The Heads of the Brethren

It's not a secret to anyone who knows me is that I love me some church.  I've always been a social being, seeded by God and then watered vigorously by my mother and my family.  Despite the many times I wanted to sit in a dark theater and extract the meaning of life from the latest art-house movie, I was not built for being alone.  This is the truth of all of God's people, saved or unsaved.  He didn't bring us into the world so we could live alone.  Even Adam was placed in the Garden, and it wasn't one verse later that God gave him a companion.  "It is not good for a man to be alone."

Growing up, the socialness (Google chrome is reminded me this must be a misspelled word, my poet side of me is proud nonetheless) of church was always something I looked forward to.  The mingling in the lobby (which we didn't do very often as we always seemed to be running in late), the waving in the parking lot, the breakfast tacos after service.  We typically sat in the same area, which gave us a good vantage view of those around us and those that weren't there that Sunday from a long night of drinking on Saturday. I enjoyed the same vantage view of Father Piguero, his thick Cuban accent when he made the congregation say "Good morning" twice since the first wasn't sufficient, each Sunday.  Anytime we sat someplace different, the entire feel of church somehow lost its flavor.  New kids turned in their pews to stare at you--and there's something about Catholic kids that makes them stare even more so that Protestant kids I think.  Father Piguero's smile was somehow different when seen over the heads of the brethren in the cheap seats.

So yeah, I guess you figured by now that I am one of those that sits in the same spot at my local church.  I park pretty much in the same area, except on the days the line for coffee is long or it's been a long morning getting the kids ready.  I enjoy seeing many of the same faces at church.  I give the typical 3-handed back slap hug to my man friends, I kiss the cheeks better than Richard Dawson back in the days of corduroy jackets.  On sunny days, the sun will sometimes glare through the observation tower, seemingly giving me a glowing sanctification to go forward the next week and do something.

After church we have the same ritual.  Herd the kids to the cookie table (we try to avoid the drinks because one of our kids always spills it or never drinks the one last swallow), mingle with "our" crowd at the end of the steps leading up to the classrooms.  Perhaps I have been in a clique all this time.  I've known it, but there's something about the word clique that has a sense of 1980's era getting-bullied-in-junior-high feel to it.  Then I read this blog.

Had I been this kind of parishioner?  Unwittingly or consciously?  My wife and I sat and talked about for a few minutes, one of those shooshing kids out of the room talks (those are the good ones).  We talked about people on the fringe (and I don't mean the wallflowers of church who feel lonely, but those on the fringes of our social bubble), people we've not really met, people we've stopped talking to.

Being a host and outward attention seeker (yeah, that's me) my wife and I have typically fallen victim to the curse of the clique.  When out daughter played softball we tried in vain to get admitted into the right team, to know the right coach and to hang out with the popular crowd, which in softball were those that talked the most trash and seemed to know the most.  We wanted into the douche bag crowd and were proud of it.

Those efforts prove fruitless.  A year or so ago one of the retired coaches and I bumped into one another at some social event.  I don't even think we shared pleasantries.

At our church there are groups among groups.  The men's choir, the praise band, the youth group, the Emmaus gathering crowd, the lady volunteers with their faces of steel and arms of iron, those that work in the nursery and those that lead classes on Wednesdays.  There's a group that helps with the younger kids, the middle schoolers, the high school and even the college kids.  We have Life Groups, where more groups are made.  Inherently the Life Groups are a way to enhance the call of grace in our lives.  It's a way to strengthen ties.  The group I am in has helped me grow spiritually over the last year or so, and I've met some great friends that are helping me walk through the threshold of being a baby christian to a disciple.

With that being said, we have drama within the group too.  Faces we don't see very often and some have stopped coming altogether.  Within this clique mentality, there is some truth to the article.  I've been so busy attracting the right kind of people to surround myself around that I lost sight of those right in front of me.  I have my excuses.  Attendance to life matters to me. It always hasn't, that's true of me to.  If one is to share life one must be in active membership.  How can I get to know you when you're not around?  True, our group is large enough that I haven't met everyone equally.  Maybe that's a failing of all Life Groups, all parties or all clubs--it can only be so big before it ruptures over.

Up to this point I haven't had much sympathy for those that haven't been around.  It's selective and that, in essence is judgmental.  I let go baseball commitments and those that I know personally.  Others?  Not so much.  I can see now that this is the same in church is well.  I don't see someone for a while and it doesn't faze me.  I might wonder aloud during lunch, "Have you seen such and such?" and then the thought fades with the next bite.  Some couples we've found out have even gone to new churches.  I sometimes look at my feet to make sure the grass is still green.

I'm not sure what the answer is.  Good intentions are nothing without action.  Is it pride that keeps my fingers from texting that one person God needs me to reach out to?  Stubbornness?  What does God think when I answer him in this tone, "Why am I always the one to make the first move?"

Maybe I am too busy being part of the it crowd.  I love the place I'm in currently and the great people in my life.  The same thing that attracted me to them is perhaps someone else's reason to keep up a wall.  Perhaps I can slow down long enough to look back every once in a while.  See the view from above.