This article is written by guest contributor, Christopher J. Richmann.
On the Sundays following Easter Sunday, people often look around at church and think, “Where did everybody go?” How different, I suppose, church would be if everyone who came to worship on Resurrection Sunday also came to worship regularly throughout the year. When Christians think about community, they often first think about being together for worship. That can make for a pretty depressing scene if we associate the strength or vitality of a community with the number of people who actively participate in it.
But Scripture reminds us that community is not about numbers. The main concerns for Christian community are not quantity (how many?) but quality (what kind?). And with the category of quality opened up, we can ask important questions like:
- What does this community value?
- What habits are instilled in this community?
- How do people speak to each other in this community?
- How does this community determine who is and who is not included?
On the heels of Easter (that is, Resurrection) Sunday, we can state the question that sums up all other questions like this: what is the nature of the resurrection community?
Some might jump to Acts 4:32-33 to help us answer this question: “Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power, the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus.” This passage has inspired Christians throughout history to try to form a resurrection community that does just that: renounce private property and redistribute wealth so that no one is needy.
Those who have taken this as a blueprint for resurrection community have always been in the minority. But they have been influential and prominent. The long history of communal monasticism sees this passage as one of its central biblical supports.
But this is a case study of the problem with using an isolated statement in Scripture as the prooftext for some distinct belief or practice. Any reckoning with this scene should include the whole story about this early Christian community who shared everything and forsook any claim to private property.
The story does not have a happy ending (Acts 5:1-11). Two members of this community sell a piece of property but withhold some of the money from the sale. When they give that portion to the apostles to be distributed to the community, they lie and claim that this is the whole of the proceeds. And both—the man and his wife—die in turn, presumably because they lied not just to the apostles but to God. In short, the ideal community of sharing all things in common simply didn’t work. From failed utopias to dysfunctional monastic communities, history is checkered with disappointing attempts to realize the ideal Christian community.
This ought to infuse stiff realism and practicality into our visions of the Christian community. People are people. Sinners are sinners. And joining a Christian community doesn’t shield the community or protect its members from the evil humans are capable of. The problems follow you even when the community is literally led by Jesus’ apostles. The troubles are present even when all the members of the community willingly take a vow to devote their lives to God and separate themselves from the rest of humanity and unspiritual influences.
From failed utopias to dysfunctional monastic communities, history is checkered with disappointing attempts to realize the ideal Christian community.
This practical and realistic attitude is useful. But it alone doesn’t help much with that earlier question: what is the nature of the resurrection community?
Another word for community is fellowship. This is a favorite word of the writer of 1 John. Here, we see the true nature of the resurrection community. (Spoiler: it has nothing to do with selling your possessions, taking vows as a monk or nun, or joining a small group.)
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life…we declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us” (1 John 1:1, 3).
What this writer has heard, seen, and touched, is, of course, the resurrected Jesus Christ. But Jesus Christ is not just a person; he is the “word of life.” Hearing and obeying this word is what makes for fellowship and community.
What is beautiful about this vision of community is that it does not stand on its own power. People can agree on all kinds of things and join all kinds of groups. But they all, at some point or another, either peter out or outlive their usefulness.
The fellowship we are talking about here, then, connects to something greater than humans can dream up, practice, or write into the bylaws of their group. “Our fellowship,” says 1 John, “is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.”
In other words, fellowship is nothing if it is not ultimately fellowship with God. And we experience God in this fellowship as word (or, if you like, words). This “word of life” both speaks to us and conditions everything that we say in community.
Fellowship is nothing if it is not ultimately fellowship with God
In particular, this true fellowship is practiced by being honest about our sinfulness. In the ironic logic of the gospel, we can only be righteous if we confess that we are sinners. We can only be part of this community if we acknowledge that by our sinfulness, we are estranged enemies of God and each other.
This is what it means to walk in light and not in darkness. To walk in darkness is to get to the point that you claim you don’t need to confess your sins. If we do this, says 1 John, “we lie and do not do what is true.” The word he uses for “lie” is literally “pseudo,” that is fake, pretend. This is the definition of a Christian who pretends—one who has gotten so experienced in righteousness that he runs out of sins to confess.
Being such a Christian rips apart the resurrection community in two ways. First, it is deception, and no community thrives in deception. “If we say we are without sin, we deceive each other, and the truth is not among us” (1 John 1:8, my translation).
But deception, which fractures human community, is just the visible consequence of the deeper problem—Christians who have no sins to confess also sever their fellowship with God. “If we say that we have not sinned, we make God a liar, and his word is not in us” (1 John 1:6). If God’s word of life is not in us, we have no part in the resurrection community. After all, the word is Christ himself, especially his death and resurrection. God sent his Son—even to death—to take away the sin of the world. Thus, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ is God’s public declaration that you (as part of “the world”) are a sinner. To act like you’ve got no sin to confess is to call God a liar.
Now we can answer the central question: what is the nature of the resurrection community? It is sinners confessing their sin and being honest with each other and with God. They are not perfect, but they are perfectly dependent on a God who is faithful and just, who will forgive their sins and cleanse them from all unrighteousness.
And how does God actually forgive sins? This is the other crucial characteristic of the nature of the resurrection community. It is members of this community—sinners like the rest of them—forgiving each other’s sins as the risen Jesus himself commands and authorizes through the power of the Holy Spirit as recorded in John 20.
Christopher Richmann is assistant director for teaching and learning for the Academy for Teaching and Learning and affiliate faculty in religion at Baylor University. He is an ordained minister in the ELCA and has written on American religious history and Lutheranism. His most recent book is Called: Recovering Lutheran Principles for Ministry and Vocation
