Yesterday, we celebrated a wedding anniversary, and in doing so, celebrated a church.
Not a traditional church, though Malkhaz Songulashvili certainly has one of those in Tbilisi’s Peace Cathedral. But one day in the presence of Malkhaz and the other people of Peace Cathedral can challenge you to think beyond what a church, congregation, or faith community means. Our definitions might be too small.
Yesterday was Malkhaz and Ala’s wedding anniversary. Eleven years ago, they went to an amphitheater at the top of a mountain in the Georgian countryside, surrounded by giant metal swords sheathed in the ground that are a striking monument to a significant 13th century Georgian battle. They were also surrounded by some 500-700 friends (numbers vary depending on who you ask) who journeyed across miles and country borders to celebrate the union of two exceptional people.
Every year, they go back to that amphitheater, inviting friends to toast to another year of love and ministry with red wine from juice bottles, fresh bread and cheese, and vegetables and fruit bought from a village on the way to the site. We were among those people this year.
I looked around at the hodgepodge of people: family, deacons, friends, ministry partners, American students from the state of Georgia, and our small team. Children braided wildflowers into each others’ hair. Malkhaz had a sense for when a glass of wine was empty. A lovely woman brought around a traditional Georgian cake, and everyone took a fraction of it. We were having church.
I’ve just met Malkhaz but everything I know about him points to this fact: he is constantly expanding the concept of a faith community. All of his work has brought people together rather than separating them. He teaches comparative religion at the university in Tbilisi, and he acts out that scholarship in his ministry at Peace Cathedral, attending iftars with his Sunni, Shiite, and Sunni Muslim neighbors; having close relationships with the Jewish communities in Georgia; worshipping and celebrating with the misunderstood and constantly persecuted Yazidis; speaking out publicly against the abuse suffered by the LGBT population in Georgia and Russia (and paying a price for his boldness).
These are not overtures to convert these populations in any way, but rather to show them true fellowship and partnership in the name of Jesus. Malkhaz’s faith motivates him to spend his life in service of all people, both those who believe like him and those who believe differently. He has joined with others who want to do the same, and so the work goes beyond him, as his two hands are supplemented and supported by his community of faith in Tbilisi and all over the world.
One more story: the Songulashvili household is home to, at last count, five dogs. These dogs weren’t asked for or expected, but they came nonetheless. When asked about the dogs, Ala is bemused, saying it is Malkhaz’s fault. For instance, someone recently wanted to adopt a dog without its sibling, and Malkhaz said no. He needed the dog to go to a good home, a safe home, a thriving home. So, until then, his family will take care of the pup.
I don’t know Malkhaz well, but I get the feeling that’s how he treats people too, all people: come in, stay here, whoever you are or what you believe. I hope you can find a home where you are safe and loved, and I will help you find one. But for however long you need, you are welcome here.
I think that’s what church is supposed to be like.
Tbilisi Pilgrims 