In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Now
I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,
that all of you get on the same page and that you cut it out with these
divisions, that you be united in the same intention and purpose. For it has
been reported to me by Fox News and CNN that your bickering is reaching
catastrophic levels, my brothers and sisters. What I mean is that each of you
says “I’m a Republican, or “I’m a Democrat,” or “I’m above political party,” or
“I’m Episcopalian, “Or I’m with Luther,” or “I’m Progressive,” or “I’m an
Evangelical.” Has Christ been portioned out? Or were you Baptized into the name
of anyone other than Jesus Christ? I thank God that I baptized none of you
except Addison Griffith and Ruby Corriher. (I did baptize also my daughter Rowen;
but the point is that I really don’t bother keeping a tally of people who I
baptized). For ,Christ did not send me to me to gain my own following, but to
proclaim his gospel, and not with soaring rhetoric that overshadows the power
of the Cross of Christ. For the understanding of the Cross is utter foolishness
to those who are fading away, but it is the power of God to liberate us.
Sometimes
when we eavesdrop into the conversations that Paul was having with various
churches, it’s not clear how Paul could just as easily be addressing us. That’s
not the case today. We know division all too well. Within a short walk from
here, you can find at least 8 other congregations. Estimates are that there are
over 48,000 different denominations. Some of you watched the Inauguration and
cheered, others protested and lamented it. We have different views on the role
of government, the role of the church, the way liturgy should be done, the
morality of abortion, and the proper style of barbeque. We don’t even notice
division anymore – it’s become normal. Both our State Legislature and Congress
are ineffectively gridlocked because of bitter partisanship, and what do most
people say in response, “Well, that’s just how politics work.”
We demonize those who
disagree with us as being too greedy, too selfish, too stupid, too closeminded
to ever find agreement, and so we often don’t even try, but rather retreat into
our own little affinity groups where our assumptions are never challenged and
our suspicions are confirmed. Paul’s admonition that “there be no divisions
among you,” seems like a fairy tale more something even worth pursuing.
And division is painful.
When families are torn apart by partisan disagreements, it really is tragic.
When friends drift apart because they voted for different people, it’s a crying
shame. When people leave this church because we discerned the Spirit guiding us
to welcome all couples to be married here, my heart breaks. When people who
disagree with things that I say in a sermon choose to disconnect, it troubles
my soul. Division is painful, and never leads to peace, so we ought not to give
into resignation and just accept it as normal.
The
thing is, we all innately know that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. That’s
why there’s so much frustration with our divisions, and not just political
division. We know we can do better, we want to do better, we want to leave the
world better than we found it. This is what Paul wanted for the church in
Corinth. The way that Paul encourages us to put the divisions to rest is to
focus on the Cross of Christ.
What
I find so fascinating about the Cross is that there has never been a Church
wide council that was convened to decide what the Cross means. Sure, we had
some debates over the relationship of the Father, Son, and Spirit. We’ve fought
about how Jesus is both human and divine. We’ve issued statements about all
sorts of theological points. But never has the Church tried to define what the
Cross is all about – there is no one accepted interpretation of what the Cross
means, though the Cross is absolutely central for every one of those 48,000
denominations. And therein lies the pattern that Paul is laying out for us as
we seek to live without division. Faith is about unity, not uniformity.
Each
of us was created as an individual and unique unit of God’s grace. Each of us
is special in that way. Uniformity is an affront to our God given autonomy and
uniqueness. One of the earliest stories in Genesis, the Tower of Babel, makes
it clear that uniformity can become an idol. So often though, this is what we
pursue. We, wrongly, pursue the one truth that we want everyone to agree on,
when such a truth never exists. Uniformity is bland, and uniform cultures are
often the backdrop for dystopian novels like 1984 or Brave New World.
The
problem is that is that we’ve come to expect uniformity as a definition for
agreement. We’ve learned that it’s okay to “agree to disagree and go our
separate ways.” The phrase “irreconcilable differences” has become commonplace.
And it can be challenge when you disagree with someone on a topic which needs a
solution. Sometimes there is no middle ground, and we’re not very good at
losing. And again, this is why the Cross is so helpful. The Cross is the
ultimate sign of defeat. Jesus says, “Fine, do your worst to me. But I’m not
keeping score, I’m not playing the game that you are.” The goal isn’t
uniformity, it isn’t total agreement, rather it is alignment.
This
is what unity is all about, that we have the same destination, even if our
starting points and modes of transportation are different. Paul sees Baptism as
uniting us into Christ’s Death and Resurrection. And the thing about death is
that once you’re dead, there’s no ranking system. No one is deader than anyone
else. And in the same way, once you know the grace, mercy, and power of
Resurrection, there’s no such thing as being more or less Resurrected than
anyone else.
We
find our salvation in the Cross; as Paul notes, it is God’s power to save. Sometimes
though we think that we’re saved by having the right theology, that if we can
just figure it out, that we’ll suddenly open the path of total bliss. We’ve
been chasing that golden calf for thousands of years, trying to get our hands
on that holy grail. We so badly want to be right, thinking either it will
justify us or finally put our minds at ease. But it won’t. How many problems
have ever been solved by one side insisting they are right? How many people
ever found an answer that gave them a life without suffering or challenge?
Think
about what we miss out on though when we pursue being right and expecting
uniformity so that everyone agrees with us. What do we lose out on when we
think we know it all? What do we lose when we decide what is possible and what
isn’t? What do we lose when we think that we know the value of another person?
What do we lose when we think we already know who we are and what we’re capable
of? What do we miss out on when we think we know who God is and how God acts?
When
you think you’re right, you generally stop taking in new data. Psychologists
call this “confirmation bias;” when you only accept information that reinforces
your current beliefs and you dismiss any data to the contrary. We’re all guilty
of it. If we spend our lives searching for what is right, we’ll probably end up
finding some version of what we want to find. Faith though is about mystery.
Faith isn’t about finding, but rather being found. Faith always has a sense of
humility, knowing that we’re never going to figure it all out. Faith isn’t
ashamed of saying “I don’t know.” Faith is okay admitting that it was wrong,
saying “I was blind, but now I see.” The grace of God is all around us. Every
single atom, every single person is a revelation into the fullness of God. We
miss out on so much when we make up our minds about what is right and expect
everyone to get in line with us.
This
is one of the things that is so unique and valuable about The Episcopal Church
and our Anglican heritage. At our best, we seek unity, not uniformity. What
binds us together isn’t that we all interpret the Creed in the same way, not
that we all have the same favorite hymns, not that we all have the same
opinions, but rather that our worship unites us. Our Baptism makes us members
of the same Body and our participation in the Eucharist reinforces those bonds
of unity. Our theology is a very broad tent. Some refer to it by using a Latin
phrase, via media. It means “the
middle way,” and it has been a hallmark of the Anglican position for centuries.
In The Episcopal Church, we’re more interested in seeking the Truth and letting
that Truth change us than we are in trying to define what that Truth is. What unites us is our commitment to being united and embracing the fullness of God’s love, even if we can’t fully define it.
For
some people, this is uncomfortable. We like answers, we like to close cases and
have clarity, we like uniformity because it means that there won’t be
disagreement. We don’t generally like ambiguity, but that is exactly what God
is – ambiguous, mysterious, beyond our ability to understand. Our theology
recognizes this, and so uniformity becomes a heresy because uniformity requires
that we concretize that which is beyond definition. What we are left with then,
is mystery, and so it is understandable why those who are uncomfortable with
mystery fight over it.
Conflict
is not a bad thing, as it shows that we share a common passion. You don’t fight
over things that you don’t care about. The fact that we have conflict is a good
thing. But how we deal with conflict matters. One way to deal with conflict is
to simply ignore it and pretend that it’s not really there. This is not a good way
to operate. Either you work on conflict, or conflict works on you.
Another
way to deal with the lack of uniformity is to choose isolation. This, also, is
not a great choice. One of the things that is so interesting about Paul is that
there are several times where he speaks about being whipped and beaten the
synagogues for what would have been deemed his unorthodox beliefs. But
interestingly, Paul always submits to it. He never leaves his Jewish faith or
identity, but takes the punishment that his community feels is appropriate.
Paul understands that once you are a part of something, you can never truly
leave it, you can only abandon it. When people choose to leave a church over a
disagreement, they aren’t able to erase the connections that they have with
people, rather they can only abandon those relationships. This isn’t an
indictment against those that feel the need to change congregations, rather it
is a simple reminder that as members of a Body, we can never wash our hands of
each other. We can never be done with each other. Running from a conflict never
solves the problem, and it never leads to unity or reconciliation.
Or
we might deal with conflict by bickering. Though we tire of fighting, bickering
is at least better than willful ignorance or abandoning a relationship. So long
as the fighting is fair and healthy, the outcome can be good. If both sides are
willing to listen, to see things in a new way, to let go of ideas like
“winning” and “losing,” then this way of dealing with conflict can work for
short periods of times, so long as the fighting doesn’t become intractable.
However,
what Paul suggests to the Corinthians, and by extension, us, is to focus on
what unites more than what divides. Focus on the Cross, how we are all saved by
it, even if we are bitter enemies. Focus on our common Baptism by the same Holy
Spirit, even if you can’t stand each other. Focus on our shared dream for God’s
peace, justice, and love to be known throughout the world, even if we can’t
agree on what those things look like when it comes to specifics. Focus on the breaking
of the bread, the sharing of the cup, the passing of the peace. Focus on unity,
not uniformity. Don’t seek that which will never be found. Don’t worry about
being right more than being righteous. Don’t forget that it was out of the love
of God that we were all created and it is to the fullness of the love of God
that we are all destined. Be quick to forgive and slow to judge. Though we lack
uniformity because we blessedly unique, may God grant us the courage, will, and
grace to pursue unity. Amen.
