Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-44, 53-56
I feel compelled this week to return to a meeting I mentioned in an earlier lectionary reflection.
I need to go back to the meeting I had with South Carolina presbytery executives on June 16th. We met to talk about issues of race. Now, in the wake of the events of June 17th in Charleston, I am aware that I did not fully appreciate their powerful witness. In the days that immediately followed those tragic murders, talk felt wholly inadequate. I in no way want to imply that I didn’t genuinely appreciate our conversations. They were sincere and left me eager to follow up on them. But in the days following the brutal killing of nine African Americans in their church, I didn’t understand the depth of truth that meeting revealed.
Frankly, I was angry. Angry at myself for being so naïve as to think racism was waning. Angry that due to that naivety or inertia or complacency, I had done little to listen to others whose experience is different than mine, little to build relationships and bridges, little to demonstrate the unity won for us in Jesus Christ. I am still angry with myself about all of the above. However, after eulogies and rallies and paying my respects at the State House and listening to hours of debate and the Confederate flag being removed and… and… and… I am beginning to understand three deep truths, all of which were voiced at that meeting with those four men on June 16th, all of which demand our attention in the wake of June 17th.
First, African Americans in this country live in a hostile society.
Second, we don’t know each other.
Third, eating meals together is essential.
It is the events in South Carolina and the three truths of that meeting just prior that have shaped my reading of the texts this week. I hope some of these reflections will apply to your context, too. I have a strong suspicion they do and will.
I read the text from Ephesians this week in both lament and hope. I read, “remember that you were at one time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now…” and I lament that so often we have lived as if we are still hopeless alien strangers to God and therefore to one another. I lament all the ways I personally, and we as the church corporately, have lived as if Christ had not come and reconciled us to God and to one another.
I think we need to confess this. Perhaps this Sunday’s prayer of confession should name the reality of separation. Honestly take stock of how and from whom you and your congregation are set apart – as in Pharisee not as in holy.
There was a church I used to drive by with some regularity that had a beautiful playground directly in front of the sanctuary. It had a sign with the name of the church attached to the high, chain linked face that surrounded the playground. The sign was right beside the gate. The gate had a padlock. It sent a powerful message.
We too send those messages in many, many ways – sometimes literally, frequently in the language we use, the accessibility (or not) of our buildings, the times of our meetings, the format or our worship and the intentionality (or not) of our welcome.
Just this week I received an email from my neighborhood association admonishing us to take great caution as a stranger (!) had been seen walking (!) in our neighborhood. We were urged to call the police immediately if we saw someone “who just does not belong.” How, one wonders (or not), are we to determine if someone “just does not belong” and what is the issue with walking on public streets?
Clearly, to some, my neighborhood is a hostile environment. How about our churches? Are they hostile to someone who does not dress as most do on Sunday morning? Is it hostile to parents of children unable to sit still for an hour? Is it hostile to those who have hearing or vision or mobility impairments? Is it hostile to those who don’t look like the majority of those gathered? Is it hostile to a same-gender couple? Is it hostile to someone of a different theological bent than our pastor or members?
I read Ephesians 2:11-22 and I lament that our world, and even our congregations, do not reflect the “but now” truth of this text.
Paul uses “but now” a lot. Nuni de, but now, when you see this phrase pay attention because Paul is about to detail our extreme makeover in Christ. “You were THIS, BUT NOW you are THIS!” It is both already and not yet, present and aspirational.
The truth is, through Christ, we are no longer far off. We have been brought near by the blood of Christ. “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.” Did you get that?? This is huge. The blood of Christ has broken down the hostility between us. This is the hope, the hope that is not ours to conjure or create, it IS. There is one new humanity in place of two. Jesus Christ has reconciled us into one body through the cross, thus putting to death the hostility through it.
Jesus Christ has put to death hostility. Please, please, preach this on Sunday. Proclaim it. Claim it. Hold up this truth. The world belies it in so many ways and yet, and yet… we have seen it in the most remarkable ways recently, haven’t we?
The families of those murdered nine have spoken forgiveness.
A descendant of Jefferson Davis pleaded for the Confederate flag to be removed, saying heritage doesn’t matter.
A group of Muslims raised $35,000 to rebuild African American churches destroyed by fire.
People of every background have gathered together to pray.
Don’t you have your own examples? Haven’t you seen dividing walls come down? Haven’t you seen a formerly homophobic parent attend their gay son’s wedding? Haven’t you seen two elders on polar opposite ends of theological spectrum pray with one another? Haven’t you seen estranged couples come back together? Haven’t you seen feuding families rally around to help a struggling grandchild? Haven’t you seen congregations torn apart by schism heal?
That’s why I read this text with hope. Because I know it is true and not dependent upon me. That’s why my anger and frustration at myself – and yes, sometimes at the church – cannot have the last word. Lament is for a season. The truth of Christ’s reconciling power is eternal. That is the source of my hope.
We ARE no longer strangers and aliens, but citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God.
Hostility does not have the last word. Christ is victorious. This is not up to us. This is not dependent upon us. But… we don’t know each other. We are members of the same household but we live in different rooms.
I know of a family where, when things became acrimonious, one of the children physically moved to a different floor of the house and spent the majority of his time there. It was painful to be in a household filled with disagreements and conflict, so he opted out the best he could. I am afraid we’ve often done that in the household of faith and, subsequently, we don’t know each other. We are afraid that the conversations will be hard. We may say the wrong thing. We may not know what to say. We may not want to hear the truth of each other’s experiences. We likely don’t want to acknowledge how we have hurt one another, knowingly and unknowingly, so we just spend our time apart on different floors of God’s dwelling place.
The ways we do this are myriad. We divide ourselves by age, gender, race, political leanings, worship style preferences, socio-economic status and interests. We do this in the church and in our communities. Many of us are brothers and sisters in Christ, members of the same household, but we do not know each other. If we do not know each other, we cannot witness to the world the unity that has been won for us in Jesus Christ.
Say that plainly this Sunday. We divide ourselves up and obscure our Christian witness as a result.
But don’t stop there. Be bold and go from Paul to Mark. Go to the text that is so crucial it is in all four gospels. (By the way, I confess, I am cheating and using more verses than the lectionary appointed this week. All things can be forgiven in time, right?) Read these verses from Mark’s version of the feeding of the 5,000 and focus on Jesus’ compassion. (Next week you get John’s version, but there is more than two weeks of sermons in this story.) He looks on us now, our sinful and human-made divisions, our isolation on different floors of his house, our failure to listen and therefore know and love each other, and he has compassion on us. Preach compassion, be compassionate, encourage all of us to meet each other exactly where we are.
Focus on Jesus’ instructions to his disciples, to us, because we are both the crowd and the disciples in this story. Remember that Jesus asks them to discover what is already there among them. Look for that which nourishes what is already within your congregation and community: the gifts, the glimmers of hope, the people working for peace, the art, the food, the parks, the schools, the libraries. What do you have right where you are that will feed a crowd that needs to be nourished? Gather it. Offer it up. Ask God’s blessing upon it.
Follow Jesus’ instructions and invite people to sit together in groups – on the grass of the church lawn or local park or maybe in your fellowship hall or the local soup kitchen or in your home. Then serve them a meal and eat with them, too. All will eat and be filled.
People will eat and talk and get to know each other and the walls we thought were there will be broken by Christ’s presence with us around dinner tables, on green grass, and as we celebrate the Lord’s Supper.
Eating meals together matters. Gathering in small groups to eat is essential. Transformative. It is how we live the “but now” of Ephesians.
I owe a debt of gratitude to the South Carolina presbytery executives who sat around a table with me on June 16th. The words they shared, contained profound truths – and for those truth and for those leaders, I am grateful.
May the Spirit give all of our churches ears to hear God’s truth as you preach fully confident that we are built together with Christ himself as the cornerstone.
This week:
- Read 2 Samuel 7:1-14a and think about how it relates to this week’s text from Ephesians. David wants to build a house for God but God insists on being the creator, not of a physical space but of a people. How should this truth shape our ministry and witness?
- Are there ways we want to build something that God may not want us to build? How do we discern this?
- Who do you not know in the household of God? Are there people God has brought near to you and your congregations who are still, in many ways, still far off from you? How might you come together?
- Do a study of the phrase “but now.” Where else do you find it in Scripture? Make a list of what come before that phrase and after it. How do we live the radical makeover won for us through Jesus Christ?
- Gather some people together to eat this week. Invite people who don’t know each other or people you may not know very well to a meal. Reflect on the experience together afterwards.
- Make a list of the loaves that you have. What resources are already present in your church and in your community? How might you offer those to be blessed and used by Jesus to feed the crowd?
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