Communion

Normally we reserve this word for a sacred Christian act involving grapes and wheat, however the word at its most basic level refers to a certain quality of relationship. Despite being six people with different answers to most of life's questions, my housemates and I commune fairly successfully each Thursday night over a home cooked meal.

Actually, it's probably one time every week we all come together, if only for an hour or two. We rotate the cooking and cleanup responsibilities, and someone is also designated to provide the soul food for the gathering. After only a few minutes, we're usually lost in inside jokes or discussion of various news items or house problems (Why has no one cleaned the bathroom this year? or Make sure you lock the back door so Charles doesn't yell at me again!).

For this week's soul food, Caitlin asked us all to share about our most profound memories of church. PJ's memory was discovering a girl he had a crush on in a church he was visiting with his father and thanking God for His providence. Caitlin's memory was being embarassed in church when the church laughed as she tried to give her mother a rose. She was too young to realize it was a faux paux since her mother just given the rose to her a moment before. Previous soul food's have involved silence reflection, drum circles, making Valentine's cards, and playing beer pong—with grape juice.

Having intentional disciplines like community meal night sets our community apart from roommates casually living together or a group of friends who merely hang out. Structure is what makes our community intentional rather than organic (naturally occuring). I'm not saying it's necessarily better this way—it's definitely more awkward at first, but I think having structures force us to spend time together and get to know each other on new levels. I think it's worth the scheduling difficulties, worth the awkwardness, and worth at least a few hours out of my week.