Belonging to a Community

My childhood was unmistakably Brooklyn. I lived on a dead-end street. There were tons of kids of every age and we all knew each other. We went to different schools, but most of us went to the same church. We didn’t have any programs but we had 58^th street.

We all took care of each other, literally. There was always some adult home, so no one needed daycare.  Living on a dead-end made playing in the street OK.  Ironically, when I was 10 years old I rode a bike out into the street and got run over by a slow moving car.  I wasn’t hurt, and since my parents were at work I spent the rest of the day in Benny’s house playing video games and eating Ellio’s Pizza.

Mr. and Mrs. Griffin sat on their front stoop. He smoked a cigar, she knit. He was 95 years old and still cleaned his own gutters. I mowed their grass.  Attached to the Griffin’s house were the Geraghtys. Florence’s grandkids would visit for the summer. Even when they weren’t around, she was everybody’s grandmother.  When I had questions about life, especially girls, I always went to Flo.

When I was 16, George was 21 and lived down the block. He heard me playing guitar one day and we started talking music. He was a voice of encouragement for me. He took me to one of my first concert experiences- Buddy Guy at the Hammerstein Ballroom. We talked about that show for years.

I was 58^th street’s kid. We all were.  58^th street was our home. It was our community. This is where I get my early understanding of church.

Maybe we weren’t the most reverent church, with 30 kids running and shouting up and down the dark street, hiding in trees playing man-hunt, but we rejoiced with each other, learned from each other, fought with each other, forgave each other and supported one another in difficult times.

Mike Marano was my best friend- twelve years old when he died. For weeks after his death, we kids sat on my stoop talking about life and death and uncertainty. There was no pastor or priest to offer consolation or lead us in a study about the resurrection, just a few concerned neighbors who hugged us and brought iced tea out to us in between innings of wiffle ball. Some times my parents would sit with us, or the Amodeos, or Flo. God works in all of us wherever we find ourselves.

Many of us can remember when church communities were geographically local. Today, we’re spread out far and wide which comes with its blessings and challenges. In one regard it means that the gospel proclaimed at Ascension can reach the outskirts of Baltimore County. In another regard it means the sense of community can be limited.  When it comes to faith formation, community is essential. It is foundational. It is transformational.  It is this sense of belonging- the body, connected- that draws us nearer to Christ. If we want to live our lives as faithful disciples in a broken world, a world that divides us based on wealth, status, ethnicity, and religion, then we have to be intentional about it. From every part of town we need to come together and practice being a community of faith, so that we can imitate this life for our neighbors, whether they are on Providence Road, Regester Avenue, Jarrettsville Pike, Baltimore Street or 58^th Street.

This is why we do church: to know that we belong to a community, to God’s family, and to participate in that community. It is our baptismal call to make others know that they belong, too.