As I’ve shared before, my fiancé Jan and I attend a somewhat unconventional, extremely diverse and international, English-speaking Methodist church here in Munich (for want of a Quaker community, alas). Sometime last year, Jan independently contacted our fearless leader Christine and expressed his desire to become an officially certified, card-carrying Peace Church member. When Christine replied to both of us - assuming Jan’s interest in membership was mutual - I fell over in front of my screen with shock (good thing I have the horrible habit of taking my laptop to bed with me). The interest was not mutual!

Membership? Me? I could see where this was heading: the shackles of indoctrination; enslavement to denomination-specific theological peculiarities; formal Stipulations, Provisions and Articles. Sign Here (muah ha ha)! Okay, fine, I was just being dramatic. But the mere sound of the word “membership” induced anxiety in my unconventional, nondenominational, mystically-inclined, Quaker-lovin’ soul.

I’ve come around. In fact, I will be welcomed into membership next Sunday. Why the dramatic change of heart? The biggest difference is that after talking to Christine, I began seeing membership not as a statement of doctrinal adherence or theological conformity, but as a very personal commitment to a particular gathering of individuals united in God’s love. I may not be ready to pledge adherence to a denomination, but I can and will say to my faith family that I intend to stay, dwell, and care. That is one dotted line I am ready to sign my name on any day.

Membership is also an external signal of a pivotal shift in my approach to the church. In any community, we begin as guests. We observe and discern, admiring the décor. Eventually we take a seat at the table, and are grateful when someone passes us the bowl of steaming rice. First we engage in small talk, then meaningful conversations with our neighbors; we pass someone the salt. But at some point, this is no longer enough. We realize that we are long overdue to take our place in the kitchen (or to light the candles, say the blessing, or design the menu cards). Then we who were guests and strangers become co-hosts, preparing the table so that others can feast.

For a while now I have been praying and thinking about I can bring to the table of our community – not just Peace Church, but the family of us all (that includes you, too, my brother or sister in pyjamas in front of the computer screen). What is it that I can do to make even more abundant the feast prepared in the name of the Guest of Honor? One surprise answer: it’s starting to look like I am going to be ordained.

But I think I will save that for another blog entry (suspense!). Until next time!