(Editor’s note: As we enter Holy Week, we’re holding space for the parts of the story that feel unresolved — the places where loss lingers and hope is hard to see. These reflections by our CSA staff invite us to pay attention to what God may be doing in the middle of it, not just after it.)
On the second Sunday of every month, the members of my church know it’s time for our favorite fellowship tradition. Tables and chairs are rolled out in the fellowship hall. Crockpots and platters of cookies line the kitchen counter. On second Sundays, when the worship service ends, the potluck begins.
Potlucks are a reliable and cherished rhythm of our congregational life. Spending time together over a meal connects our hearts, strengthens our friendships, and fills our bellies. When we gather to share conversation and break bread together, we catch a glimpse of the goodness of the resurrection.
As a community in Washington, D.C., the Venn diagrams of our personal lives, careers, and political opinions overlap quite a bit. The national political chaos of the last 18 months has deeply impacted many among us who are called to serve our neighbors and nation through our work. Rather than leaving politics at the door, we lean into the question of how to be faithful Christians in this moment. At potlucks, we catch up on the highs and lows of how the headlines are shaping our days. It’s part of our community’s flavor — and one we’ve chosen to embrace.
Throughout the Bible, including in the ministry of Jesus, we see food, meals, and hospitality woven into all kinds of settings. Jesus celebrated at wedding banquets. He dined with close friends and with those on the margins. He instructed his disciples to stay in people’s homes, to be in community wherever they went. During Holy Week, Jesus’ final meal became one of the church’s central practices — connecting believers across time and place through the Eucharist.
The familiarity and necessity of food connects us across the centuries to these stories. And Christ invites us to satisfy not only our physical hunger but also our spiritual hunger with his love and peace.
Of course, community is not always neat or predictable. Church life can be messy. When congregations fracture or people are marginalized, it can be hard to see Jesus in those moments. What happens when we think we belong somewhere, and then things fall apart? Does resurrection still show up there?
Our congregation has had difficult conversations. We don’t always agree on theology. Busy schedules and geographic distance make it hard to sustain the rhythms of connection we long for.
And yet, even in our imperfections, I find myself imagining how the best parts of our life together will be made whole in the resurrection. Where we fall short, Jesus fills the gaps. He meets us with grace and forgiveness and invites us to keep striving toward his example.
I also think of those who are hesitant or afraid to show up in community at all. Immigrants who have taken risks to begin again, only to find their future uncertain. Our unhoused neighbors without a place to call home. Or even those within our congregation who, like Doubting Thomas, aren’t sure God’s goodness can really be trusted.
As Jesus reaches toward those on the edges of society, I wonder what it would look like for us to embody resurrection in our neighborhoods. Who in my church might be on the margins, waiting to be welcomed in? Who in my neighborhood is feeling alone — and could be invited to our table?
Spending time together intentionally and imperfectly has helped us push back against despair. In community, we are challenged and encouraged. We are reminded that we belong. My Christian communities are where I most often see signs of God’s kingdom taking root here on earth. In these spaces, we are welcomed. We are known. We are needed.
As Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes in Life Together,
“The more genuine and the deeper our community becomes, the more will everything else between us recede, the more clearly and purely will Jesus Christ and his work become the one and only thing that is vital between us.”
There is always enough food to go around at potluck. Plates filled with lentil soup, fresh salads, homemade bread, and something sweet from the dessert table are passed from hand to hand as conversation flows across generations. I can imagine Jesus among us — laughing with the kids dancing between tables, asking thoughtful questions, drawing people in.
When God’s kingdom comes in fullness and all things are made new, I like to think that some of our celebrations will look like this: an abundant table, where everyone is welcome.
Alyssa Sickle is the associate director of operations with Christians for Social Action. She joined the CSA staff after more than 10 years of working with faith-based volunteer and mission programs, focusing on fundraising, event planning, and membership support. After graduating from the University of Maryland, she served as a collegiate missions assistant in France with Greater Europe Mission, and she has participated in and led a variety of short-term service trips. She is thrilled to support CSA’s initiatives that promote God’s love and justice. She lives in Maryland with her husband and three young children.
