11B Year B

I am always amazed at the way young children approach the world - they can talk to anyone; they get a kick out of everything; and they look forward to learning new things. I don’t know when we stop coming at life like that, or when we start to realize that he is different or she is not like me - somewhere in elementary school, I am sure. And it very quickly morphs into distorted and ugly ways of distinguishing people - name calling and cliques, and being afraid of new things. And while we may not worry so much any more about who is a nerd or who sits at the cool table, and while we may be more subtle or internal about it, we still find ways to distinguish ourselves from others and to approach the world in fear.

A lifetime of knowing what’s good and what’s bad; who’s in and who’s out.

In the early church, and when the letter to the Ephesians was written, there was a clear division between the in’s and the out’s - the Jews and the Gentiles. The Jews, referred to as “the circumcision”, were God’s chosen people - Israel, whom God led through the desert to the Promised Land. The Gentiles, the “uncircumcision”, were more newly chosen people of God, drawn to the faith by Jesus of Nazareth, brought into the fold by the apostles. The Jews followed the Torah – God’s Law. They circumcised their sons - the visual and physical sign of the covenant with God. Many Gentiles, however, did not do either. So, the question that was swirling around was: just who were God’s TRUE children? Who were the faithful followers of Christ? Who would inherit the kingdom – the Jews or the Gentiles?

Paul says, in this letter that all of that is moot, and those divisions are meaningless once Christ died on the cross for us all. In death, Christ formed a new identity for everyone - Jews AND Gentiles - and each were called to die to their old lives and be reborn in the new life of Christ.

But while that is wonderful in theory, and sounds great being read from the lectern, the two groups were still enmeshed in ugly arguments hundreds of years after his death. Still focused on what they knew, rather than what Jesus had tried to teach them and how Jesus lived. Still stuck in their old lives, rather than the new life he offered to them.

Of course, we can’t say much these days either. The early church isn’t the only place where Christians fight amongst themselves. We have hundreds, if not thousands, of denominations and non-denominations. We have white churches and black churches, high church and low church, hymn music and praise music, Eucharist-centered worship, and sermon-centered worship. Conservative Christians, Progressive Christians, mission-centered churches and bible-based churches, Episcopal, Anglican. Hundreds and thousands of ways to define who’s in and who’s out, who’s closer to the church God intended us to be.

Even within our own walls of the Episcopal church and right here in Trinity, we have our own ways of determining difference. We have those who have been here most or all of their lives, and those who have here for barely a month. Life-long Episcopalians, and those who come from other traditions. Leaders and followers, younger folks and older folks, women and men, married and unmarried and widowed.

And our differences create diversity. The problem arises, as we all know, when the differences interfere with the way we see the other, the way we treat other people. When we concentrate on our differences and give into our fear, we start to collect people that are like us, and subtly push those away who don’t fit the mold. We divide ourselves into those who get it and those who don’t. We remind people that we’re Cradle Episcopalians, and that they most definitely are not. And when someone wonders aloud about change or asks why it is we do this or that, we quickly explain that we’ve always done it that way, or that no one would ever go for it, and remind them politely not to bring it up again.

What can I say, as humans, we like the status quo.

And we shy away from people who challenge us, who are not like us, because they make us think, maybe even dare to make us think about our identity, and yes, even our beliefs. And rather than engage that challenge, many of us run right back to the familiar, back to our comfort in knowing that we are in and they are out. Like the Jews, we run back to the Laws that tell us exactly what to do: what to eat, what to wear, what to believe, who is good and who is bad. Rather than consider that a new idea might be interesting, or the question might be a good one, maybe we, who seem to know all the answers, can even learn something from this person. Yes, even from a former Protestant, or … gasp … even a Catholic! Maybe we don’t have all the answers.

Thinking like that allows for the Spirit to move amongst us and form us, gives us a new identity, a unifying identity. We like to focus on the differences, we’re just so good at it, but we are called to focus on the one unifying factor, our faith in Christ. That kind of thinking and living is what Paul is talking about, and what we are called to do as Christians. To focus on what brings us together, not what draws us apart. Yes, it seems simple, but that is the way it is supposed to be.

Heck, if the Jews and Gentiles could come together than we surely can. If they could begin to focus on what draws them together, than surely we should also try.

We are called to try, to be open to the stranger, to resist the fear that tells us not to give up anything, or reminds us how different we are from them. We are called to be open and allow someone else to teach us something; let them to help us to live the way Christ wants us to live.

We are called to be a Christ-centered community. Gathered together - in the pews, in our homes, in the world - the way we gather together at the Lord’s table: kneeling, hands-out, open and looking for what Christ has to offer. This is the image we are called to strive for. Any other way of being, and we, as a church,offer little more than Starbucks or the comforts of a living room. We’re just another pleasant place to spend an hour on Sunday morning. Another bunch of nice folks with good coffee and pastries.

If, however, we push our limits, extend ourselves, offer our hands we can be a place bursting with life with the Peace of God John spoke of last week. And we can continue to grow - not just in numbers, not just in dollars, but in health and faith and life. We are called not to hostility, but to hospitality, reaching out to the stranger, helping the sojourners who walk through that door find a home, find a place to discover what the Kingdom of God might look like on earth.

Allowing them to offer us a way of seeing God, a way of seeing ourselves that we could not have seen if they were not with us. That is radical hospitality, that is the openness with which young children approach the world - expecting to learn and barely able to contain the joy when they do. That is what it means to come to the table and receive the gifts, the bread and the wine each week. That kind of hospitality, rife with anticipation and joy, is something the world is missing, and we are called to show them a vision of what a holy community might look like. What it means to be one in the Spirit, and one in the Lord.

We are called to let Christ do his work - to tear down the walls of division, as Paul puts it - and proclaim to the world, there is another way, there is Christ