As to beauty, the basement of our parish church leaves much to be desired. With its hard stone floors and rather dim lighting, this space possesses precious little grace or style. It looks like a place for storage rather than for people to come together for food and company.

And yet, on this site take place some of the most important activities sponsored by the parish. This is where people arrive each Saturday morning to receive food to take away with them uncooked or, on Wednesdays during Advent and Lent, to eat a meal served to them by volunteers.

At noontime on a recent Wednesday, I came there to help serve the meal. With the other volunteers I stood behind the tables, waiting on the men and women who filed by. My job was to preside over the desserts; that meant ladling out the rice pudding and making sure that everyone got what they wanted of the fruit, cookies, and other dessert offerings.

Before the guests came by, we all stood and grasped hands to sing a blessing over the food. This music was not a solemn hymn but rather a jaunty tune with words I did not recognize. This blessing seemed to lift the hearts of people in the group before we sat down to eat.

Not all of those who lined up to receive food were guests from outside. Some were insiders, members of the parish who had come to share fellowship with the visitors. Among those parishioners already known to me I noticed Frances, a college sophomore, who sat and ate with some of the older people from outside the parish.

This mingling of visitors and parish regulars seemed to me important because it made being there easier for the homeless and other people lacking money who had come because they needed a nutritious meal.

My reason for describing this parish lunch in some detail is because I see it as an important manifestation of community. To me, it expresses who we are spiritually, a community of believers who try to extend to others the love we have received ourselves.

Serving food to others in this setting is not mere “do-goodism” but rather an action grounded in spirituality. As people blessed by the Lord, we think it vital to share the inner wealth given us by God. And since Christians believe that Jesus gave himself in the form of bread, what better way is there for us to share his love?

This sharing of bread with the hungry strikes me as an answer to a problem recently raised by a group of lay leaders in the parish. They feel concern that we are not a community for enough of our members. Too many feel isolated, cut off from personal contact with others.

For instance, a woman who has been coming to our parish church for two years regrets that she has never spoken to anyone during that time and no one has spoken to her. Probably she has shared a word or two with the people around her when exchanging the kiss of peace during the liturgy of the Eucharist, but nothing otherwise.

In response to this situation the lay leaders have issued a call to action designed to change isolation into community. They have taken this initiative because they see community as located at the heart of Christianity.

Christians also believe themselves joined together with Christ and one another with bonds that go beyond what can be seen. These mystical connections are what give the church its basic character –  –  though, admittedly, the church often does not live up to this character.

Christians also feel their church’s call to social justice aiming at human rights for all people, especially those now impoverished and needy. Without community, precious little progress toward peace and justice can ever be achieved.

Left to ourselves, we Americans are notoriously individualistic in the way we live and in what we value. So to push for more community, as the parish lay leaders wish, will require going against some of the values of our culture.

I feel thankful for the opportunity to have shared a meal as one of a community of people needing nourishment, both physical and spiritual.

Richard Griffin