Where Is God And Who Is Church For?

Two of our lectors at Spiritus, Tanya and Rico, often start their readings by acknowledging the people who are present by saying, “Good morning, church!” I love that. Over the years, I have come to learn that this is a bit more common outside of Catholic circles.

Growing up Catholic, the people in the pews were not referred to as “church” even though the official Catholic church acknowledges that the people of God are “the church.” It may have been unique to my parish community, but I’m guessing that not a lot of Catholics heard themselves addressed as “church.” As a result, I associated the word “church” more with the building itself.

This had huge and lasting implications for me when I thought of the question, “Where is God?”

We see and feel this tension in today’s readings.

In the first reading from 1 Kings 8, King Solomon has assembled all of the people at the massive temple in Jerusalem that he had built to honor God. The ark that contained the tablets of the ten commandments (which had formerly been mobile and housed under a tent) and the cloud of God’s presence that accompanied it would find their permanent home in this temple. The Hebrew word shekinah means dwelling place or abiding presence, and the temple was not only meant to be the physical reminder of God’s abiding love for the people – it was the place where God was (literal shekinah).

[Note: The innermost sanctum where the ark was placed and the cloud came to rest was only allowed to be visited by the male high priest once each year on Yom Kippur. Unauthorized or improper entry – even by the priest – could result in death! So it’s not like anyone could just pop in and visit God!]

A lot of us grew up, however, with remnants of this theology. God was somehow especially “located” at church, and, thus, we were to have a certain reverence in that building. We had to dress and act differently there because it was a “holy” place.

While there is a lot about this that I understand, it may have also had some unintended negative effects on us over the years. We came to see God in one place and failed to recognize God in other places (like the natural world) or in the faces of one another. Some places were deemed “holy” or sacred while others were “profane” (from the Latin meaning “outside the temple”). Some people were deemed holy and some were not.

What have your experiences been? Has your answer to the question, “Where is God?” changed over time? How would you answer that now?

In the gospel reading from Mark 6, Jesus is on the move and crosses the lake to arrive at Gennesaret. The reading tells us that he is “immediately recognized” and the people “began to bring in the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was…”  People were desperate for healing, and somehow, their traditional religious practices were not providing what they needed. So they sought out Jesus who was making himself available to them in their own contexts.

In so many Christian faith circles these days, I know that many leaders and members lament and ask, “Why don’t people come to church?” And yet someone like Jesus might turn the question on its head and ask, “Why doesn’t the church go to the people?”

My guess is that Jesus knew that the living presence of God was not restricted to a specific place but was, instead, located in the people and located in the world. Moreover, God was especially present to those who were considered “the least” in the world’s eyes.

And so another question that emerges for me out of today’s reading is, “Who or what is church for?” I wonder how you would answer that question and how your answer may have changed over time?

Someone who has deeply shaped my current understandings is the poet, mystic and Catholic laywoman, Edwina Gateley.

She tells a story from her work in Chicago with sex workers and the house she founded there for women trying to get off the streets. One night around 11pm, she was walking home and saw a group of 5 women across the street sitting on the church steps (the church was locked and would generally not make itself available to the needs of these women). They yelled over at her, “Hey come join us, we’re having a picnic.” She walked over, and they had a half bottle of ginger ale and a box of donuts. The woman who invited her poured the ginger ale into 6 Styrofoam cups. She kept saying, “There’s enough for everybody. There’s enough for everybody.” Then she took out a donut and she broke it and she said again, “There’s enough for everybody.”

Edwina often tells stories of “communion” in unexpected places, and frequently identifies how it is those who have been excluded who teach her so much about what it means to be “church” to each other (and where we are called to be church in the world). 

She, like so many great mystics and teachers, reminds us that there are temples everywhere, and that God is not contained in a specific place (or group of people). Our God is so much bigger than that, and Jesus clearly demonstrated this in his life and ministry.

For today, I would encourage us to reflect more deeply on where we find God (and where else we could find God), who church is for (and what church should be doing in the world) and who are our teachers who help us truly see what church might be in the world.

If what we’re doing on Sundays (or any other times we might be in church) does not help us see communion in ginger ale and donuts, doesn’t help us see God’s chosen people everywhere and altars all around us, we may need to realign our spirituality.