Perhaps you've had this experience: One day you look into your parent's eyes and suddenly see the family resemblance … wow, we really are kin!
Or, you have become a parent yourself and are completely surprised when as you speak to your own child you recognize your parent's voice, inflection and even point of view. Family resemblance, family connections, the fruits of community.
I recently had a similarly surprising experience during a conversation with a dear friend; the subject was "community." As we spoke I realized that, similar to the biological connection of genes, the Christian person will --- hopefully --- see family resemblances passed along through countless generations and a rich tradition.
What exactly did I mean when I said "Christian community," my friend asked. Did I mean "a community of only Christians to the exclusion of those who are not?" My friend told me this was the more commonly understood meaning of "Christian community."
I knew that was not what I meant, yet I had to peer into the eyes of my parent --- the Judeo-Christian tradition --- to try to unravel the mystery of what "Christian community" meant for me.
First, as a Christian who spent her elementary school years in a Communist country, I grew up living with the reality that "Christian community" was a risky idea.
The Christian community of my childhood extended an invitation to every single person who needed the protection, the care and the love that the anti-community of fear created by totalitarianism denied. The safety of the space within the Church of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel in Havana where I grew up extended to the very dangerous practice of sanctuary, and of welcoming the most destitute.
There was never a question of one's religious commitment before that discretely hidden side door would be opened. The commitment belonged to the people unlatching the door, opening their hearts, sometimes even braving prison.
This is Christian community as understood by John Paul II, when as young Karol Wojtyla he worked to undermine the Nazi occupation of his homeland, saving all those he could. This is Christian community understood as radical, as courageous and as the ultimate example of a creation in which all human beings have been made in the image of God.
Second, for a Christian who has lived in this kind of community, Christian community becomes the paradigm by which all other communities are measured. Once again, it is not a matter of the "who" of a Christian community, but the "what."
What is a Christian community supposed to be like? Not its profession of faith (its orthodoxy), but its very life (its orthopraxy). All throughout the Scriptures we are given stories of making community among the oddest members. There's Noah with all of the animals, sharing meals and a somewhat water-logged home; there's Jonah, living in community with the open sea and a large fish; there's Job, keeping community with the friends who do not understand his suffering.
And then comes Jesus, and the radical nature of a true community of openness becomes incarnated. Jesus makes community with the poor, the sick and even … with the unsavory. It would be one of the charges against him (Matthew 11: 18-19). In Jesus' practice, the community became about the invitation --- "let us share a meal" --- and never about the exclusion --- "not you, you're not good enough" or "you're not one of us."
Implicit in the way he lived was the possibility of transformation --- perhaps sharing this meal will awaken in you that family resemblance, you will remember your worth, your uniqueness, your beauty, and suddenly your old life and the practices that deformed that beauty will not look so good.
Finally then, what did I mean by Christian community? I meant, and I mean, a community that in its very beauty becomes a constant invitation to delight, to celebration and to peace. Whoever its members are, Christians and non-Christians, they all equally bask in the glow of acceptance, of comfort, of recognizing the shared genes of the human race that Scripture poetically expresses as "God created the human being in God's image … male and female, God created them" (Genesis 1: 27).
To this Jesus of Nazareth added, "When you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind…" precisely because of their "inability to repay you." (Luke 14: 13-14). The challenge he posed was intense: They will not be one of you, and you must make community with them precisely because they are not, and because there's nothing in it for you.
Hard, beautiful words, if we dare look into His eyes and search for the family resemblance. Dr. Cecilia González-Andrieu teaches theology at Loyola Marymount University.
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