On Canada Day I went to an afternoon pop-up concert put on by the Arkells, who hail from Hamilton. The CBC filmed the performance as part of a special broadcast showing how Canada 150 was celebrated across the country. I’ve been a fan of the Arkells for quite a while, and have always wanted to see them play live.
The stage was set up right in the middle of the street at Belleville and Government. Those, like me, who arrived early to get a good spot were treated to several run-throughs of the songs the band would play as they did a sound check. This really warmed up the crowd and by the time the Arkells began the official performance everyone was in a good mood.
The show was billed as a sing-along and it was clear nearly everyone there was a fan because we all chimed in during the choruses. Everyone knew the words.
As I stood there, belting out lyrics I usually only sing alone in my car, I couldn’t help but get carried away by the mood and spirit of the event. The Arkells had such energy and their enthusiasm was contagious. At the same time the band fed off the response of the crowd. It was clear, too, that they understand the reciprocal relationship they have with their fans. The crowd was there to hear the Arkells, but the band was also on stage only because there were fans to watch. One needed the other in order to exist.
It was, I thought later, a living example of the South African concept of ubuntu, which, roughly translated, means “I am, because you are.” According to ubuntu we are not isolated, self-reliant islands, but connected to and entirely dependent on everything and everyone around us for our very existence.
It’s hard to describe without sounding hokey or trite, but in that moment, the Arkells were more than a band and we were more than an audience. We were something new -- something fleeting and ephemeral, but something tangible all the same. It was a presence that was bigger than ourselves and our petty worries and concerns and judgments.
And it only happened because everyone was there and everyone was included. If even one person had been missing, the experience would have been different, less than.
It also reminded me of Mass, the Eucharist, and what the Church can be. Not that church should be entertainment. Rather, it is a coming together in community, and an embodiment of reciprocity, of ubuntu. In the Church, we all need each other, every single person, to be the true Body of Christ.
We need even the people we think we don’t. The people we consider less than. The people we exclude. Do we ever consider, I wonder, what we lose by excluding? By rejecting? By placing rules on who does and doesn’t belong?
In building a Church that excludes we risk losing our cornerstone. We are human and imperfect in our humanness. So we are forgiven for what we do, but we are lesser for it.
I’m not a big fan of hierarchical, patriarchal language, but I think if we’re searching for the Kingdom of God, the first place we should look is among those we have discarded. That’s where we’ll find the key to becoming something that is bigger than ourselves. To truly being Church.
I think it’s only when we include and celebrate everyone exactly as they are that we can say the Church is the embodiment of God in the world.
Kevin Aschenbrenner is a Victoria-based writer, poet and communications professional. He holds an M.A. in Culture and Spirituality from the Sophia Center at Holy Names University in Oakland, Calif. He blogs at www.dearpopefrancis.ca.
You can read more articles on our interfaith blog The Spiritual View HERE.
