Better Than One: It Takes a Village
Day 1: It Takes a Village
“It takes a village…”
The often-quoted African proverb is usually strictly understood in the context of raising children—obviously so—considering the rest of the quotation, “…to raise a child.” But for those of us who grew up in a village, the phrase could actually be completed in a million other ways.
The village touched, nourished, cheered, jeered, infringed on, invaded—it was there to mourn, to support, to help, to heal, to gossip, to criticize, to advise. Ask any child who grew up in the folkways of the past—before "progress" brought its isolation and its independence—and that child will tell you of “the time when”—discipline was appropriated by a random neighbor, supervision was assumed by an available adult.
Function in community was often born of necessity—simple things like night visits to the latrine or walks home from Wednesday night prayer meeting required at least two people to combat the dangers of a pitch-black tropical darkness with no streetlights. It mattered little that these “dangers” mostly existed in realms other than the practical or the physical—the fear of stepping on a "crapaud" (toad or frog) or encountering a "jumbee" (spirit of the dead)—was gripping, and intense, and real.
But community also wove itself through the fabric of everyday life—through the cycles of living and dying, when the midwife arrived with her bag, and when the women congregated to bathe the dead.
It was there to “bark” my sister in a bath of pungent plants and herbs when she became sick, and it was there to cheer me on when I was chosen at school to present a bouquet to the Governor’s wife at the opening of the new cemetery.
All this is perhaps the reason I am so intrigued by the strong sense of community in the Bible, particularly in the gospels and in the Acts of the Apostles. In the houses full of mourners—Jairus’ Mary and Martha’s, Dorcas’, in the crowds gathering to see, to hear, to gape, in an execution scene on a hill, the details of community are familiar, poignant, real, authentic.
And the teachings of Jesus, and of the entire Bible are built on God’s design for togetherness, and interdependence, and mutual support:
Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12).
In His parables, in His instructions, in His interactions, Jesus shows us how to help each other up, how to find warmth in companionship, and how to defend each other. He gives us individual power, but multiplies power in community. It was the same principle explained to God’s people centuries ago:
Five of you will chase a hundred, and a hundred of you will chase ten thousand, and your enemies will fall by the sword before you (Leviticus 26:8).
Because for our lives, for our witness, for our responsibilities in the kingdom of God, it takes a village.
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