirit? What helps you feel connected? I asked those questions on Facebook and once again, there were not only numerous comments but people responded to other comments, being found in the creating of community and connection.
Many people said music and nature. Others replied animals, especially their unconditional love for us. Some folks answered being with other people, especially serving others in any number of ways.
Self-care is a foundational spiritual practice but when it becomes our main source of care, it can begin to feel like “God helps those who help themselves”, which isn’t biblical or caring. Which is why we also need equal amount of another foundational spiritual practice: community care. Not only responding to community needs for care but the ongoing, regular practice of caring for community. We feed our spirits by being with and serving our tribe, and we are found in the creating of community and connection. And so Jesus says to Peter, “Feed and tend my sheep”, restoring Peter to discipleship, to belonging and community.
Rachel wrote in her book, Searching for Sunday, “This is what God’s kingdom is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said ‘yes’. And there’s always room for more.” Whenever David Norling served communion to those who served the congregation, or to confirmands or to youth and advisors on a retreat, he would say their first name with the words “The body of Christ broken for you”, and he made sure he was always served last. We are the Body of Christ and individual members of it but always a unique whole, the one Body. God in Community, Holy in One.
This Table, the family table, the kitchen table, the picnic table, Dining for Women tables, Hope Dining Room and Code Purple tables, reception tables, the potluck table, tables pushed together and meals shared, tether us and connect us to something larger than ourselves and our hunger. It’s more than what feeds us, but what feeds everyone.
When David and I visited the Harmandir Sahib or the Golden Temple in Amritsar, in the Indian state of Punjab near the Pakistani border, we were given a tour of the community kitchen or langar that serves a free meal to up to 100,000 people a day—all faiths, all backgrounds, everyone is welcome, no matter who you are. Every Sikh gurdwara provides a free meal after worship. Our Sikh guide told us that they do not call this community service but service to humanity.
When we care for and feed each other, it is not only a service we give to each other, but service to humanity. “Feed my sheep”, Jesus said. Just as we gather and celebrate at this Table every month, I’d like to see us form a monthly spiritual practice of eating a sit-down meal together after worship. A time when we can talk to each other, listen, laugh, feed each other’s spirits, invite others to join us, to be in solidarity with all who hunger for justice, acceptance, belonging, connection.
There’s an old story of heaven and hell, in which both places have the same conditions. Everyone is seated at a table with a large pot of stew in the center of the table. Everyone has a large wooden spoon about the size of a yardstick. The difference? In hell there is great suffering because everyone is starving as they try to feed themselves. In heaven there is great joy because everyone feeds everyone else and all are fed, all are satisfied. Our culture can often be a living hell, everyone out for themselves, fearful of scarcity. The Church is called to be heaven on earth, humanity is interconnected, with abundance not just for ourselves but for everyone.
Let’s eat, Church, let’s eat, that we may be fed so we can love this world.
Amen.
Benediction – © enfleshed 2019
Jesus sends us from this place
To feed and to be fed
To tend and be tended to
To be in solidarity with one another
And to invite others into solidarity with us.
May we go in the assurance that just as God goes with us,
so too does grace.
Today and always.
Amen.
May 5, 2019
 |
| The Great Catch by John August Swanson |
Yesterday I heard the news of the loss of two spiritual teachers, giants each in their own way: author Rachel Held Evans and retired UCC pastor David Norling.
 |
| David and Priscilla Norling |
David Norling was my pastor from when I was 10 years old, who helped me through a rough adolescence (sounds redundant, doesn’t it?) and encouraged in me a call to ministry. He was a passionate preacher with a heart for social justice and Boston College basketball.
When our spiritual heroes and friends die, especially those whom we love and are close to, it reminds us of our own mortality, how vulnerable we all are. We’ve just come through Lent, which tells us that we are all dust and to dust we all will return. Death is a part of life and yet experiencing a loss can feel like we’ve come unmoored, as if we have tethers gently holding us in place and now a few more have come undone.
So we can imagine that Peter and the other disciples are probably having similar feelings, uncertain of their future, disconnected from purpose and a sense of belonging to something greater than themselves. Especially Peter, living with the shame of denial and desertion. So they return to what is familiar, to fishing and water and the smell of the air and working with their hands and the comfort of being together with people so close, words are not necessary.
What feeds your soul, your spirit? What helps you feel connected? I asked those questions on Facebook and once again, there were not only numerous comments but people responded to other comments, being found in the creating of community and connection.
Many people said music and nature. Others replied animals, especially their unconditional love for us. Some folks answered being with other people, especially serving others in any number of ways.
Self-care is a foundational spiritual practice but when it becomes our main source of care, it can begin to feel like “God helps those who help themselves”, which isn’t biblical or caring. Which is why we also need equal amount of another foundational spiritual practice: community care. Not only responding to community needs for care but the ongoing, regular practice of caring for community. We feed our spirits by being with and serving our tribe, and we are found in the creating of community and connection. And so Jesus says to Peter, “Feed and tend my sheep”, restoring Peter to discipleship, to belonging and community.
 |
| The Best Supper by Jan Richardson |
When David and I visited the Harmandir Sahib or the Golden Temple in Amritsar, in the Indian state of Punjab near the Pakistani border, we were given a tour of the community kitchen or langar that serves a free meal to up to 100,000 people a day—all faiths, all backgrounds, everyone is welcome, no matter who you are. Every Sikh gurdwara provides a free meal after worship. Our Sikh guide told us that they do not call this community service but service to humanity.
 |
| Spoon Hell by Stuart McMillen |
There’s an old story of heaven and hell, in which both places have the same conditions. Everyone is seated at a table with a large pot of stew in the center of the table. Everyone has a large wooden spoon about the size of a yardstick. The difference? In hell there is great suffering because everyone is starving as they try to feed themselves. In heaven there is great joy because everyone feeds everyone else and all are fed, all are satisfied. Our culture can often be a living hell, everyone out for themselves, fearful of scarcity. The Church is called to be heaven on earth, humanity is interconnected, with abundance not just for ourselves but for everyone.
 |
| Spoon Heaven by Stuart McMillen |
Let’s eat, Church, let’s eat, that we may be fed so we can love this world.
Amen.
Benediction – © enfleshed 2019
Jesus sends us from this place
To feed and to be fed
To tend and be tended to
To be in solidarity with one another
And to invite others into solidarity with us.
May we go in the assurance that just as God goes with us,
so too does grace.
Today and always.
Amen.
Comments
Post a Comment