- (theology) the organization and structure of the church, as distinct from sodality or parachurch organizations
‘I can’t believe you talked me into this,’ I told my wife as we pulled into the parking lot.
‘This could be good for us,’ she responded, unbuckling her seatbelt.
The boys were already piling out of the van as I put it in park.
‘How long is this going to take, dear?’ I asked.
She gave me a menacing glare, ‘Until it is over.’
When we walked in the door, we were immediately greeted by the co-worker that had invited my wife.
‘Hi, I’m Marian.’ She shook my hand and my wife introduced the boys. ‘Now, how old are they again?’
‘Ten and seven,’ my wife reminded Marian.
The building was some sort of rec center. The hard wood floor we were standing on was the type used on basketball courts, and there were indeed retractable hoops on either end of the long room. The boys wandered over to one half of the building where a few other kids were shooting hoops.
There were maybe thirty people gathered around an area with tables and chairs. The tables were full of food and drinks. People were standing around the table talking and drinking. There was soft music playing in the background.
A huge man walked up to me with a grin. He was at least 6’ 7” and he looked to be in his early-fifties, balding. He was dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt.
‘Hey, there. The name’s Joe.’
‘You want something to drink?’ Joe asked and led me over to the drink table. There was a little bit of everything. Water, juice, punch, soda, wine and beer. I went to take a beer, but I thought better of it - remembering what I was here for - and I took a bottle of water. Joe noticed and laughed a loud deep rumble. It sounded like a giant’s laugh.
‘Aw, hell’ he said, ‘have a brewski, pal.’ He grabbed a bottle, popped the top for me, and handed the beer to me. ‘Cheers, my friend’
I noticed he wasn’t drinking anything and I offered to return the favor.
‘Naw, thanks, man.’ Joe waved me off with a smile. ‘I been sober for six years, and I’d like to keep the streak rollin! I’ll just drink the kiddo’s juice!’ He let out another giant’s laugh.
‘Who are you bothering now, Joe?’ A younger and much shorter man walked up to us and shook my hand. ‘I’m Roderick. Welcome. Ever been to something like this before?’
‘I’m not even sure what this is.’ Both men laughed at my honest response.
Everyone was called to the table and the meal began. There was an enormous amount of food, which had been brought by everyone. The conversation was lively and I was having a decent time, despite myself.
At some point during the meal, wine glasses were distributed, and an older lady named Marcella stood up and got the groups attention. Everyone fell silent as she filled her glass.
‘Our Lord Jesus Christ,’ she said, looking around the group, ‘on the night when he was betrayed, took the bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples and said, Take; eat; this is my body which is given for you.’ She broke a loaf of bread at this point, and passed one half to a person on her left and the other half to a person on her right. ‘Do this in remembrance of me.’
Now she lifted her glass of wine. ‘In the same way he also took the cup after the supper, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them saying, Drink of it, all of you. This cup is the New Testament in my blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’
We drank. She spoke again, ‘We believe that communing with one another is a divine sacrament. We believe that God is present when we provide for one another and enjoy each other's company. May the salvation that fills our stomachs, fill our hearts, and our families, and our world.’ She, then gestured to the half-finished feast, smiled and said, ‘the gifts of God for the people of God!’
The silence then broke as people filled glasses and resumed conversations. I was dumbfounded, and completely overwhelmed. What was happening here? It was all so wild and different, and awkward.
The meal broke up in full force as groups of people walked away from the tables to do certain things. Some set up a circle of chairs, others tinkered with musical instruments, while another set up what looked like a kids area. yet another group of people busied themselves in clearing the tables.
My wife and I naturally gravitated over to the seating area. The kids were once again off shooting baskets.
‘So,’ I whispered to my wife ‘are we supposed to like leave now?’ Her glare was all the answer I needed.
Someone came up and gave us a small booklet of papers. ‘Liturgy Sheet’ it said at the top. Several musicians sat in the middle of a circle of chairs. People started to sit down in the chairs as the musicians began to play. But, we were soon back up on our feet as the band tore into a catchy old Motown song. People were clapping and dancing. Even our boys were having fun. The Motown song faded into a more recent pop song and then a funky version of a Beatles tune.
The band was really incredible, and despite myself, I was impressed and having fun. The band finally took a break to applause, and everybody grabbed a seat. Two people moved to the middle of the circle and sat on a pair of stools there. They could not have been more different. One was the older woman who had presided over the breaking of the bread, the other was Roderick. Roderick was beaming and fidgeting like a kid eager to get to his toys. The lady was stately and calm, looking over the group, donning a slight smile, that almost seemed like a grimace.
Roderick slapped his thigh and pointed toward the band, ‘Man that was hot! Let’s give it up one more time for the band.’
We all clapped and turned our attention back to the oddly matched couple in the middle.
Roderick laughed and held up his hands, ‘I solemnly promise all of you, they will back a little bit later!’ More applause. Roderick turned to the lady with him. ‘Marcella, I am so excited about our topic tonight. Are you pumped or what?’
‘Well,’ Marcella responded slowly, ‘I think that this is a challenging and potentially edifying conversation for any spiritual person, but like most things that are good for us, it is not going to be easy. If you look to your Liturgy Sheet, you will please notice our Statement of Welcome.’
Roderick took over now and read through the welcome statement. He looked like he was going to cry at times as he read the short statement. The statement testified to the church’s commitment to people of all walks, all backgrounds, all perspectives, and all faiths. ‘We believe that we are seeking the truth, and we believe the truth is seeking us.’
‘But, my friends,’ Marcella broke in here, ‘there is no monopoly on truth, and we should humbly act thus in our interactions one with another. Let all we do here today, be done with love one for another. Let us pray.’
Roderick led the group in a responsive prayer that was written in the liturgy sheet and then he and Marcella broke into the topic for the day. A passage of scripture was printed in the Liturgy Sheet and they started by reading the text and offering a small amount of context and background for the passage.
At this point, they called on a few other people, who stood. These were the children’s ministers. Roderick and Marcella peppered them with questions about how they would be teaching this topic to the kids. The children’s ministers gave a rough outline of some of the things that they were going to be talking to the kids about, and they also demonstrated some of the activities that would be utilized. The children were then invited to follow them to a different part of the building for their own special programming.
While they were both gracious and deferential while discussing the topic, it was very clear that they disagreed on the topic, and it was an old disagreement for them. One of them would present an opinion, the other would kindly disagree and over the course of their conversation, they dug deeper and deeper into the topic. Within the depths of their conversing, they were constantly turning to the rest of the group and offering explanations, examples, and illustrations for their points. Also, they consistently kept attempting to educate the group about difficult areas or unfamiliar terminology.
There were times that I had difficulty keeping up with what they were talking about. There were other times that I felt like I was genuinely learning something. From time to time I agreed with Marcella. Other times, I found myself agreeing with Roderick. Despite myself, I was utterly engaged. I started thinking about the passage and wondering what it all meant to me. What did it mean to my life and my family?
I wasn’t the only one engaged in the topic. From time to time Roderick or Marcella would engage members of the group or ask questions of us, expecting an answer. Things never got too crazy, but they could get tense at times. They also kept referencing other conversations members of the group had had about the topic previously. For instance, someone would mention a ‘pub group,’ or a book group. I got the feeling that the conversation that Roderick and Marcella were having, was only part of a larger conversation.
Then, before I knew it, they were done. Marcella called the band back up and invited the group to offer up silent prayers and meditations that pertained to the topic. While we prayed, the band members played a soft, contemplative song. It was an intoxicating mix of music and quiet.
I could only think of one thing:
My daughter.
My wife seemed to sense what I was thinking, or maybe she was thinking about her, too. She grabbed my hand and we stood together, there, silent.
The music started picking up after a while, and we all started singing an old hymn that I remembered from my childhood. After several verses of the hymn, Roderick returned to the middle.
‘Thanks, everybody, for joining us. But, I want to invite you to stick around. The conversation is just beginning.’
After a brief prayer, the band broke back into Motown. We were all back on our feet, clapping and singing. I saw our boys come back in the room. They were met by Roderick and Marcella, who had all the children sit in a circle with them. The kids all had something that looked like paper mache creations. Marian and my wife headed over to sit with the children. I went to follow when I was stopped by Joe the Giant.
‘You seem like a man who enjoys a good cigar,’ Joe announced. ‘Come with me.’
I had never refused a giant before, so I followed Joe to a back door that opened onto a small patio. Four men were sitting on lawn chairs, lighting cigars and pouring what looked to be scotch. Someone mentioned something Roderick had said earlier, and the conversation revved up all over again.
It was fascinating to listen to them. The thoughts flowed freely, and the give and take could be informative or funny. I enjoyed the aromas of the cigars and the scotch was making my head swim. Tears came to my eyes. I stared at the ground between my feet.
‘Why in the world,’ someone asked, ‘would God do that? Why would he say one thing and then do another? How does that help?’
‘She loved tacos,’ I suddenly blurted out. THere was an awkward silence followed by some chuckling.
Joe put a hand on my shoulder, ‘Scotch hittin’ ya kinda hard, buddy?’
What was I saying? For some reason, I couldn’t stop. ‘I mean, she would start jumping up and down and laughing at the mere mention of tacos for dinner.’ I had to wipe my face. It was soaked. ‘She would have been five years old next month, but she never made it past three.’
I paused, took a puff of my cigar. ‘I quit praying when she stopped breathing.’
I couldn’t stop. I felt like a fool. It seemed like I was outside of my body saying things to these random strangers that I had not said to anyone else. ‘Why would I depend on God now,’ I asked, ‘when he wasn’t there for me when I needed him most?’
I stared back at the ground and wiped my face again. Nobody said anything for a long time.
‘Well,’ a blonde haired man offered, ‘that is what we call “faith”.’ There was a round of guffawing and groaning. Some of the men looked downright angry.
‘Aw, Dan, shut up,’ Joe boomed. ‘That’s a stupid thing to say.’
Dan got defensive. ‘Well, what the hell am I supposed to say?’
‘You don’t say nothin.’ Joe suddenly put his arms around me in a monstrous embrace. ‘I’m so sorry, man.’
I almost started laughing when I realized that he was literally picking me up off the ground. But, I couldn’t laugh because I could feel his wet tears on my neck as he sat there hugging me and weeping. But, I could only take so much.
‘Joe,’ I gasped, ‘I have two other kids, so I really need to breathe.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ Joe released me finally. The rest of the men offered condolences and started talking about various friends or family members that had been taken too soon and the effects of losing them.
I felt like I could breathe again. Not only because Joe’s massive bear hug was over, but also because I felt like I had released something deep inside of me.
Back in the van, my youngest son almost immediately fell to sleep, while my oldest messed around with the paper mache creation he had constructed. My wife had taken the keys and the wheel. I watched her drive. She looked over and asked, ‘Well, what did you think? Are we going back?’
‘We’ll see.’
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