June 5, 2011
What Does Christian Community Look Like?
W. Gregory Pope, preaching
Click arrow to listen
Series: Practice Resurrection
Galatians 5:13-6:2
(Holy Communion)
Once upon a time, there was a young man who lived, for the most part, alone. He lived in a garage apartment behind his brother’s house. And he did everything he could to keep himself isolated from them. He refused their dinner invitations. He hid from them when they came to knock on his door. He did much the same thing with his colleagues at work and the people at his church. He went about his life as quietly and anonymously as he possibly could. He was polite, never even raising his voice, but it was obvious he wanted no part of any real human community.
People’s reactions to him ran the gamut from concern to worry to amusement to shaking their heads in puzzlement. They didn’t know what to make of him. They didn’t know how to make him feel welcome in their everyday world.
One day, the young man showed up at the home of his brother and sister-in-law, Gus and Karen,smiling with excitement. He told them that he had met a young woman through the Internet, and that she was coming for a visit. Her name was Bianca, and she was a half-Brazilian, half-Danish missionary, who did not speak English. She was on a leave of absence to see the world, and had tragically had her luggage stolen. He explained that he was anxious to make her feel welcome, particularly because she was confined to a wheelchair, and he asked his family to be sensitive to her feelings. The young man, whose name was Lars, was clearly thrilled, and his family caught the excitement from him. They readied a room for her. They set an extra place at the table. They waited with big smiles on their faces. A few hours later Lars showed up for dinner, with a 125-pound life-sized doll in tow. (Without getting into more detail, we’ll just say that this doll was not on the Mattel website.) This, he proudly told his family, is Bianca.
By now, some of you may know that I’m telling the story of a film from a few years back entitled “Lars and the Real Girl.” The story of Lars is a compelling one. Throughout the film you can feel his isolation, and you can feel the anxiety of those who love him. And when Bianca comes to town, you enter into everyone’s shock.
As you might imagine, Lars’ family takes him to see the good town doctor, under the guise of having Bianca examined. The doctor diagnoses Bianca with low blood pressure, and asks Lars to bring her in for weekly treatments. In this way, Lars and the doctor can talk, and maybe she can gain some insights into the workings of his mind, while treating him for a delusional disorder.
It is discovered that Lars’ mother died while giving birth to him, leaving Lars and his brother with their father who remained distantly depressed throughout their lives. Lars’ older brother leaves home as soon as he can, leaving Lars for years with his heartbroken father. This gives Lars a debilitating fear of abandonment and intimacy and of anyone having children. And so he’s chosen Bianca because she cannot abandon him.
As for Bianca, The doctor urges Lars’ family to respond to Bianca as if she were a real woman. Very reluctantly, the family goes along with the plan. Bianca is very religious. That is why Lars insists she sleep by herself in the house of his brother and sister-in-law.
In one of the movie’s most hilarious scenes, because this cannot remain a secret, Gus and Karen go to the board meeting of the local Lutheran church to explain the situation.
“Never” is where some of them naturally begin.
“A gold calf!” says another.
But then good old Mrs. Gunter says,
“These things happen. Lars is a good boy.” And then points out that one elder’s nephew dresses up his cats in little girl’s clothing. And announces another’s wife was a kleptomaniac. When the husband objects, she responds, “Then why was she buried wearing my ring!” And another has donated tons of money to an organization investigating UFO’s. That’s when the minister speaks. With a gentle smile, he asks the question, “What would Jesus do?”
When Lars and Bianca arrive for worship the next Sunday, it is a sight to behold! Just imagine if one Sunday, there on the pew beside ____________, there was this life-sized doll! How would you react? But in the film it feels as if a miracle has taken place. This community of faith offers the gift of hospitality, kindness and compassion. They accept Lars . . . and Bianca. And their acceptance moves out from the church to include the entire community. This little mid-western town welcomes Bianca with open arms. They have her to dinner. They invite her and Lars to parties. They take her bowling. She volunteers at the hospital. She goes to church with Lars, and someone holds a hymnal up for her. The hairstylist gives her a makeover, and the owner of the boutique asks her to model clothing. They give Bianca a part time job and a spot on the town school board.
And in the meantime, Lars, by taking Bianca to these places, suddenly has more interaction with his family and neighbors than he has in a long, long time. The welcome mat looks as if it has been put out for Bianca, but it is Lars who is being embraced by his hometown. The sight of all these people making nice to a life-sized doll makes you laugh at first. But then it hits you: these fairly conservative, mid-western people are kind to Bianca because they care about Lars. And as the townspeople bring Bianca into their lives, Lars blooms. Bianca becomes a channel that lets Lars connect to others. The reclusive man everyone had pitied becomes a vibrant part of the community.
One morning, Lars announces that Bianca is unresponsive, and she is rushed to the hospital by ambulance. With his family gathered there, he tells them the prognosis is not good and that Bianca would like to be brought home. The news spreads through town, and everyone whose life has been touched by Bianca sends flowers or sits with Lars at the Lindstrom home. They explain to him that this is what one does in times of trauma. People come and sit. They bring casseroles and their knitting, and they sit.
It is not long until he tells his family that Bianca has died. It’s a decision that Lars makes himself because he is clearly ready for a human relationship. At her funeral, where all the townspeople attend, Reverend Bock says: Lars asked us not to wear black today. He did so to remind us that this is no ordinary funeral. We are here to celebrate Bianca’s extraordinary life. From her wheelchair, Bianca reached out and touched us all, in ways we never could have imagined. She was a teacher. She was a lesson in courage. She was a gift to the community. And Bianca loved us all. Especially Lars. Especially him.
At the grave side, Lars and Margo, a co-worker who has always had a romantic interest in Lars, the two linger for a while. And Lars’ final acceptance of his past joined with the love of his community makes him whole.
The movie admittedly strains belief. Small towns are not that wonderful. In reality, somebody - if not lots of people - would have treated Lars as an object of mockery and scorn and he would have been the butt of hurtful jokes and laughter. But what we need to realize is that this film is a fable, a parable. It isn’t describing the way things are, but rather, the way they ought to be, the way they might be, a taste of what the church might be like, if . . .
Lars’ brother, Gus, who feels guilty about abandoning his brother to a household of lonely depression, is able to acknowledge to Lars what he did, and can finally say, “I’m sorry.” And then receives forgiveness from Lars. It is a picture of real confession and how it can truly bring healing.
This movie turns my imagination toward dreaming of our church. Lots of people like Lars here. All of us some of the time, or in some way. We know that loneliness, that need to connect, the things that keep us stuck, the hurts we need to forgive, the people we need to embrace. Some of us hide our needs better than others, but we are all wounded. Maybe it’s an addiction. Maybe it’s some emotional wound suffered in childhood. Maybe it’s a disability that makes us feel less than whole. Maybe it’s a sin that marked us to the community. Maybe it’s just something that made us different. We hunger for a different way of living, a healing community of faith. Where we put away anger and strife, jealousy and dissensions, and we live love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, self-control. Where we do not use our freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. Else, Paul says, we devour and destroy one another. It is our responsibility to use our freedom in such a way that it shapes the character of this community of faith into a place of unconditional love. And we must nurture the life of the Spirit within us in order for the Spirit to shape our character. We are called to encourage and support each other when we fall, offering each other the forgiveness and restoration God has offered us all. “Let us not become conceited,” Paul says, “competing against one another, envying one another. But restore one another in gentleness and bear one another’s burdens.”
Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche communities, has written, “Almost every one finds their early days in a community ideal. It all seems perfect. They feel they are surrounded by saints, heroes, or at the least, the most exceptional people who are everything they want to be themselves. And then comes the let-down. The greater their idealization of the community at the start, the greater the disenchantment. If people manage to get through this second period, they come to a third phase - that of realism and true commitment. They no longer see other members of the community as saints or devils, but as people - each which a mixture of good and bad, darkness and light, each growing and each with their own hope. The community is neither heaven nor hell, but planted firmly on earth, and they are ready to walk in it, and with it. They accept the community and the other members as they are; they are confident that together they can grow toward something more beautiful.”
May God continue to shape us into something beautiful.