Finding God in Community

Pouring love into the collective helps heal us all.

There’s a quote floating around social media that says something like, “Friendship means inconveniencing yourself.” The sentiment is well intended, but the message is flawed. This notion of inconvenience is rooted entirely around an individualized experience. It implies a silent scorecard—you are there for me, so in return I force myself to be there for you. The word inconvenience silently translates to I would prefer to be elsewhere, but herein lies my obligation.

In reality, the most beautiful thing about relationships is that they allow us to decenter ourselves. In giving our affection freely, it comes back to us tenfold. It feels good to care about others, because bearing witness to someone else’s emotion furthers our own capacity for compassion. It helps us connect to the large, multi-layered web of the human experience.

Sacred togetherness.

We use the word community as a catchall for a lot—neighborhoods, schools, fitness studios, places of worship, coffee shops, sports fandoms. So what does the word actually mean, and why is it important?

I equate community with belonging. When you’re part of a community, you feel like your presence matters. Like you’re contributing to something bigger than yourself—a specific, unique thread in a larger tapestry. And whenever we take on this type of expansive mindset, we glimpse the divine.

Individualism brings us to a dark and narrow place. It causes us to view the world with blinders and focus solely on ourselves—our struggles, our vendettas, our personal quest for security. Not only is this detrimental to our relationship with God, through whom we know all people are equal, but it’s also harmful to ourselves. The world is built on reciprocity. It is impossible to only focus on oneself and also move through life in a positive way.

Emotional harmony.

In Robin Wall Kimmerer’s best-selling book Braiding Sweetgrass, she extensively explores the concept of reciprocity in the natural world. She tells the Indigenous story of the three sisters—corn, beans, squash—which flourish when planted together. These crops nourish and deplete the soil of complementary nutrients; they provide necessary vine growing space and pest prevention for one another. Grown alone, none of these vegetables could thrive independently for years on end. But when planted together they each get exactly what they need. “Sustain the ones who sustain you, and the earth will last forever,” Kimmerer writes.

In the wake of my mom’s death, my communities carried me in ways that continue to sustain me months later. The deep connections I’ve joyfully cultivated over the years manifested in emotional support that could never have been plotted ahead of time.

Cherished friends, from all stages of my life, showed up in remarkable ways. They each played a specific instrument in the orchestra of my healing—every one wholly unique and complementary. The blessings they offered—a listening ear, a heartfelt letter, a shoulder to cry on, a thoughtful gift, a laugh when I needed it most—represented exactly who they’d always been. The well-worn paths of friendship we’d journeyed together over the years gave me a familiar place to land. Each one different, each one special, each one irreplaceable.

Grace Cathedral, my beloved faith community, gave me a spiritual safety net. The many years I have spent in the cathedral pews built a foundation for my spiritual life that I’ve always appreciated and held as holy. But I never could have envisioned what it would actually be like to lose my mom, nor what kind of support I may need—and the compassionate, wise clergy was with me every step of the way. They held me so tenderly, from joining me bedside on my mom’s final day to conducting her beautiful, sacred funeral. In the darkest moments, they never let me lose sight of light.

Nirvana in the collective.

In recent decades there has been a decrease in third places, a term that refers to a spot where you spend time other than home or work. It doesn’t take much to make somewhere your third place, but it is key that you form connections with other people who frequent that space, too.

In the busy world of today, it can be harder than ever to find time to congregate—but we owe it to ourselves to unearth the opportunities. By joining in community, sharing triumph and strife, we enrich our humanity.

Deep in our bones lies an intuition that we arrive here carrying a bundle of gifts to offer the community. Over time, these gifts are meant to be seen, developed, and called into the village at the time of need. To feel valued for the gifts with which we are born affirms our worth and dignity. In a sense, it is a form of spiritual employment—simply being who we are confirms our place in the village.
-Francis Weller, The Wild Edge of Sorrow

Community can’t be viewed as a transactional relationship or safeguard against future loneliness. You must show up because it brings meaning to your life in the present moment. And that is anything but inconvenient.

in love & faith,
anné jude