“I, a prisoner for the Lord,

urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received,

with all humility and gentleness, with patience,

bearing with one another through love,

striving to preserve the unity of the spirit

through the bond of peace:

one body and one Spirit,

as you were also called to the one hope of your call;

one Lord, one faith, one baptism;

one God and Father of all,

who is over all and through all and in all.”

We are individualists. For some of us, the American Ideal is captured in the image of the cowboy, perhaps John Wayne or the Marlboro Man, riding on the plain: rugged, independent, stoic, and strong. The power of that image may have lessened some, but I was caught by a version of it the first time I visited Colorado, envisioning myself alone in a thousand mountain acres, being quite happy living off the land. That visit was just after I had spent six weeks in Japan, where the cultural image was the collective, not the individual. Often, when eating out in Japan, the eldest would order for everyone, or once the eldest ordered, everyone else would order the same thing. Why? As it was explained to me, if everyone ordered the same thing, then the group would benefit because the food would come quicker, as well as, make the job easier for the cooks. This is a small example, but as Spock once said, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. When I was younger, in our culture of choice, preference, expression, opinion, and individualism, I wouldn’t even order the same meal as anyone else in the group. In fact, I have change my order after someone at the table coincidentally ordered what I was going to order before me, just to be different. Sheesh, I can almost hear the Duke say, “Well, don’t fret about that, pilgrim.”

In the larger scheme of things, I’m not particularly advocating for one cultural approach over the other. The distinct gifts and wisdom of the individual can be lost to the collective mindset. There needs to be a balance, but we are often skewed to the individual. We are often more about the “I” than the “we.” Even in our faith journey, we can place our individual preferences, wants, needs, and desires at the center. In my first summer at St. Pats, someone came up to me and complained about the temperature in church (not uncommon at the time). I tried to explain the consideration that had gone into various temperature settings and that we were trying to get it right, but, perhaps ill-advisedly, I tried to lighten the moment by joking that I had on four layers of clothing for mass. The stern response was, “Father, when we went on vacation and went out to eat, the restaurant was too cold and I told the host. His said that they kept it cool for the wait staff who had to work so hard. We got up and walked out.” That’s not how we should approach church. We are not consumers paying for a product or service, with staff to cater to us. We are all disciples, called to love God and neighbor, take up our cross daily to follow Jesus, and die to self so that we may bear much fruit. It is subtle, but we are called to give and receive, not take for ourselves. 

Although not strictly individual, our faith is personal. We are grafted into the vine, made part of God’s family, and share in his mission. Paul reminds us that we are part of something greater than our individual selves and should sacrifice (love) for the good of all. The most used word in this passage is “one.” That’s not applied to us as individuals, but for the group. It’s what makes us one: one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one Father, who is over all and through all and in all.