Where do you find community?

When we answer that question it tells us a lot about who we are and what we value.

I was interviewing the outgoing president of our parish's pastoral council, and as she told me what originally drew her to our parish she mentioned that she had many friends there.

"Community; that's what church is all about," she said.

The interview wasn't extensive. It was just a few lines for the parish newsletter on how widely her community had grown since she joined and how much deeper her level of community was. Both of these are important considerations, however.

Catholicism is essentially a communal religion. Sometimes we find ourselves in big, impersonal congregations where we barely know each other. We slide in and out of our pews on Sunday with barely a "howdy" to the folks around. We think of our faith as a private matter, when in fact the essence of Christianity is based on community.

"Spirituality is not a private search for what is highest in oneself but a communal search for the face of God," says Father Ronald Rolheiser in "The Holy Longing."

Father Rolheiser's quote brings to mind the story of the blind men describing an elephant. Each person assumed he could identify the animal based on the part of the body -- the trunk, the tail, the solid front leg -- that he alone could touch. How much more clearly we can see the face of God when we share our experience of God with others.

The focus of our parish mission this year was Eucharist. The speaker emphasized that Eucharist, the source and summit of our faith, is about breaking bread together, becoming Christ for each other, leaving the church to carry Christ to others. Community, this priest said, is established as soon as someone walks in the front door and feels welcomed.

On the mission's first day, as we shared coffee and doughnuts, the priest asked for questions.

"I really dislike it," one woman proclaimed, "when people start talking to each other as they leave their pews after Mass. Why can't they wait to chat until they get to the foyer? The church is God's house."

The priest was gentle with her. He diplomatically explained there are things he also dislikes, such as people leaving Mass early.

I know the woman meant well, and I agree with her that the sanctuary is sacred space. But would the God who loves us not be part of the celebrating of the community as they burst forth into the world?

I love the fact that our parish is comprised of people who know and care for each other, and as they spill out of the pews they begin to greet each other, ask about a parent who is ill or about who won the Friday night football game.

We've all had the misfortune to be in the midst of sullen churchgoers pushing toward the front door of the church so they can get on with their lives. The contrast with a church where community is building is stark.

Community requires effort and an expenditure of time. Over the years, our parish elementary school provided community for me as my children attended and I volunteered. I have also found community in parish committees, especially the one for which I take Holy Communion to the homebound.

When worship at my parish seems dull and brittle, I need to ask if I am making the effort to form community or just going through the motions.

Effie Caldarola, a columnist with Catholic News Service, lives in Anchorage, Alaska.