Every December, members of our parish visit assisted living and nursing homes to sing Christmas carols to the residents. And every time we sing, one resident always declares loudly to anyone within hearing range, “They’re from my church.”
Her declaration is usually met with tolerant smiles from the other residents, and quizzical looks from parishioners. And sooner or later someone will whisper in my ear, “Am I supposed to know her?” No. This is not some dearly-beloved pillar of the church, forced from her usual pew by circumstance. This is someone who rarely, if ever, went to church, someone whose closest connection was through a relative. But now, cut off from the wider life she once enjoyed, she now claims us: as far as she is concerned, we are her church.
At the heart of many of the squabbles we Christians have is the question, whose church is it, anyway? Who does it belong to? Sometimes we’re referring to the building; sometimes, the community. When congregations leave our denomination, we have lawsuits over who owns the building and sometimes dueling claims to the parish’s name. When a church shrinks to the point where it is no longer viable and closing looks like the only option, questions are asked about who gets the building, and the silver, and is there’s any left, the bank accounts; local parishes vie for any remaining members. When we’re trying to raise money to preserve a historic building, we reach out to the local community. When you’re talking with clergy, they’ll often call their parish, “my church.” Sometimes people refer to a church by the When an old-time member returns after many years away, and sees different people and different traditions, they ask, “What happened to my church?” If you were to ask my two-year-old goddaughter what the building is at the end of my street, she would likely say, “my church!” And if you turn to the New Testament, you find the church described as the church of God, and Christ's own body.
So whose church is it, anyway?
Is it God’s?
Is it Christ’s?
Is it the diocese’s?
Is it the priest’s?
Is it the parishioners’?
Is it the community’s?
Is it mine?
Is it yours?
And of course the answer is, yes. It’s all of these.
It’s the paradox of the church. Whether you’re talking about the building, or the community called by its name, the church belongs to everyone. To God, Christ, the nursing home resident, the diocese, the child, the pillar of the church...all of us!
All of us - albeit in different ways - share the responsibility; all of us share the blessing. And the key is to hold all these in balance, so that no one stakeholder’s interest excludes others. Any time we forget that the church - the building and the community - belongs to everyone, we forget the far-reaching spread of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Whose church is it? All of ours!
