Dialogue as a Communal Spiritual Practice
By Holly Porter Phillips
I often think of a Sunday morning service like a family dinner. On most nights in my home, we linger over a meal and conversation – lighting candles, playing music, and relaxing into a deep sense of belonging. For a church congregation it’s not so different. Candles, music, bread, and wine are involved, and, while like a family, it’s not perfect or without conflict, most in attendance enjoy catching up after a week or weeks apart. At my church, in the highs and lows of our lives, we welcome each other into a space of belonging. In the same way that dinner brings my family together after a long day apart, Sunday mornings are a chance to come together in a place where the table is set and waiting for you.
I am a co-pastor at a small church in east Austin and while most elements of our weekly worship service won’t surprise you, we have one practice that might. After the opening songs and greeting one other we engage in a spiritual practice together. For many years now, just before the sermon, a simple question is asked: “Where have you seen the movement of God in your life?”
This question is a foundational practice in our community and shapes us as much as anything else we do. Grace Lee Boggs writes: “Building community is to the collective as spiritual practice is to the individual.” I believe that if more churches held practices that encouraged the looking, naming, and sharing of the movement of God in the world, they would build stronger communities that turn toward the world and participate in its healing. In sharing my experiences, exploring the benefits of this practice, and describing the lessons I’ve learned I hope you’ll feel inspired and empowered to try something new in your own community.
After asking my initial question, I often ask: “In other words, where have you experienced or offered love, peace, justice, hope, or goodness in your life?” “Where have you seen beauty, forgiveness, or healing?” “Where have you felt the presence of God or the love of community?” These additional questions create space for those who need to use expansive language for God or need a further understanding of what the question means.
Every week I am moved by the answers. Sometimes an engagement or new baby is announced, and we all cheer. On other days, gratitude is expressed for healing, or a new job, or for the felt nearness of God during a hard time. But mostly, people talk about the joy of the dog park near their house where they’ve made friends with someone more than twice their age or the inspiring play they saw that week. Others talk about teachers, librarians, and coaches making a difference in their child’s life. Nearly always someone shares about a moment of connection with a neighbor or co-worker that surprised them. More than once, I’ve shared about the nearby city pool or the skating rink unexpectedly delighting me. And still others share of a deep season of grief and how the community delivered meals, sent heart emojis, and listened to them over a glass of wine on their back porch.
We share in the heartache and the goodness of our lives and the world around us. I have come to know this part of our service as a communal spiritual practice. It reminds me of what Ross Gay says about his practice of naming delight and how he developed a “kind of delight radar. Or maybe it was more like the development of a delight muscle. Something that implies the more you study delight, the more delight there is to study.” I think we are developing our own radar for the goodness of God in the world. We are studying it. We are constantly becoming more inclined to keep our eyes open, looking around us for hope and justice and joy. This practice connects us to each other, reminding us we are not alone in our suffering and our happiness. It gives us a chance to share in all aspects of our lives.
Over the years I have found many benefits of this communal practice. As mentioned before, we’ve developed radars for the goodness of God as a community. This muscle can be particularly helpful in times of stress or grief. Looking for the good alongside the hard brings comfort and joy to our lives.
Additionally, this practice is a point of connection for the whole community. We learn more of the particularities of each other's lives, like who is coaching volleyball or whose sister has breast cancer. We learn when a baby finally sleeps through the night or when someone’s best friend is moving back to town. These points of connection move us toward more prayer, more conversation, and more care of one another.
I have also found that when we begin what is traditionally a time for the congregation to be talked at, with a time of talking with, it shapes the sermon that follows. This communal practice begins a conversation that is often carried into the sermon. It moves the congregants from observers to participants. Not only are people more likely to answer questions when the door has been opened through this beginning conversation, but the spiritual practice prompts the person preaching to be more attuned to their listeners. The practice often shapes my sermon as I sometimes (very carefully) integrate what is shared into my teaching or make small changes when necessary. Even if the sermon does not include dialogue, this practice engages those in attendance, connecting them to the speaker and one another.
It is not always easy or seamless and I have learned a lot over the years of leading this practice. In fact sometimes it can even be a little awkward or uncomfortable. That said, here are a few lessons I have learned along the way, that might help you explore this communal spiritual practice:
A congregant once told me that she sat in service for over 5 years before she ever answered the question and others have been known to share on their first visit! Occasionally I might say “I’m wondering if there is anyone who has never shared before, who might like to today?” This can often help those who feel more comfortable sharing to pause just long enough for a more timid member of the community to participate.
This practice is a great way to engage the entire community. In our congregation we often have teenagers and young kids speak up. Regular visitors, like family members, are often willing to join in, as well as guest preachers or musicians, which is always meaningful.
I also believe that those who might struggle to feel authentic in naming something as the work of God, are able to feel comfortable talking about their experiences of joy, love, or hope.
There are weeks where I end up sharing my own story to get the ball rolling, and others I have to cut people off in order to get to the sermon. I like to give just enough silence so that someone has time to work up the courage, but not too long that someone shares just to break the silence. Play around with your timing! I usually will say something like, “We have time for one more,” when it is time to wrap up, which helps me keep from cutting someone off later.
I try to respond simply and in an affirming way. This is not the time to create a theology lesson out of someone else's experience, and I certainly don’t want to assume they feel or think something about the situation. I generally respond with a “Thank you for sharing,” or “Oh I love that!,” “How beautiful,” etc.
I believe that a spiritual practice can be anything that wakes us up to ourselves and to the presence of God, bringing healing to our lives and the lives of those around us. This simple communal spiritual practice — asking ourselves to look for and name the movement of God in our lives – continually shapes me and my congregation. It attunes us not only to God and to ourselves, but to those in our community — helping us turn toward one another and then out toward the world.
Holly Porter Phillips is a pastor, writer, and trained spiritual director (Anam Cara). She loves the slow pace of her work and the gift of walking alongside others. Holly serves as co-pastor at a small church in Austin, TX where she lives with her musician husband, their three kids, and a backyard full of birds. You can connect with Holly on her website at www.hollyporterphillips.com.