The Celebration of Transformation: A Path to Remedy Loneliness

In a world increasingly marked by individual loneliness and isolation, societal disconnection and discord, there lies a unique opportunity for communities of faith to major on connection, renewal, but, most importantly, the celebration of transformation. Simply put, there would be a huge benefit for the church to learn how to throw a really good party.

I know religious communities don’t really have that party animal reputation. The cops aren’t usually called to settle things down at the Sunday School class or church picnic; but I’d like to suggest that the tranquil celebrations on church grounds have much more to do with us than with God. There is actually a surprise that awaits anyone who picks up the Bible for the first time. It’s unexpected and unbelieved, but the Bible actually, through and through, from beginning to end, seems to have this insistence on and adoration for a really good party.

Contrary to the rumors and stereotypes of dust-covered irrelevance and regressive intolerance that paints people of faith as somber and overly-restrained, and their gatherings much the same, the Bible reveals a God who delights in festivity, values togetherness, demands rejoicing, and spares no expense and cares not about noise when personal and communal transformation are involved. It’s not a dry account of laws but, rather, a lively prescription for joy and community.

And there-in lies the current opportunity, challenge, and question, amidst both ecclesial decline and societal loneliness in epidemic proportions: will communities of faith pause to reread this story, receive the invitation anew, and allow it to help us rethink what it means to celebrate?

It’s gotten a bad rap, but it's actually the Book of Leviticus where God first demands that the people party and then outlines, detail by meticulous detail - from the guest list to the menu, how to throw a party people will remember. Chapter by chapter, festival after festival, party after party, with some lasting for weeks, God would command the people to stop working, loosen up a bit, and join the party.

“These are the parties that I appoint to be mandated for you,” says the Lord: this divine invitation to embrace life, to step away from the burdens of the daily grind, to pause and loosen their grip on self-dependence, self-provision, self-control, and to revel in the joy of togetherness.

Just imagine it: a vibrant community, liberated from the chains of oppression, now spurred on to remember the joy of living. After four centuries of enslavement in Egypt, the Israelites had forgotten how to celebrate until Moses liberates them from bondage and into a new life, guides them not just on a physical journey but an identity transformation, and reminds them how to party.

It’s one of the reasons why the story of the God of Israel and the story of Jesus got slapped together as one continuous story. With Jesus, there is this uncanny continuation of this divine emphasis in celebration. Over and over again, Jesus finds himself at the center of gatherings, criticized for his penchant for feasting and companionship and “partying too much” by pharisees and other guardians of decorum wishing he would embody a more austere, somber, religious demeanor that aligned with their expectations of faithfulness.

In parables, Jesus speaks of the joy that lies in finding what is lost and invites us, all of us, across time and space, to consider what we would do if we lost a sheep or a coin. Would we leave the healthy ninety-nine sheep for the one decrepit sheep, and then cry, “Come party with me. I’ve found 1/100th of everything I own,” upon return? Or would we, having lost a quarter, sweep the whole house, turn the couches upside down, sweep out the duct work, and upon finding the quarter shout, “Come celebrate with me, for I’ve found twenty-five cents,” from the roof tops? And the answer is: of course we wouldn’t.

But the Bible it’s a story about us. It’s a story about the God who can’t help to throw a party when transformation happens; and there’s a real opportunity at this very moment within our cultural landscape for moral leadership and communal clarity from the church through celebration.

When new life is found, when a life is changed, when transformation breaks out, communities of faith should pull out all the stops. When anyone who’s lost, cut off reality, relationship, dignity, community, finds new life, communities of faith should respond as if heaven just exploded, angels grabbed their harps, cherubs got in line for the club, and God just let off fireworks. When transformation occurs—whether in the life of an individual or within a community—God rejoices, and so should we. That thing called the Kingdom of God that the Bible talks about is not just abstract theology; it’s a vibrant community where transformation is celebrated at every turn.

Yet, in our contemporary landscape, the busyness of our over-scheduled day-to-day, the intensity of demands or perceived demands, the transiency of life in and just outside the big city, the entrenched political, racial, and socioeconomic divides, the rarity of real friendship, and the scarcity mindsets of religious institutions have served to crash the party.

Along the way, we’ve become a society of lonely people, who, like the Israelites, have forgotten how to party and for whom connection, celebration, even friendship have become values we’re almost resigned to losing along the way in our pursuit of everything else. Despite the fact that, in some sense, religious communities haven’t been immune to this epidemic of loneliness, this incredible, gaping hole in human relational health should unnerve us all and jolt communities of faith out of our amnesia.

The Didiche, an ancient book of the faith, older even than the Bible itself, actually depicts this cultural malaise and ecclesial and communal amnesia as an alternate party, as one of the two parties going on in the world around us. One party centers on death and all its allures - greed,

lust, despair, often masquerading as achievement, self-improvement, and independence - and ultimately leads to brokenness and isolation. The other party, the one we are called to join, the one the Bible tells us God has been throwing all along, celebrates life, hope, and transformation and fosters connection and healing.

A poignant example of the second party the Didiche describes, the party of transformative celebration, I have come to believe can be found in Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). In AA, individuals gather not only to confront their struggles but to celebrate the journey towards recovery. I’ve witnessed the transformation of friends in this community as they have sought refuge and renewal and found a place where their stories are met with understanding and celebration rather than judgement.

In a conversation about faith and community a few years ago, one of these friends reflected on her experience with the church. She could appreciate the beautiful hymns and was often moved by the ritual of communion; but often she felt that most congregations she had been to were just content with upholding the status quo instead of inviting transformation. She said, “I don’t need a pat on the back. I need a new life now;” and her words resonate as this reminder of the charge and opportunity for communities of faith to strive not just for acceptance but for genuine change and to celebrate that, like the God of the universe does, with all the glitter and glam, swag bags and swizzle sticks.

The call to transformation is universal. God is throwing a party and the only price of admission is the desire to be transformed. But the need for communities that embrace and celebrate that transformation in ways that reconnect people in mind, body, spirit, soul to themselves, their community, and the partying God, is not just universal, it’s the vaccine for the mental, emotional, relational, and spiritual epidemic of our time.