Birthing of a “Church”

I suppose you’ll have to excuse the random drone shot for today. You see, for the longest time, this patch of ground was empty, filled with trees, grasses, birds, and a small pond. Then, a few years ago, a sign went up: “Future Home of XXX” and my curiosity was piqued. I’d always wondered what was so attractive about the space but there was never any compelling reason to walk through or fly over until now.

Every year, my mother asks my younger brother and me for Christmas gift ideas. It’s a competition of sorts given that we’re given a rough budget and, behind the scenes, we both know that whoever picks the “larger” of the gifts will set the high watermark for the other. This year, we both set roughly equal budgets: I, with a request for an updated DJI drone and he with a request for landscaping tools.

I suppose the delicious irony in all of this is that while Emma and I have a farm in Ireland that could use landscaping equipment, I also spend a considerable amount of time ensconced in a managed property with naught to do but sit on my hands and pray that nothing breaks. So, a drone it was and the first fruits of said acquisition you can see above.

Back to the picture. This fallow ground, having been dormant for as long as I can remember suddenly started showing signs of life. Construction equipment was moved onto the bare ground, the fencing went up, the visibility went down, and the grading began. Over the past year, now, there’s been little to show except for the ever-increasing presence of equipment and gravel and perhaps a change in the signs posted outside the property.

Being tucked behind my favourite Korean restaurant and the local craft beer store certainly puts this place front and center. Since Covid, I’ve been scaling back my “going out for dinner” as a means of reclaiming expenses for other meaningful things (Emma, my kids, camera equipment, writing…important stuff, you know?) so my presence in the neighbourhood has been less frequent except for driving by to get to the local grocery store. It’s the dichotomy of suburban existence, really: we pass by notable incursions in our routines to get to the same-old places we’ve always been.

So, what’s being built on this slice of suburban pie?

A church of the non-demoninational persuasion. You can read more about their values here. As far as their faith statements go, it’s harmless for its standard “We believe…” propositions. The true measure of a church is, however, in how they act.

I have my reasons to doubt the sincerity of most of what we call Western Christendom, what with their attempts at “growth” and that pesky idea of treating people with dignity and respect regardless of race, creed, religion, ethnicity, sexuality, gender identity, and political leanings.

I understand that we need to create these edifices to house the unwashed and the unloved from the terrifying liberals polluting our genteel society but, was that ever what the genesis of faith was about? It wasn’t about four walls, it was about the long path between the people who made up each village, town, and city. It was acknowledging the injustice of a broken governance and world and attempting to ameliorate their suffering, not to gather themselves together in the million-dollar auditoriums of their “tithed” offerings.

These selfsame halls have led to the desecration of society, and the evisceration of widows, orphans, and the marginalised. It’s led to the rampant fascism, nativism, and theocratic authoritarianism propounded by Trump and his ilk because “what would Jesus do?” has been coopted by the narcissistic assumption that Christians is being “persecuted” for their beliefs in Western society. Perhaps if they spent some time examining their social hygiene, they would realise that their odour reaches to the heavens themselves.

Ah, dear souls, faith is so much more than the buildings we make and the people we associate ourselves with. Faith is a long walk that we take in life. It’s scrambling for purchase to understand our purpose, our being, our place in the cosmic greatness of our existence. It’s being humbled by the trillions of stars in the night sky and realising that the little things we do each day for each other carry the infinite weight of joy and hope.

Faith isn’t found in church pews, in the cloistered halls of an Andalusian monetary, or in the Vatican. It’s not found on the television, in the tithing envelopes, or in the forced-smiles of theologians. It’s never been found on the wide avenues of Main Street USA.

I hope that this week finds you in pursuit of your faith, whether that be religious or otherwise. I hope that this faith brings you closer to understanding yourself, your place in this world, and your sacred obligation to the humans who travel alongside you.

May it ever be so.