Coffee, Community and Facebook

Yesterday, I stopped at my local North Shore coffee shop, a non-descript but hospitable escape called Hoi Polloi, on North Ave. at Galveston. Inside was the usual Saturday morning gathering of my neighbors. They are more than neighbors, however. These good folks are becoming my friends.

I sat down with couples, singles, and kids coloring and playing with a "Mr. Potato Head". I watched four year old Annie become entranced by Tony's expertise as he morphed Mr. Potato Head into a variety of spud faces. Software engineers, journalists, physicians, arts educator and two unemployed professionals "between gigs"as one called himself (and me). (including me as of last week).

I easily engaged in the topic of the morning - "social networking". Facebook seemed to be the rage, though Twitter (which I simply don't get - yet) had some following. I quickly became Facebook "friends" with Tony and Sue. Tony asked me if I ever thought about starting a "cyber church" - a cyber network of those who would probably never enter a church door. This caught my ear. And my imagination. When was the last time you saw a church door that was open? Or, for that matter, one that wasn't a solid wooden barrier blocking the "narrow way" to God?

Our little group exhibited no apparent barriers - our diversity and commonality manifested human "community" because we share a commitment to life on the Northside/Northshore of Pittsburgh. We live in the old, restored homes of the neighborhood and create gatherings to enjoy our holidays and events. The sense of "community" exists because of an active social network that arose from common passions and vision for an urban neighborhood.

Hoi Polloi's door may be a non-descript "plain Jane" brown. But it does sport a small window that opens to a world of caring friendships for a disparate collection of neighbors. Different careers, straight, gay, white, African American, jobbed and jobless, we sat around our table telling our stories and laughing our way into the weekend.

I began to feel like I "belonged." I became more whole and complete as this social network wove their lives into mine and mine into theirs. My 35 years of church ministry is only slightly spotted with this experience of acceptance and "belonging." The closed church door is my metaphor for the way we become closed to most of Jesus call to go out to the entire world as Christ's abassadors who lead to open doors of love. Rather than risk exhibiting God's dream for all humanity, we send a message that "church" is about "church", not people.

I wonder if Tony could help me recreate a congregation as creatively as he morphs Mr. Potato Head?

I thank God for Facebook. And my neighbors.

Bob Anderson

Presbyterian Transitional Ministry Leader

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