Ecclesiology
The Story of the Church
Acts 2 & 7; Luke 22
What makes for a trustworthy community?
How do relationships cycle through connection, disconnection, and reconnection?
How might baptism and Eucharist be rewiring pathways in the brain?
Pentecost; original icon by Betsy Porter, used with artist permission
What do we imagine…
enabled the early church to create such a dramatically new kind of community? We are told they committed themselves to being in relationship with one another—across lines of gender, racial, cultural, socio-economic, and religious difference—and became one body. This is quite a different image than a club, organization, or even a democracy.
This is a community where the surprising message is: “your body is as sacred and holy as mine.”
“All who believed were together
and had all things in common;
they would sell their possessions and goods
and distribute the proceeds to all,
as any had need.” (Acts 2)
Part of the miracle of the body of Christ is that it brings people together who otherwise may never sit beside one another, break bread together, or come to value one another’s safety and wellbeing as equal to one’s own.
In most human communities, belonging is framed as something to be earned through merit: “If I meet standards, I will belong.” This conditional belonging creates an insecurity we feel bodily, like an unnecessary program running in the background draining our energy. In contrast, safe enough human relationships are flexible and forgiving. The understanding, “I will not always meet standards” is woven into the fabric of secure belonging.
However, the best of all human relationships cycles through connection, disconnection and reconnection—it’s not the absence of disconnection which makes for a secure relationship, it’s the effectiveness of reconnection. In the vision of the body of Christ we find in scripture, reconnection—forgiveness—was an essential practice.
And something about this new way of being together seemed to have a powerful neurobiological affect on the nervous system of those who enjoyed such secure belonging. The story of Stephen is a helpful example:
“Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him…
While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed,
‘Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.”
Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice,
‘Lord, do not hold this sin against them.’
When he had said this, he died.” (Acts 7)
What the flip is happening here? How are we to make sense of someone facing violence and yet retaining access to his upper brain such that he is capable of responding with such nonviolent forgiveness in that moment?
I wonder if a clue might be found in the description of the rhythms and practices of the early church, and the impact those rituals may have on our brain.
The ritual of baptism, for instance, imitates Jesus’s practice of trusting his cousin John in the river. And I think this ritual might serve as a fractal story of everything. The moment of standing at the water’s edge is similar to the original couple in the garden, connected with God, one another, and the planet—trust. The next moment of slipping below the surface is similar to the original couple’s crisis of trust, disconnected from God, their upper brain networks, and reality—mistrust. The final moment of being lifted above is similar to the original couple’s experience of God as nonviolent, nonpunishing, unconditionally forgiving, reconnection—trust restored.
Similarly, the ritual of Eucharist, also is a reminder of Jesus’ practice of nonviolence and what it reveals to us about who God is. And I think this ritual might also serve as a fractal story of everything. The moment when Jesus breaks the bread and pours the wine is representative of the fragility of the human body. By giving it to his friends, Jesus is communicating his consent—saying “yes”—to having his body broken and blood spilled. He is communicating his trust in God to keep him safe enough, even while he consents to become the scapegoat. A few scenes later, Jesus will be arrested. And his friend Peter will attempt to defend Jesus violently.
“[Peter] struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear.
But Jesus said, ‘No more of this!’
And he touched his ear
and healed him.” (Luke 22)
From that night on, whenever Jesus’s friends gathered to celebrate the Eucharist—taking the bread, drinking the wine—they would have remembered not just Jesus’s words that night at supper, but what they observed him doing in the garden at the moment of his arrest. Jesus’s nonviolent, nonpunishing, unconditionally forgiving response toward his enemies would have been inseparably woven into their understanding of the symbolism of the ritual of the Lord’s Supper.
It is rituals such as these, practiced regularly within a trustworthy community—one committed to reconnection and forgiveness—that I believe is capable of rewiring our brains such that we might also find ourselves capable of responding as Stephen did, facing violence if necessary, with nonviolent, nonpunishing, forgiveness in return… Lord, have mercy.
∞
We gathered together
to pray and reflect on the scriptures,
and we came to resemble the body of Christ.
We observed baptism and the Eucharist
and we reminded one another
of the story of Christ
and what it reveals
about who God is.
We practiced holy rhythms
of connection, disconnection, and reconnection,
we forgave.
We functioned like a body of diverse members,
protecting the vulnerable,
and reflecting the image of God in us:
life
relationship
kindness
creativity
and joy.
Listening with you,
Questions for reflection:
When have you experience secure belonging in a trusting relationship?
When has someone effectively forgiven you and reconnected after a conflict?
What impact does the ritual of baptism or Eucharist have on your nervous system?
Further reading:
Acts 2: 44–47; Acts 7:54–60; Luke 22: 47–53
Sermons & homilies: What Does It Mean to be Shaken?
The Brain & the Spirit, Chapter 7, Reconnection, “The Body of Christ,” pp. 153–6; “Baptism”, pp. 157–8; “Eucharist,” pp. 158–60; “Sanctuary,” pp. 160–2; “The Story of the Body of Christ,” p. 162.
