It has oft been said, “You will forget what people said, but you will never forget how people made you feel.” Is this true of our gatherings, too? As the sermons bounce around in our heads dying to take root, will our tangible experience: taste, touch, feel, interactions, remain?
The assembly we usually attend is large. Stadium large. Room for all, room for the space between. Even when urged to scoot in, the space between remains.
Here, the sacredness is felt as the space between is tossed aside, making room for a greater bond. Arms close to touching. Generations apart, yet souls united to One. The space between is pursued, chosen. In a full row of empty space on both sides of me, the space between is typically filled with someone known. Yet today: One second, alone. The next, together.
I look around.
There are no spaces between. Although rows separate us, people are huddled together: young and old. United by space and time, united by the bread and wine.
A reminder that what unites us stands stronger than what divides us. A reminder that together we stand, together we fall. We sing, pray, pass the peace, as one. Just as Father, Son, and Spirit are one, so we.
And we go out, together.