What kind of community are we?

"...[T]he most important social task of Christians is to be nothing less than a community capable of forming people with virtues sufficient to witness to God's truth in the world."          

Stanley Hauerwas, A Community of Character

At some point I found myself in agreement with this idea. I don't recall if reading it during my seminary experience created that 'aha moment' when words were found that captured my expectations, or if that early encounter shaped my future thinking. However it occurred, I find this notion of the church to be both an indictment and a challenge for the followers of Christ today.


I once told Brian McLaren (oh yes I did name drop) that my idea of church is something between the Catholic Church before Vatican II and waling into a Starbucks. I wasn't raised Catholic, but four years in aCatholic high school, along with three year of high school Spanish, prepared me to walk into Mass at Notre Dame with no knowledge of French and appreciate the service. After a few "Pater's" and "Jesum Christum's," I found my place in the familiar liturgy and knew exactly where I was through the gestures of the priest and the community prayer beginning: "Pater noster." When you walked in the service, you participated in the Mass. You knew what you were getting, and you got it.


Similarly, when I walk into Starbucks, whether in Lexington, KY or London, England, you know what you're going to get. The accent of the barista may be noticeably different, but the coffee will be the same. And it doesn't matter how I voted in the last election, who (or if) I'm currently dating, or what college I graduated from (or even whether I graduated!).  


I have to say somewhere between because I am not Catholic, so attending a Catholic Mass is somewhat voyeuristic for me. I am a spy gaining information; an outsider pausing to observe. Not so in the coffee shop. I may come for conversation with a friend, or to read the newspaper, but if I can't get my venti-americano-decaf I won't be coming back. And I am not going to ask to speak to the manager because they don't serve two-all-beef-patties-on-a-sesame-seed-bun.


I can't be so sure in the church these days if I will even recognize God, not to mention find a community I identify with. On the occasions I am a visitor, I quickly can tell if I could "belong" simply by observing the racial make-up of the congregation or checking my attire against those in attendance. Rarely can I expect a variety of music (think coffee or tea) and once the style of worship is revealed I still may not encounter the One to whom said worship is directed. God will be assumed and maybe pointed to with glowing modifiers that are rarely actively substantiated in a language familiar to someone born after the 19th century.


But I may well find out what the congregation is to think of the current administration in Washington, DC. I may get tips for balancing my budget or surviving my divorce (even though I haven't yet tried marriage). And whether the sanctuary seats 75 of 5000, I'll probably be able to close my eyes and sing songs as if there is no one in the world but me and Jesus. I can almost assume that, if the bible is referenced, it will merely serve as a spring board for the preacher's rumination upon the human condition: A clever phrase, seized out of its narrative context, serving as an existential reflection on the modern predicament by a sermon title and repetitive clause to make the sermon captivating; A promise without context providing the edge I require to work another week or return to class on Monday; An entertaining story introducing me to the preacher or her family, but the biblical story too often is sidestepped.


Such therapeutic-moralistic-deism has failed to form a community capable of being a glimpse of the good intentions of the Creator for the world to see. After years of seeker-driven church-growth strategies, the church can maybe claim a few well-intentioned individuals, but when the label 'unchristian' describes what contemporary society thinks of the church, we have a problem. 


Maybe my analogies are too modest. Our congregations are branded: contemporary; monastic; traditional; liberal; evangelical; conservative; missional; pentecostal; progressive - not to mention the denominational (and non-denominational) varieties. Still, after two millennia there isn't the idea that the church with all its out-posts might each cause the random Sunday morning visitor, or more importantly that Monday morning co-worker, to recognize that there is a God. And this God is up to something. And that something is good. And what they witness in this community is a glimpse of that good.


I wasn't sure about this idea of blogging. These gist of these random thoughts are wide open for criticism. Faulty logic notwithstanding, still I wonder, what kind of community are we?