One of the expressions of individualism in contemporary American culture is the stress on each person being unique. We tell our children that they are special and different from other children. We look for signs that demonstrate exceptional intelligence or physical ability. We want to recognize the things that make our children different from their peers.

Developmental psychologists point out that the process of individuation is a natural stage of maturation. During adolescence, young people look for ways to understand themselves as unique and different from their parents and from other members of their families of origin.

One of my favorite educational theorists, Howard Gardner, developed the theory of multiple intelligences, part of which is an embracing of the differences between children and a search for exceptional qualities. One child might demonstrate excellent verbal-linguistic skills, while another might show musical genius. Another child might be mathematically brilliant while yet another child shows great skill at interpersonal relationships. The theory has inspired a great deal of my curricula writing and other educational work.

We all want to think that we are exceptional. We are special. We are different. Our highly competitive, individualistic culture encourages that kind of thinking. In some tribal societies such individuality is not encouraged. Being the same as others and thinking about the common good is emphasized. Individual success is downplayed in favor of things that produce success for the entire clan or group.

I like to think that I live my life in a meaningful and purposeful manner and that I have honed my natural skills and abilities so that I have made the best of the unique gifts I have received. But what if there really isn’t anything that unique about me? What if, at my core, I am not all that special, but just like everyone else? It is a thought worth pursuing.

For several years now I have listened to the show “On Being” with Krista Tippett. The show, formerly called, “Speaking of Faith,” features in-depth interviews with people whose lives and work make a difference in the world. Recent interviews have included Congressman John Lewis, acoustic biologist Kay Payne, Poet and actor Kevin Kling and Father Greg Boyle. Tippett is a skilled interviewer who brings out the best in those with whom she speaks as she asks questions that explore the ecology of meaning that leads people to make deep contributions to the world.

One of my fantasies is that someday Krista Tippett would decide to interview me. I can imagine having a deep and meaningful conversation about how worship is crafted, about the survival of a mainline congregation in the midst of institutional decline, about the development of grassroots mission and engaging people in hands on service, and a hundred other topics. But that fantasy is accompanied by a negative image. What if Krista Tippett were to take time to interview me and I had nothing deep or especially meaningful to say? What if she was to ask probing questions and I would not have any truly meaningful insights? I can imagine that I might be proven to be shallow and trite and my words devoid of lasting meaning.

There is a piece of this kind of thinking that lies at the core of incarnational theology. We want to think of the incarnation as the creation of a perfect human being. Jesus is God in human form, but when God becomes human it isn’t like we are human. God becomes human without sin and without mistakes and without the normal trappings of human existence. The stories surrounding Jesus tend to emphasize the ways in which he was exceptional. He resisted temptation for 40 days in the wilderness. He asked stunning questions of the elders in the temple at the age of 12. He listened to people that others ignored. He lived an exemplary life in every way. As soon as we think of Jesus, we think not of his humanity, but rather of his divinity.

On Sunday we will celebrate communion once again. We celebrated a lot during Holy Week and experienced the sacrament through a variety of different liturgies. I am aware of how much we want to emphasize the holy in that meal. We like to get out the special chalices and plates, to bring out the special dishes and make special preparations. We say special prayers and eat in a careful and thoughtful manner. We understand the holiness of the meal.

But we struggle with Jesus’ humanity. We don’t want to think of Jesus as common or ordinary. And the problem with that kind of thinking is that we fail to see Jesus in the everyday. Jesus didn’t say, “Do this, on special Sundays with special dishes and special prayers and special ceremony, in remembrance of me.” He said, “Do this as often as you eat and drink, in remembrance of me. We remember Jesus in the high and holy ceremonies. We tend to forget Jesus in the quick meal of peanut butter sandwiches and reheated coffee. But every meal, shared in love is sacred. Every conversation that involves a genuine encounter with other human beings is holy. Whenever a meal is prepared with love, Christ is present in our midst.

The truth is that when we open our eyes, we discover that God is constantly at work in this world. We don’t need to somehow push for exceptional talents or behaviors. We don’t need to take spectacular risks or go places no one else has gone before. We are already exactly what God had in mind when God made us. God loves us the way that we are. We don’t have to do or be anything different than who we are. The incarnation is precisely the coming of God to humans in human terms, not the rising of humans to some ethereal, divine level. We don’t need a tower of Babel. God is right here, right down to earth, walking alongside us in the nitty-gritty of human living.

Perhaps communion with peanut butter sandwiches and reheated coffee served on the everyday dishes isn’t such a bad idea after all.

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