In the mid 1980’s, I worked at a parish in England.  It was Christ Church on the Isle of Dogs in east London.  On a typical Sunday morning, we would have thirty or so folks in church.  We did the regular Sunday things.  You know: worship, coffee hour, checking in with folks, maybe a meeting.  And then after all the Sunday morning church activities were over, some of us would retire to the vicarage where we would have a fancy Sunday lunch with the Vicar and his family.  Invariably, Father Rob would fall asleep at the lunch table, and we would entertain ourselves in speculation of just how loud his snores would become.

Now, the funny thing about the Parish of Christ Church is that, while we had only about thirty people in church on any given Sunday morning, our parish membership comprised approximately thirty thousand human souls!  How can that be?  Well, in England, a parish is understood to be a geographical area rather than a congregation.  The Parish of Christ Church, therefore, comprised everybody who lived within a certain distance of the church.  These persons included Anglicans who went to church, Anglicans who didn’t go to church, Roman Catholics, Swedish Lutherans, Muslims, agnostics, atheists, Buddhists, etc… Heck, even Methodists were considered to be parishioners!

If I were to ask somebody on the streets of the Isle of Dogs, somebody whom I had never met before and whom I had never seen at church on Sunday morning, to which parish they belonged… invariably, they would tell me, “Oh, Christ Church, of course.  That’s my parish.”  Further, if you were to ask the people who did go to Christ Church on Sunday mornings who they believed to be parishioners, they would say simply, “Why, everybody, of course!”

Isn’t that odd?  I mean, that is so very different from what we think here in the United States.  For us, a parishioner is somebody who goes to church, or somebody who pledges, or somebody who, at least, has some sort of family tie to the church.  But everybody?  No way.  That’s just not how it works here in America.  

I’m wondering, however, whether it is our conception of parish that may be the flawed one.

“While Jesus was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, wanting to speak to him. Someone told him, “Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to you.” He replied to him, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” Pointing to his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” (Matthew 12:46-50)

If Jesus had a parish, it would include a lot of very surprising people.  Jesus’ parish wouldn’t include just his family or the apostles or his disciples.  It wouldn’t include just those who had the right beliefs (or any beliefs). Jesus’ parish wouldn’t be only for those who showed up to the synagogue or church to hear him preach and teach.  It certainly wouldn’t be just for those who financially supported his ministry.  In essence, Jesus says that his parish comprises those who “do the will of my Father in heaven.”  And what is that will?  Love. Only love.

What would our parish look like if we considered everyone in our community who is about love to be our brother and sister?  What if we claimed everyone to be our fellow parishioner and designed our parish ministry accordingly?  What would our worship look like if we designed it not just for those of us who have heard time and again the Good News, but for those fellow parishioners who haven’t heard it?  What would our parish budget look like if we valued those who do not give to the church as much as those who do?  What if we considered and claimed everyone in our community as our brother or sister or mother or father?

And I’m wondering… if that’s what Jesus’ Parish looks like, how many of us would want to be members?  Count me in.  How about you?

~Father Art