Theological Truth: Because Christ lives, the Church lives—the body of Christ for the life of the world.
“Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”
As you may know, five of us from Trinity (Rebecca Greeley, Kay Buchanan, Kathleen Garcia, Stephanie Otteni, and I) just returned from walking the Camino de Santiago—the thousand-year-old pilgrimage trail that leads to the cathedral in northwest Spain where the body of St. James the Great is believed to be buried. Santiago is the third most visited Christian pilgrimage site in the world, just behind Rome and Jerusalem. Last year 450,000 pilgrims walked the Camino (Spanish for way or road)—some for spiritual reasons, some for sightseeing, but all called by something (or someone?) to walk the way.
This may not surprise you, but Portugal and Spain are filled with churches. Some, like the famous cathedral in Santiago, are historic, ornate, and enormous. Others are simple, roadside chapels offering the opportunity for a weary pilgrim to say a prayer, light a candle, or get out of the rain. But it was another experience of church that awakened my soul and reminded me of the true meaning of “The Church” as the ecclesia—the gathering of the people as the body of Christ given for the life of the world.
This church appeared on the second to last night before reaching Santiago. I had fallen into the company of seven or eight other pilgrims. We were of varying ages, different countries, unknown backgrounds, and undetermined faith traditions. We walked and talked together during the day, one person introducing someone to another, meeting over a coffee stop or a water break, bound by this common destination and shared journey.
As is usually the case on the Camino, people separate during the day due to their individual pace or desire for solitude or need for respite, and then they reconnect in the evening when they gather at a pilgrim hostel. This is where the gathering turned into Church. But first, a word about these pilgrim hostels.
Let’s just say they’re not for everyone. They are usually a room full of bunk beds (and strangers) all sprawled out with all their smelly stuff, all sharing the same facilities. And by “facilities” I mean a kitchen, some form of laundry, possibly a common room, and yes…the bathroom. Like one pilgrim accurately observed, “The first thing you lose on the Camino is modesty.” Pride is a close second.
As a “man of a certain age,” I had avoided these communal accommodations thus far into the trip. But after befriending this disparate group of pilgrims, I decided to stay in this pilgrim hostel with them. It turned out to be a very good decision because what I thought was a hostel turned into Church. Those strangers became friends.
It wasn’t planned and certainly wasn’t my design. The grungy collection of sofas and chairs in the hostel’s tiny common living space served as pews. The beat-up coffee table became an altar. Everyone brought something—a bottle of wine, a loaf of bread, a bag of pistachios from their pack, an emergency pack of M&Ms with peanuts, and most importantly, their undefended, undistracted, unpretentious, authentic selves. Everyone shared what they had for the good of the whole. We talked and laughed. “We ate with glad and generous hearts, praising God (albeit in unconventional ways) and having the goodwill of all the people.” (Acts 2)
We communed around that coffee table and basked in the realization that God’s goodness and mercy does indeed follow us all the days of our lives. We witnessed the truth that God always blesses our generosity and provides for everyone’s needs. We saw a vision of the abundant life offered to us all through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We saw in real life what Brian Wren so beautifully captured in the words of that familiar hymn:
“As Christ breaks bread and bids us share,
Each proud division ends.
The Love that made us, makes us one,
And strangers now are friends.”
(“I Come with Joy,” Hymnal 1982, #304, v.3)
Isn’t this the church experience we are all looking for? The experience of the Divine that we all crave? The Truth that we suspect is out there?
I know there’s constant talk about the demise of the church, the secularization of society, and the diminished place of organized religion. I don’t suggest we turn a blind eye to those statistics, but I do want to tell you that from my experience of the “nones” I met on the Camino (not “nuns” but people when asked about their religious affiliation would reply “None”), there is a burning, yearning, searching, and seeking for the Holy, for the Sacred, for the Love that made us. Jesus, the Good Shepherd and the Gate for all sheep, speaks to this human yearning, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)
This eternal Good News in Christ is good news for the Church. The Church isn’t dead or irrelevant because the world’s needs and God’s desire for our well-being continue. We don’t need to invent a new marketing plan. We don’t need to out-tweet the world of Twitter, or shout over all the shouting, or overpower those abusing or misusing power. We don’t need to be more “of the world,” nor do we need to evacuate from the world.
All we need to do is to be the body of Christ given for the life of the world. We need to devote ourselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. We need to gather regularly, to share generously, to live gratefully. And when we do, then we are the church. The Love that made us, makes us one, and strangers become friends. And the world notices because this is the peace that the world cannot give. And day by day our Lord adds to the number of people being saved, including ourselves.
So good people of God, have no fear for tomorrow or for the Church. The perfect Love of the Good Shepherd knows us each by name, protects us from all harm, provides for our every need, and tears down the barriers that separate us from God and one another. The Love that made us, makes us one. And even strangers become friends.
Alleluia!
— Fr. AJ Heine, Rector, Trinity Episcopal Church of Staunton
Fourth Sunday of Easter, April 30, 2023
Readings: Acts 2:42-47, Psalm 23, 1 Peter 2:19-25, John 10:1-10
