"Community" is a word that can mean a whole lot of things.
It's a group of people that have all chosen to live near each other for whatever reason. I think of the small town I was raised in as a great exemplar of this. There were 11,000 people there who chose to live in that particular place, about 125 miles from the nearest metro area, and that bound us all together in a particular way. Fairmont, Minnesota is a community, as is Montesano, and Battle Ground, and Ballard, and Tacoma.
But it's also a group of people bound together by a common interest, or a common unifying identity. This is how we speak of communities bound together by racial or cultural identity, as well as folks who have an interest, like the sabermetrics community, the folks who seek to analyze baseball statistics to find objective data about baseball (it comes from an acronym, SABR, or the Society for American Baseball Research (you can learn more here.)
In a way, we as Episcopalians have that, since we all chose to attend Episcopal churches, and identify ourselves as Episcopalians. But that kind of community is a double-edged sword. Often, identifying ourselves is as good a way to keep people out of a community as it is to make people a part of a community. The way we use language definitely helps make that happen. In Rite I, we pray the confession together saying "We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness." I'm not entirely sure what we mean by that, and I have a theological degree. I'm confident that this kind of language makes some people feel included, and some excluded.
But the sense of "community" I want us to think about is the shared feeling of fellowship. Community as a sense, rather than as a thing. Because it strikes me that being a community is irrelevant if we don't have the sense of ourselves as a community, then it's harder for us to live like a community. That's part of what's so tricky about being a diocese; we're a large community made up of individual communities, and it's hard to get a sense of what it means for us to be that big, diocesan community.
What does it mean to you to be in a community as large as the Diocese of Olympia (or whatever diocese you're a part of)? Do you feel connected, and what is your experience of community on that larger scale?
R.C.