The Church Universal

A world tour of faithful worship

In his letter to the Galatians, Paul writes that "...in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." (Galatians 3:26-28, NIV)

As always, there is so much to unpack in each of Paul's sentences. But I want to begin by focusing on one of the most obvious parts of his statement, something so obvious we often overlook its full significance: Paul's declaration that there is neither Jew nor Gentile in Christ Jesus. In the context of Paul's letter, this comes first because he is dealing with a group of Christians who believe that all Christians need to become circumcised and follow the Judaic law. Usually, when I hear pastors talk about this part of the passage, it's that distinction between the old covenant and the new covenant that gets brought up.

Yet there's an obvious second component to Paul's point: that ethnic or national differences are also irrelevant in the kingdom of God. Jew and Gentile weren't just religious signifiers (though they were that), but also a basic division between ethnicities. When Paul says "neither Jew nor Gentile," he is saying that the community of faith is meant to cross ethnic, national and political borders in an unprecedented way. But was the way of Jesus, this way that transcends Jew and Gentile, really unprecedented? It's certainly at odds with many of the ancient religions, including Judaism, which saw their God or gods as distinctly national - the God of Israel, the gods of the Babylonians, etc.

Yet there was, in Paul's day, an alternative point of view. The Romans, brilliant conquerors that they were, did not force the Roman gods (which were really just the Greek gods with Latin names - fight me, ancient Romans) onto their conquered peoples. Well, they sort of did, sometimes; but mostly, they let people keep worshipping their own gods, so long as they prayed for the emperor and paid some lip service to Jupiter, etc. The Romans would add each new god or goddess to their own pantheon, so that the deities you worshipped were now Roman gods in some similar way to the more traditional Roman gods.

On its surface, we seem to have another religion that aims to transcend national borders. It's strikingly tolerant and inclusive: keep worshipping whoever you want, but make sure your gods are now working on behalf of Rome. Yet if we look past our initial impression, it becomes clear that this is less universal than it might appear. In the Roman system, religion doesn't become universal: Rome becomes universal. Sure, temples to Jupiter or Mars might pop up in the newly conquered cities, but the Romans weren't really interested in spreading the cult of their pantheon. It didn't matter who you worshipped, it mattered that you became Roman (specifically, that you paid your new taxes and didn't start armed rebellions).

So while this Roman way of doing things was tolerant, it wasn't really universal. And of course, Roman toleration had its limits, as displayed most notoriously in the destruction of the Jewish temple in 70 AD and the intermittent persecution of Christians in the early centuries after Christ. Of course, even in those examples we can see what the true god of the Romans was: the political dominance of the empire. The destruction of the Temple was in response to a Jewish independence revolt; the persecution of the Christians had more to do with their subversive politics (an underrated aspect of Jesus' teaching) than anything to do with their specific religious practice. The only universal aspect of Roman faith was their faith in empire.

When Paul says that in Christ there is neither Jew nor Gentile, therefore, he is going beyond the superficial universality of the Romans to something much deeper. Paul envisions a future where Jesus Christ is worshipped by people who speak every language, who live in all corners of the globe, and yet whose worship is common to all and recognizably Christian regardless of other circumstances. Paul is prophesying a world where the bonds between Christians is stronger, more enduring, than the bonds of ethnicity and nationality.

I don't know if we live entirely in that world now; unfortunately, ethnicity and nationalism still play a pretty big role in our world. In fact, they seem to play a pretty big role in some of our churches, too. And yet, in my life, I've been lucky enough to witness the Church Universal manifest itself in unique ways across the globe. And while each church is unique, each one has been recognizably Christian; and each one has placed the triune God of the bible at the center of its worship.

The last four months alone have given me incredible opportunities to witness powerful worship in a variety of contexts and languages. But I would be remiss if I didn't mention some of the amazing communities I've worshipped alongside in years gone by, as well. Growing up in San Diego, I was lucky enough to witness a few churches hold bilingual English/ Spanish language services, including the church my parents began attending when I was in high school. In Jamaica, the service was in an English I barely recognized, yet the passion of the small church and the elderly folks they cared for was evident.

I could, and probably should, write an entire post about the people I met in the churches of Auckland, New Zealand. But the most lasting memory will be witnessing (and tasting) their incredible potluck meal after the service, when Maori and English were both spoken freely and people of multiple races mingled easily. Afterwards, some guys who probably play for the All Blacks by now kicked our asses in a game of pickup rugby.

The first time I came to Europe, I got the chance to worship with churches in London (on which, more in a moment), Manchester, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and more. Then, in seminary, I spent nearly a month in Jerusalem and was able to worship with a few different congregations there: once, a powerful but strange (to me) Orthodox service at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, another at a dual-language Arab-English congregation. There was something incredibly powerful about worshipping alongside my fellow students in the city at the heart of so many religions; yet more powerful still was the faithfulness of those congregations, who did not take their location for granted yet did not make Jerusalem the focus of their worship in place of Jesus.

Which brings me up to my present travels. I will attempt to be brief, because I could probably wax poetic about the churches I've witnessed for far too long. I've already written a couple times about Fresh Ground, the church who hosted me for two months at the beginning of my journey. But let me just add here the absolute joy of witnessing a congregation in London, led by a pastor from Manchester, with a congregation full of people from not just the UK but Brazil, Portugal, and elsewhere. I've written before about how cool I think their model of church & coffee shop is, but it was pretty amazing to witness in person and gave me much to reflect on as I hopefully engage in missional ministry in the future.

Since leaving London, I've worshipped with a small congregation in Poitiers, where the service was in French but much of it was translated. It was a particularly unique service to attend because the pastor's father-in-law, from Oregon but now running an orphanage school in Mexico, preached the sermon in English. So I got to witness a French service, partly in English, with a pastor who lives in a part of Mexico that's fairly close to my hometown of San Diego.

I've also written already about my time in Auzon, in the south of France, and while I didn't attend an official church service there, it was incredible to live in an intentional Christian community where prayer and spiritual conversation were the norm.

In Italy, I attended the Palm Sunday papal mass in St. Peter's square, which was a surreal experience. The service was mainly in Italian, but portions were in Latin, and there were even prayers said in a variety of languages at one point. The stylistic contrast between the pomp of a papal mass and the far humbler settings of the churches in London and Poitiers was striking; yet their worship services were all recognizably Christian.

I've already told you all about my Easter experience in the hospital instead of at a church service; but the following week I was at my friend Tony's family's church in Athens. That service was in Greek, with Tony's cousins doing their best to translate for us; and while I couldn't follow everything that was going on, it was still beautiful to witness the spiritual fervor of that congregation.

And then this past Sunday, I attended church in Istanbul with a missionary family my parents had met years ago and kept in touch with. That service was entirely in Turkish, with no translation; yet while I couldn't understand the sermon or know exactly what I was singing, it was still clearly and recognizably Christian worship thanks to the universal language of the liturgy.

I write all of this not just to brag about my many travels (though, let's be honest, I'm bragging a little bit). My real point is to highlight that the body of Christ is diverse, yes; spread out across the globe, yes; but also universally Christian. Whether I was worshipping in Jamaica or New Zealand, London or Istanbul, the church's worship has contained elements and movements that are familiar to me from my own church experience growing up in California. Even when I couldn't understand a word of what was said, I was able to know some of what was happening. This is the power of liturgy, of course; but it's also a testament to the amazing faith of which we are a part.

We may still have a long way to go to reach a place where the distinctions between Jew and Gentile are fully transcended in our churches, yet my opportunity to worship across the world has shown me that we are not so far away as we might sometimes think. The God I worshipped in San Diego is the same God who is being worshipped in Edinburgh, Athens, Auckland and Poitiers. The same God looks lovingly on the somber mystery of a Greek Orthodox service at the Holy Sepulchre, the intimate fellowship of Fresh Ground gathering for worship over coffee, the seeking souls of a small village in the south of France, and the majestic displays of papal mass at the Vatican. What matters is not the location, the language, the style; only that God the Father is praised, Jesus Christ is proclaimed as Lord, and the Holy Spirit is invited to move and work. Any church that does these things is part of that universal body that Paul envisioned in his letter to the Galatians.