I was listening to a podcast this week about dysfunctional families. (Mom, if you are reading this, everything is fine.) The podcast episode was brought to my attention by a friend, because it was specifically about “church families.”

I was hooked right from the opening remarks:

“There’s a reason people call religious congregations “church families.” Because belonging to a church is a lot like belonging to a family. They have all the things you love about families. The casseroles. Holiday gatherings. Unconditional acceptance. But the other stuff … that’s there too. The pressure to conform. All those rules and old-fashioned traditions. And, as you grow up, the realization that acceptance may not be unconditional, depending on who you turn out to be.”

The host confessed to a period in his church-going life when he felt inadequate and unworthy and fundamentally out of place, but could not admit it. He believed there was a holy line that could not be crossed … and that line involved asking hard questions and challenging the rules and traditions of his church. He felt pressured to be boastfully confident about his faith, even though he inwardly doubted some of the ideologies of his denomination. He simply didn’t want to disappoint his church family. And he had been persuaded that faith is only at its best when everyone is perfectly conforming and confident. So, he silenced any misgivings he had.

It was bittersweet and sobering to hear the experiences of Christians who found themselves uncomfortable and unwelcome in their own church families, some for their gender identification, others for their social activism, others for their dating choices or the cut of their hair or the length of their skirt, and others for simply questioning the intentions of church structures and governance. The contributors were almost all from the next generation of Christians—young people who knew Jesus, but weren’t recognizing him in the patterns and behaviour of the church to which their own families had traditionally belonged.

I hasten to say, the episode was not arguing that organized church was bad or irrelevant. For the Christian faith to be impactful in the world, there must be visible, organized communities that persuasively embody that faith. And many of the contributors to the podcast happily ended up finding a new church family where the community expectations did not override their own expression of faith or self.

At the end of the podcast, I went searching through my memory for a quote about church families that had been shared with me in my Diocesan days. I am likely not remembering it correctly, and I don’t know where the idea came from. It was the wisdom of an American pastor cited by a Canadian preacher in a Sunday sermon, and it went something like this:

The miracle of any healthy church community is the shared and steadfast effort to always make Jesus more important than the actual community.

It’s such a beautiful, challenging paradox. While a congregation may feel unified by its traditions, customs, and expectations, what really holds a church family together is the belief that the love of Christ is more precious than any of these things.

As we gather with our chosen families during Holy Week and Easter, let’s remember those who are new or returning to “church family.” Let’s make sure, when they come to God’s house for a holiday gathering, that they immediately see what—or rather, who—holds the family together and how diverse its membership can be as a result.

Diversity Blessing

May the God who created a world of diversity and vibrancy,
Go with us as we embrace life in all its fullness.

May the Son who teaches us to care for strangers and foreigners,
Go with us as we try to be good neighbours in our communities.

May the Spirit who breaks down our barriers and celebrates community,
Go with us as we find the courage to create a place of welcome for all.

– Clare McBeath and Tim Presswood at www.xavier.edu/jesuitresource/