The Walls Between Us: July 21, 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 9                                              Ephesians 2:11-22                                                           Over a week ago (this was before the shooting) I was listening to a podcast about the election. One person asked what it would take to bring the country together again.  The other person answered, it would have to be a crisis---like 9-11.  Then the person went on to talk about how the country was unified after 9-11, at least for a little while.  I thought, is that really the only way to bring unity?  A terrorist attack that killed over 1000 people and launched a war? Is the only way for our country to be unified to be against someone outside our nation? Then, this Saturday a presidential candidate and former president was shot. A person nearby was killed and two others were critically wounded.  Immediately people called for unity and to lower the temperature of the vitriol that was being spewed out.  I thought, well this might last a few days.  I don’t think we even made it 24 hours.  Let me be clear that I am not blaming one side or the other because it’s coming from all sides.

This reading from Ephesians can seem irrelevant at first glance.  Once the Bible starts talking about circumcision, most Christians tune out.  When Paul referred to those circumcised, he was talking about Jewish people. When he referred to the uncircumcised, that was everyone else.  Circumcision was a physical sign of a very real commitment that the Jewish people made.  At this time (about 70AD), the division between the circumcised and uncircumcised was drastic.  There were few interactions between a Jew and a non-Jew, and those interactions were superficial and limited.  There were no meals together, no inter-marriage, no friendships.

           In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul was saying that this barrier (as impermeable as it seemed) was no longer relevant or necessary because Jesus died on the cross for all.  They were no longer Jew and no longer Gentile.  They were Christians, followers of Christ and that is all that mattered.  Paul wrote, “For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is the hostility between us.”  A lot of people have tried to figure out what wall he was referring to.  Was it a real wall? Was it the wall that divided the temple from the outer courts?  Was it a wall between heaven and earth? 

I am not sure why anyone is debating this as the text is clear.  It’s the hostility between us.  There is no real wall.  Humans have manufactured walls through fear, jealously, anger, and apathy. The walls were created by humans and  for humans. Unfortunately we build pretty good walls, even when they aren’t physical.  That is why Jesus had to live as one of us and then sacrifice himself on the cross. He had to show us what it was to love without walls.   

            “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.” Hearing about the blood of Christ has the same effect on some of us as hearing the word circumcision.  In many Christian communities, there has been an overemphasis on the blood of Jesus.  Some people and groups have attributed magic like qualities to the body and blood of Jesus.  It is the opposite of magical.  The blood of Jesus, and the broken body of Jesus are reminders of Jesus’ sacrifice for each one of us.  Jesus did not make the sacrifice for only one group or one country.  Jesus sacrificed for all of us so that those who were far off would be brought together.

           In this text, Paul wrote, “(Jesus) is our peace.” One of the most achingly beautiful ironies of the Christian faith is that the way Jesus embodied peace was to be executed by the Roman Empire.  We cannot be sure exactly why the Romans executed Jesus.  However, it is most likely because they were afraid that he would inspire people to revolt.  They recognized Jesus as a leader and one who could inspire the masses. The Roman Empire maintained peace through oppression.  They killed the people who threatened their rule.  Jesus’ mere existence threatened their rule. The irony is that this violent sacrifice that Jesus made paved the way for real peace, not peace maintained through violence and fear, but real peace.

           Jesus taught us what that could be. Yet in light of what happened last weekend or the 327 people who are shot daily in the United States alone, I don’t know that we have learned the lesson we were meant to learn. Recently a clergy friend of mine told me she had someone request that they stop exchanging the peace.  She said that they still wanted her to proclaim the peace, but didn’t want the interaction.  And this was not because of germs (although that’s a perfectly valid reason to do a wave instead of a handshake) but because the interaction was simply unnecessary.  That is perfect illustration of how we want peace in our nation.  We want someone to proclaim it, but we don’t actually want the interaction that would enable it.

          I am not exactly sure what that interaction looks like.  But I am sure it’ not between a pundit and their audience or a politician and their political party.  It should be between those who are not already in agreement.  How can we possibly dismantle the walls that are between us if we are too busy throwing rocks over them and then ducking as we await the return fire?

          We celebrate that Christ Church was a place where the signers of the Declaration of Independence and the framers of the constitution prayed.  And I love that.  But they also argued---vehemently.  They argued over who would lead the first prayer for the continental congress. They argued whether there should be a prayer to begin sessions.  They didn’t see these arguments as a sign that they should stop discussing.  It was an opportunity. We liked to think that everyone in our church was pro-independence, but they weren’t.  And when the Civil war came, they were divided then as well.  But here’s what the church has always been pretty good at, coming together in prayer even when we don’t agree.

We celebrate Holy Communion every Sunday.  One of the things we do in communion is we remember the sacrifice that Jesus made for us 2000 years ago.  Jesus knows that humans are fickle and tend to forget things. That is why he asked his disciples to share the bread and wine in memory of him.  Because not only do we remember the sacrifice when we celebrate communion, we come to this table together. Just for a few minutes, we remember that Jesus died so we could dismantle the walls and rethink what community is, what it could be.

Consider all of those who have gathered together at this altar over the years, people who gave disagreed about so many things. Our altar stands as a reminder of what we are called to do as Christians—to come together. Now our church probably has more people who agree than not.  But if you do know someone who is on the other side of the political spectrum (or maybe just a few notches over), offer to pray with them (and don’t say “I’ll pray for you” in that slightly passive aggressive way some people are known to do)—actually pray with them. 

I understand that sitting down and talking to someone who you don’t agree with is hard and I will admit that there are people in my family I can’t talk to about politics, but what if we started to pray with people? I understand, not everyone is the praying sort, but some are. I bet that’s scarier to most Episcopalians than actually talking about politics. If you can’t do it out load, do it silently.  It probably won’t change  them, but it can soften your heart just a little. It might lower that wall. It might bring you some of that peace that Jesus promised so many years ago.  It doesn’t matter where we are on the political spectrum, we all need more peace.

Walls of Hostility: July 22, 2018

Year B, Pentecost 9                                                                
Ephesians 2:11-22                                                                  

 

            When I was being considered for this position at St. John’s, I was reminded on a few occasions of the difference between Hampton and Norfolk (which is where I previously served in a church).  I dismissed these reminders for the most part. My house is 8 miles from here—which is fairly close.  There are plenty of people who go back and forth between Norfolk and Hampton. I will admit that doing it in the summer the HRBT is a form of torture, but other than that, it’s really not a major problem. 

Early on in my time here, it became clear to me that Hampton and Norfolk are different, a lot more different than Norfolk and Virginia Beach or Norfolk and Chesapeake.  There is a different culture. It’s quite fascinating.  We have this division despite modern transportation and communication that is light years ahead of what it was 25 years ago.  It’s odd because normally we associate walls with things that divide us, and bridges with things that connect us.  Yet in Hampton Roads, it is bridges that divide us. Sometimes, I feel like we are East and West Berlin in 1965.

            This reading from Ephesians can seem a little irrelevant at first glance.  Once the Bible starts talking about circumcision, most Christians tune out.  When Paul referred to those circumcised, he is talking about Jewish people. When he referred to the uncircumcised, that  was everyone else.  The circumcision was a physical sign of a very real commitment that the Jewish people made.  At this time (about 70AD), the division between the circumcised and uncircumcised was like North and South Korea today.  That’s not completely accurate, because people did interact with one another.  However it was that drastic.  If there were interactions between Jew and non-Jew, those interactions were superficial and limited.  There were no meals together, no inter-marriage, no friendships.

            In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul was saying that this barrier (as impermeable as it seemed) was no longer relevant or necessary because Jesus died on the cross for all.  They were no longer Jew and no longer Gentile.  They were Christians, followers of Christ and that is all that mattered.  Paul wrote, “For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is the hostility between us.”  A lot of people have tried to figure out what wall he was referring to.  Was it the wall that divided the temple from the outer courts?  Was it a wall between heaven and earth? 

I am not sure why we debate it as it seems to me that the text is clear.  It’s the hostility between us.  There is no real wall.  Humans manufactured the wall through fear, jealously, anger, and apathy.  The wall was created by humans for humans.  Unfortunately we build pretty good walls, even when they aren’t physical.  That is why Jesus had to live as one of us and then sacrifice himself on the cross. He had to show us what it was to love without walls.    

            “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.” Hearing about the blood of Christ has the same effect on some of us as hearing the word circumcision.  In many Christian communities, there has been an overemphasis on the blood of Jesus.  Some people and groups have attributed magic like qualities to the body and blood of Jesus.  It is the opposite of magical.  The blood of Jesus, and the broken body of Jesus are reminders of Jesus’ sacrifice for each one of us.  Jesus did not make the sacrifice only for one group or one country.  Jesus sacrificed for all of us.  If we can truly accept that, we can find ways to come together.  We always say that God loves everyone, but we rarely act like it.  Someone gave me a little coaster that says, “Jesus loves everyone, but I am his favorite.”  We might not say it out loud, but we act like that a lot. If we can try to believe that Jesus died on the cross for every one of us in every part of this world, we might be more inclined to make our own sacrifices. 

            In this text, Paul wrote, “He (Jesus) is our peace.” He doesn’t write that he brought peace. He does not refer to him as the Prince of Peace.  He says, “Jesus is our peace.”  It is one of the most achingly beautiful ironies of the Christian faith--that the way Jesus embodied peace was to be executed by the Roman Empire.  We cannot be sure exactly why the Romans executed Jesus.  However, it is most likely because they were afraid that he would inspire people to revolt.  They recognized Jesus as a leader and one who could inspire the masses. The Roman Empire maintained peace through oppression.  They killed the people who threatened their rule.  Jesus’ mere existence threatened their rule. The irony is that this violent sacrifice that Jesus made paved the way for real peace, not peace maintained through violence and fear, but real peace.

            I am not overly concerned about the divisiveness of the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel (unless of course it’s taking more over an hour to drive 8 miles), but I am concerned about the walls of hostility that we are building all over the world.  Humanity has become adept at erecting walls and that terrifies me.  A couple of years ago, a giant rubber duck ended up in Norfolk.  This thing is 6 stories tall and  travels all around the world.  What astounded me was the number of people from Hampton who went to Norfolk to get a picture the duck.  (You know who you are.) These were people who would never go to Norfolk normally, but the rubber duck brought them there.  I thought, is this really all we need to bring us together---a 6 story rubber duck?  Alas, the duck had to move on to its next port and that ended our temporary connection.  But it made me wonder what it would take to start dismantling our walls.  What is it going to take motivate us?  So often what brings us together is tragedy.  I don’t want to wait for another tragedy.  Frankly, I am not even convinced that would bring us together anymore. 

            We celebrate Holy Communion every Sunday.  One of the things we do in communion is we remember the sacrifice that Jesus made for us 2000 years ago.  Jesus knows that humans are fickle and tend to forget things. That is why he asked his disciples to share the bread and wine in memory of him.  Because not only do we remember the sacrifice when we celebrate communion, we come to this table together. Just for a few minutes, we remember that Jesus died so we could dismantle the walls and live as the community of believers.

            Think of the history of St. John’s, all of the people who have gathered together at the altar.  People fought wars in this town.  People on opposing sides eventually came together at the altar.  Our altar stands as a reminder of what we are called to do as Christians.  We cannot let it end here at the altar.  Church isn’t a temporary cease fire.  It’s a window into God’s dream for us.  Let’s open the windows and show people what it is to be the household of God for the whole world.

What once was small is now great: July 26, 2015

Year B, Pentecost 9                                                             

John 6:1-21                                                                            

            I suspect that most of us have prayed for a miracle at one point in our life.  Sometimes the prayer was answered with that miracle, sometimes we don’t see the miracle.  Of course all of us define miracles differently.  The most common way that we hear miracle described is a transgression of the laws of nature.  It is when something happens that cannot be explained with a rational explanation.  Our faith and our Bible are full of miracles.  Over the years, people have tried to come up with explanations for many of these miracles.  When Moses divided the Red Sea, it was actually the Reed Sea, which is much narrower and at a certain point of the year the Reed Sea is shallow, allowing for easy crossing.   Another theory is that it was the Red Sea but that there was a powerful wind that exposed a reef which the Israelites then crossed. 

            Jesus performed many miracles during his time on earth, things that could not be explained, things that were simply extraordinary.  For every miracle he performed, there are many people who have tried to provide rational explanations.  Consider the Gospel reading for today.  Jesus fed more than 5000 people with five loaves and two fish.  The traditional understanding is that he multiplied the loaves and the fish.  Perhaps the baskets were just bottomless baskets and the bread and the fish never ran out because no matter how much bread was given, the basket was always full.  We don’t know because John doesn’t say how so many were fed with so little, he just says that they were fed until they were satisfied.  The rational explanation is that all of these people actually had bread and fish with them.  It wasn’t like they were carrying around raw fish.  Many people would carry pickled fish when they were travelling. When they saw Jesus giving thanks for what he had, they took what they had and shared.  While this explanation does not defy the laws of nature, it still feels like a miracle to me.

            Every Gospel tells this miracle story.  It is the only miracle story that is described by all four Gospel writers.  They don’t all agree on the particulars.  This is not unusual.  We know that the Gospel writers were all writing at different times with different perspectives.  It is perfectly understandable that they would have different details in their stories.  One of the unique features of John’s version of this story is the boy who brings forward the 5 loaves and 2 fish.  He is not in the other Gospels.

We don’t know if he came up on his own, but Andrew announced that there was a boy and he had food.   You would think that the disciples had some food as we;;. They were pretty much nomads and they probably carried food with them.  Yet none of them pulled out their supply to share.  It was a boy from the crowd.

            I wonder about this boy.  Why did he come to the disciples with his meager offering?  How did he even know that food was needed?  We don’t know, but I have a theory. Perhaps this boy was in the front of the crowd sitting with his parents, watching Jesus with rapt attention.  The boy saw Jesus scanning the crowd with a look of concern on his face.  He saw him talk to his disciples, even saw the disciples trying to convince Jesus to turn the crowd away.  He saw all this and thought to himself, “I bet they are hungry and here I have 5 loaves and 2 fish.  It’s not much, but it’s something.”  He argued with his parents because they didn’t want him to give up their food, maybe the only food they had to sustain them for the day.  They tried to stop him saying that Jesus surely had his own food.  He was a great prophet and a miracle worker.  If he wanted food, he could make it appear out of thin air.  What use was their small offering to this great man? 

But the boy presented the food anyways because he had it and he wanted to contribute in some way to the ministry of this great man.  Maybe he was afraid that that Jesus and the disciples would scoff.  Barley bread was the food of the poor.  They could turn up their noses at him.  It was worth the risk.  So he brought his offering forward, shyly, hesitantly and he pulled on the sleeve of one of the men who was standing close to Jesus.   The man was about to turn the boy away, but then the boy saw something in his eyes, a spark of something he could not describe.  Then the man knelt down and he thanked him and brought him to Jesus saying, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish.” Then Andrew hesitated as if he was second guessing himself.  He added, “But what are they among so many people?” Then the boy knew that this was not just for Jesus and his friends, it was for everyone.  He felt even more foolish, but then Jesus looked down at him and he accepted the bread and fish as though it was precious to him and he thanked him and told him to go sit down.  Then the boy saw Jesus held up the bread that he had given him and gave God thanks.  Baskets were passed and the baskets were full of the bread he brought forward, but there was more, so much more.  What was once little is now great.  His small offering was transformed by Jesus.

            Part of that narrative is my musings, but the end is the Gospel truth.  Jesus took a small offering and he made it great. He shared it with thousands.  How the bread multiplied is not important, but the way it was presented is critical.  We pray for miracles.  We beg for miracles. We wait for miracles.  What we don’t realize is that Jesus is waiting for us too.  Jesus has the power, but he has given us the materials needed for the miracle. He is waiting for us to present those small gifts.  Sometimes the gifts are material things.  Sometimes the gift is who we are as children of God.  Because we live in a time where we worry that we will never have enough, enough time, enough money, enough strength…we hold back on what we share with God.  We think that an hour a week is all that God wants.  But God wants all of us, even when we think that all of us is not good enough.  So I ask that you consider what it is that you have to give and you take one of the index cards at the end of the pew and you write it down.  Then when the plate is passed, you add that offering to the plate as a promise to God of what you will share.  Because no matter how small the gift that you present, God will transform it.  God will multiply it.  What once was meager, what once was small and insignificant is now great.  Each of us carries the materials for a miracle.  Don’t wait for a miracle, start it.