The Body of Christ

This weekend I attended a workshop on facilitation, given by personnel from the service office of the Lutheran church in Argentina and Uruguay. I work regularly with some of these folks, and I know that they are quality people who do quality work. Nevertheless, I was still surprised at just how well this event was done, from the morning reflections all the way to the evening barbecues and singalongs--and everything in between.

In some ways, the content was nothing new: we talked about things I've been studying for years (democracy, individual vs. community, empowerment, etc). But what was new was talking about it in a church setting. Suddenly, 'individuals' become children of God, 'community' is the body of Christ, and 'empowerment' recognizes every person's spiritual gifts and ability to co-create the body. And unlike most of the political revolutions I read about in college, there was an overarching understanding that none of this is possible without the love of God, the unity of Christ, and the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. That is precisely what made the weekend so exciting--we were talking about a bona fide revolution!

Our workshop was based on Ephesians 4, in which Paul uses the 'Body of Christ' to talk about how we are to build the church community:

'Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.' (verses 15-16)

On the last day of the conference, we closed by sharing the Lord's Supper together. As we served each other bread and wine, I was struck by the simple beauty of this timeless sacrament, which extends throughout the world and still holds the same significance now as it did the first time that Jesus celebrated it with His disciples 2000 years ago. Even today--in the imagery of D.T. Niles--we continue to encounter each other as beggars, our hands cupped, asking each other where to find the Bread of Life.

Her smile made me smile

On Friday night I was teaching the first communion class about the story of the Good Samaritan. I like it when kids identify with what they're learning, so I asked them to draw a picture of when they felt or would feel alone (just like the injured man in the story).

The kids set to work, and after I had finished my picture (a stick-figure version of me falling off my bike this summer in Saint Paul), I started making the rounds. I saw pictures of walking alone on a road at night, of swimming alone, and even being locked in the bathroom. And then I came to a girl, about nine years old, who hadn't drawn anything yet.

"I can't think of anything," she told me.

"That's fine," I told her, "You can make something up. I can tell you're a creative person."

I kept moving around the room, admiring everyone's work. I had all but forgotten about what I had said to Cielo, when I felt a tug on my sleeve. There she was, with a quizzical look on her face.

"I have a question," she said. "How did you know that I'm a creative person?"

"Because I can see the sparkle of creativity in your eyes," I said, hoping it wouldn't sound too cheesy.

"Gracias," she said, her wide smile telling me that I'd made her night.

Again after class, right as she was leaving, she asked me: "What was it that you could see in my eyes?"

"The sparkle of creativity," I told her.

"The sparkle of creativity," she repeated back to herself, as though she wanted to remember it forever.

"Gracias," she said again, and went to meet her parents, who were waiting for her just outside the gate. As they walked away from the church, Cielo turned back and waved to me. Still smiling.