By Rev. Christine Ng, Executive Director (Interim)

The word “community” has layers of meaning. Sometimes we use it to name the collection of people thrown together in a certain geographic area. It also describes a group who gather around shared values and interests. It brings with it visible and invisible threads of connection and relationship, as we feel ourselves part of something bigger than ourselves; those connections expanding to encompass the global human community, the more-than-human world, and the whole earth community.

In these days, I cannot use the word “community” without hearing echoes of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s vision of a Beloved Community. For Dr. King, the Beloved Community was a practical and achievable goal, described by The King Center as:

A global vision, in which all people can share in the wealth of the earth. In the Beloved Community, poverty, hunger and homelessness will not be tolerated because international standards of human decency will not allow it. Racism and all forms of discrimination, bigotry and prejudice will be replaced by an all-inclusive spirit of sisterhood and brotherhood.

Dr. King believed we could achieve the Beloved Community with a shared commitment to nonviolence. Of course, there are many kinds of violence, all of which we are seeing enacted on a daily basis; violence perpetrated not just with guns or fists but with words, with bulldozers, with systems, and with laws that work against the bonds of community.

As Dr. King’s vision suggests, community is also a practice—I would say a spiritual practice—and takes commitment, creativity, and compassion. We have to want it and seek it out, over and over. We must be open to seeing ourselves not as the isolated individuals our culture would have us believe. The African idea of ubuntu says it beautifully: We are people because of other people, sometimes translated as “I am, because you are.” We have to understand, not just intellectually, but deep in our very bones, that our humanity, indeed our very existence, depends on living in connection with a wider range of relationships, including those who have been on the margins of our, and our society’s, scope of concern; those we have seen as “other.” This is the work of re-membering, and it needs to be done in community.

Audre Lorde said it this way: “Without community, there is no liberation, only the most vulnerable and temporary armistice between an individual and her oppression.”

We live in a time when we are hyper-connected technologically, and yet the connection of true community seems more elusive than ever. Many of the formerly visible threads of connection in our world have been cut or allowed to fray, and individuality and independence have been elevated to the level of gods. We are feeling the effects in our bodies, our institutions, and in the earth itself.

I teach Tai Chi, and in the middle of class last week one of my students started to cry. She was in a moment of feeling overwhelmed by discord and violence in her family and the wider world. In the quiet of the tai chi practice it welled up in her body and leaked out her eyes. She moved to the side, back turned toward the group, silently sobbing so as not to disturb the class. One by one, the students in the class held her—literally and figuratively—which allowed her to get regrounded and stay with the practice until the end of the class. But I could see in her face a mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and wonder. It took a lot of courage for her to come to class that day, feeling so vulnerable. She had skipped the week before. It took even more courage to stay after showing her vulnerability.

After class we talked for a long time in the parking lot. I’ve done a lot of spiritual companioning after tai chi in the more than 30 years I’ve taught those classes, even before I had heard the phrase “spiritual direction.” She said to me, “I was raised to stand on my own two feet, to be self-sufficient and not to rely on anyone, not even family. Now I am craving community, but I don’t have those skills.”

Being in community does take skills, skills that can only be learned in community. I’ve come to believe that compassion is one of those skills: compassion for ourselves as well as compassion others. Sharing, listening, and discernment also. These are all communal practices, and integral to the art of spiritual direction.

At Stillpoint, our programs provide an opportunity to practice community. We are brought together by a shared desire to explore our inner landscapes and connect more deeply with the Divine. Starting out as strangers, over time we share our lived experience, listen to that of others, feel the bonds of community strengthen and become visible. We remember together what it means to be in community and in the process re-member ourselves. It’s ongoing work that doesn’t end when the program is over.

Practicing community is hard and often messy. We come to know each other and are known in return. That’s a vulnerable and scary place to be. There is risk and we don’t always get it right. This is where compassion comes in, and also grace.

Whether at Stillpoint or somewhere else, may you find a place you can practice community. In the words of Cole Arthur Riley, author of Black Liturgies: Prayers, Poems and Meditations for Staying Human:

Who will hold you?
Who will remember you?
You, who are something to behold.
You, who are flawed and mysterious and needy and good.
Belonging is not too great an ask.
Find your sacred company. And may they find and cherish you.

Blessings for the journey,

Chris

Rev. Chris Ng is an ordained minister of the United Church of Christ, church pastor, chaplain, spiritual director, a retired appellate lawyer, and serving as the current Interim Executive Director of Stillpoint. She serves on the Ghost Ranch faculty of Stillpoint and is the Stillpoint at Ghost Ranch program administrator. She holds a Master of Divinity, Juris Doctor, and Bachelor of Arts degrees and did her spiritual direction training through Stillpoint. She also studied the Taoist arts for more than 30 years. Having previously served churches in Southern Florida and Texas, Chris is currently called to pastor First United Church of Christ and Conference Center, Second Life, the only fully authorized church of a recognized Christian denomination that exists only in virtual reality. She lives in Northern New Mexico and also serves as chaplain and EMT with the Abiquiu Volunteer Fire Department.