The theme of community and belonging continues this week in our Second Reading. “We are many parts, we are all one body” is so familiar to Catholics that we’ve even set it to music. I bet a lot of us know it so well we can sing it by heart, verses and all.

No wonder it speaks to us – the human body is an apt way to think about community. All parts are essential, even if we’re not aware of them all the time. My liver is as important as my ears, and probably more so, but it’s easier to listen to good music and appreciate my hearing than it is to be grateful for my liver. Community can function this way too. There are some members whom we always notice and appreciate, and some who tend to get sidelined, even though they’re important too. This is true of intentional communities like mine as well as large communities like neighborhoods and cities.

It’s true of our country as well. My religious community is taking up the study of racism, learning more about the systems that oppress people, particularly Black, Indigenous, and People of Color. When we take a deep dive into U.S. history, we see that the marginalization of people didn’t just happen. It was intentional. It was designed early on, and today systems still exist to keep people disenfranchised. It’s so subtle that we may not see it unless we really look. That’s why becoming anti-racist, which is a process of learning and growth, takes a lot of hard work.

I’m a learner, not an expert, but there are many educators and activists doing anti-racism work, and if you haven’t checked them out already, I hope you do. My reflection for today, though, brings me back to this metaphor of the body and what it tells us about how we hold community. As one of my own community members showed me, this reading from First Corinthians describes how our physical bodies are designed to protect our most vulnerable parts. So, our hearts and lungs are enclosed by ribs, and our less delicate organs are exterior. Although it hurts like hell to stub a toe, it likely won’t kill you like it might to stub your heart. It’s kind of miraculous and genius, actually.

And yet, we don’t hold our communities this way. We tend to force the most vulnerable to fend for themselves on the margins while the most privileged exist in the center, calling the shots. So, the wealthy, who are pretty much self-sufficient, have everything they could possibly need in their homes, and people who live with cyclical poverty, mental health issues, bad family dynamics, or a host of other troubles, sometimes live without any home at all. People fleeing terrible circumstances in their own countries are left standing at our borders looking in rather than being welcomed. God has cared for us by protecting our most vulnerable parts; why don’t we care for the Body of Christ in the same way?

Years ago, when I worked at the University of Cincinnati, Patrisse Khan-Cullors Brignac, one of the founders of Black Lives Matter, came to speak. One of the things she said has stayed with me ever since. She described how, in developing the movement, they were intentional about centering the most vulnerable. If vulnerable people are protected, then everyone likely has what they need. I don’t know if the movement structures itself that way now, but I thought that was a beautiful way of thinking about community. If the ones in the most need are at the center of care, and the strongest, who can meet their own needs, are at the periphery, then everyone is provided for.

And here we are in a global pandemic. No one‘s doing really great with it all, but who are the most vulnerable? Who are the ones whom we could center for a little extra care? People who were marginalized in the Before Times are having a harder time now. People who had little access to resources have less access now. The fervor of anti-racism that emerged after George Floyd was killed has taken a back step, and discrimination hasn’t gotten better. I also think of our youth and the incredibly high instance of anxiety and depression among children, teens, and young adults, including LGBTQ+ youth whose struggle may be even worse now. How can we surround our young people in a circle of care? I think of teachers, chaplains, and medical professionals who are so depleted. Is there anything we can do to extend care to our full-time caregivers? How can the stronger body parts protect the members of the body who are at real risk now?

Of course, one limitation of this metaphor is that our identities in community are more fluid than our body parts. Sometimes we might identify as the strong ones, but at other times we might be the vulnerable ones, depending on what’s happening and which parts of our identities come to the fore. Some of us have agency in certain circumstances but not in others. For instance, as a middle class educated white person, I tend to walk through life with a great deal of privilege, but in male dominated spaces, as a woman, I can feel silenced. When I’m struggling, I can lean on those with strength to care for me, and vice versa. Healthy community is mutual. Hm. That gives me pause to wonder if maybe this is true of how our bodies function. When everything is working well, the body can feel invincible. When illness or injury sets in, though, that broken arm that was once strong suddenly needs protection. Then the whole body devotes itself to the healing of that broken bone.

We spend time, energy, and resources tending to our health; just a few weeks ago we may have even made resolutions to get healthier. However, what if we devoted that same fervor to caring for the Body of Christ – of which we are all a part? If we usually think of ourselves as an essential part of the body, like a brain or a lung, maybe we could consider the parts of the body that are also essential but ones we may not often notice. If, at the moment, we identify as a less vulnerable part, like a skull or a fist, maybe we could reflect on how to make sure our more vulnerable parts are cared for. And if we identify as a vulnerable part right now, like a heart, maybe it’s okay to rely on the ribs for some support.

We are the Body of Christ. “If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if one part is honored, all the parts share its joy.” In these challenging times, which are desperate times for some of us, how can we nurture the whole Body?

For Reflection:

• What resonates with you about this reading?

• What challenges you?

• When you think about the communities of which you are a part, how do you see yourself? Do you think of yourself as one of the stronger, more supportive members, or do you see yourself as more vulnerable?

• If you think about times when you have felt vulnerable, what are some ways your community, family, and friends have helped you to feel safe and protected?

• And when you feel strong and capable, how do you help yourself to notice others who might need care? How do you help others to feel safe and protected?

• As we’ve spent time thinking about this reading together, what’s God’s call or invitation for you?

Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Coordinating Council of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, dancing, and meaningful conversations.

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