conflict

Asking for a Friend - How can we hold onto our Shared Humanity in a Divided World?

Matthew 18:21-22

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if my brother or sister sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven.


I loathe physical therapy. Thanks to having the back of someone 3x my age, I have been quite a few times in the last ten years. Everytime I go, I am paired with a guy about my same age but who is in impeccable physical condition, which already makes me feel worse. Then they put me through a circuit of ridiculous exercises, things with bands, an impossible balancing board, and stretches that make me feel like something could snap at any moment.

Exasperated, after throwing a ball against the wall while balancing on one leg, I asked, ‘What in the world does this have to do with making my back feel better?!’ My therapist said, ‘Your low back is weak. We can strengthen it some, but not much. Instead, if we focus on everything else around your low back, your hips, your core, your flexibility, then the pain will start to go away, but not entirely. You’ll be able to function, just not fully; your discs are too damaged. So focusing solely on your low back will never bring the healing you want. You have to focus on everything else around it.”

Now talking about my woes with physical therapy may seem like a non sequitur to the final question in our series: How do we hold on to our shared humanity in a divided world? But I promise it will come back around. So stay with me.

One thing among many I have loved about this series, Asking for a Friend, is that all of the questions have been timely; relevant not just to our life together, but to much that is happening in the world around us.

Today’s question is one we all want an answer to. The questioner had more context: they said, “as we get more and more divided, it seems like faith communities are pushing further and further to the extremes. In doing so, we lose the ability to see our shared humanity. What do we do? How do we move forward”?

Division and conflict have become a staple of American life. And that’s not just an anecdote, though I am sure you have your own story. According to Pew Research Center, compared to similar nations,we Americans hold much deeper divisions within nearly every facet of society: politics, race, and even agreement on basic facts.

Ironically enough, polarization is now a defining feature of these United States.

Faith communities are no different, especially along partisan lines. These days it’s more likely that the way someone votes determines what church they attend than their theological views. Which means, more churches are becoming homogenous in their political beliefs, more people are leaving churches from political partisanship, and there are fewer and fewer purple congregations. For the most part, churches are not sorting themselves, they are already sorted.

And in just the past two weeks, headlines have piled up calling this moment an inflection point—a crisis. It sure feels like it. Unity? Seeing our shared humanity? It seems nearly impossible—for churches, for the nation, let alone the warring parts of the world. So what do we do? I think we, as a church, go about unity like physical therapy.

It may sound counterintuitive, but if unity is the goal, don’t focus on it. If we insist on “being united”, if we tell ourselves and others, “we are a united congregation,” we won’t be—and everyone will end up disappointed, or worse.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote, “He who is in love with his vision of community will destroy community. But he who loves the people around him will create community wherever he goes.” The same is true of unity. If we love the idea of unity more than the people in front of us, we’ll never achieve it.

This is exactly what allows a group like Zeitouna to exist. Zeitouna is a group of six Jewish and six Palestinian women who, despite deep divisions, have learned to see each other’s shared humanity. For over twenty years, they have gathered in each others’ homes every other week, sharing dinner, and engaging in intentional Dialogue. They listen not to formulate a response, but to understand the other’s point of view. Their goal is not to come to an agreement. How could they?

Instead, they work on creating shared understanding—by listening, speaking from their own experience, slowing down, and pausing more. They focused on so many other things, not just the issues. And only then were they able to see one another for what they truly are, human. Irene, a Jewish member, said, “My heart has been opened to those who scare me.” Wadad, a Palestinian member, said, “Through Zeitouna I’ve learned to hear the voice of the ‘other’—her pain and her joy—realizing it mirrors my own.” They never chased unity itself. They focused on other things, and unity formed along the way.

Instead of chasing unity, let’s focus on our shared humanity, on forgiveness, and on grace.

Now, in the church we love to say that every person is made in the image of God. And that is true. But if we stop there, we can fool ourselves into thinking that image means we are inherently good, virtuous, capable. Scripture, and our experience, say otherwise. Paul reminds us that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” The image of God in us is real, but like funhouse mirrors, it is fractured and distorted.

So what do we share, really? We share our limits. We share our failures. We share our tendency to mess things up and let each other down. Our weakness, not our strength, is our common ground. And friends, that might sound like bad news, but it is actually quite the opposite. Because when you stop expecting other people to be more virtuous, more stable, or more capable than you are—you find yourself a little less disappointed. A little more patient. A little more compassionate. It frees us to meet one another not with unrealistic expectations but with grace.

But that also means we will need to forgive, and to do so often. Like Peter, we ask “how often”? More than we want to, more than what seems right, honestly more than we think we can. Because it’s not so much that someone will wrong you 490 times, but that it might take 490 attempts at forgiving one offense before we’ve really done it.

All of that is hard. Which means, if we are going to see our shared humanity, forgive one another, and live as a functioning community, it will only be out of gratitude for the grace of Jesus, who has already done all of that for you and always will. When we dwell on the grace poured into our lives, it spills over—flowing from our hearts out into the world, giving others the mercy and love Jesus has already given us.

Just like physical therapy, if unity is the goal, focusing on it will only lead to more pain, disappointment, and ultimately division. Because we will, and likely already have, let each other down.

But I am asking you to stay. Stay even when there’s disagreement, stay when feelings are hurt, stay when it feels easier to walk away. Because if we leave every time, we miss what Jesus is capable of through forgiveness and grace.

So let’s focus on those things now: on shared humanity, on forgiveness, on the grace already given to us. And then by the mercy of God and the work of the Spirit, unity will begin to take shape. It may not be perfect. The pain may not entirely go away.

But we will be able to function.

We will be able to live together as God’s people.

And we will have hope for the unity that is to come to all people, through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

O Reconciliation, Where Art Thou?

Matthew 18:15-20

“If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”


In my next life I hope to be a great novelist. I don’t even have to be a great one…I’d just love to be able to hold a book in my own hands that I wrote—an original story that makes some positive impression and impact on the larger society. I would like to write a story about reconciliation—a heartwarming tale of two individuals at odds—bitter enemies, perhaps—who come to a great reckoning whereby both people grow, change, and recognize that the other person is deserving of love and respect. It would not be a story of one person winning at the expense of the other. It would not be a story of tolerance—as though the best we can hope for in our world is to plug our noses, close our eyes, and merely tolerate the presence of someone else. No, it would be a story that makes it clear there is something profoundly beautiful, right, and holy about overcoming division and developing an authentic love for one’s enemy. But, like I said, that’s for my next life. I’m simply not creative enough to write a story like that.

This my great confession to you today—a disclaimer, really, given the nature of today’s gospel lesson. I cannot think of anyone with whom I had a serious or consequential falling out and now enjoy a restored relationship. I’d forgive you for assuming this is because I’m such an easygoing and lighthearted person that I simply haven’t made any enemies. But, alas, that’s not the case. As I’ve made enemies and had my fair share of disagreements…but not much reconciliation has resulted. What I’m trying to say is, this is an incredibly difficult sermon for me to preach!

I feel like I don’t have a deep well of reconciliation stories to draw from. It’s not something that has been modeled for me throughout my life and it is certainly hard to find today. Forgiveness and reconciliation are not really virtues that are held up by American society. Prevailing over the enemy…pursuing one’s one happiness regardless of everyone else…those are honestly way more synchronous with American values than are reconciliation or forgiveness.

This is pervasive throughout our culture. Most popular books and movies can be boiled down to the same fundamental conflict between good and evil, with the good prevailing and the evil being destroyed. Throw in some outstanding special effects and some attractive people in the lead roles and you’re guaranteed to have a blockbuster on your hands.

I can’t think of many stories that prize reconciliation—stories where conflicting parties overcome very real animosity towards one another, learn to appreciate and respect one another, and accomplish something together that they could not on their own. The only one I’ve come up with so far is the movie, Remember the Titans about the desegregated football team that unites after initial race-related struggles. I’m sure there are other stories and I would love for you to remind me of them, but I think you’ll agree these stories are few and far between—hence the need for my great novel.

We have to be careful because there are a few people who tout themselves as examples of reconciliation, but it’s often a cheap veneer. One I became aware of during my visit to South Africa is Christo Brand. He was a young white jailer at Robben Island—the prison in South Africa that held Nelson Mandela for 18 of his 27 years of incarceration. Christo enjoyed a degree of notoriety following Mandela’s release because he told stories about how he and Mandela had become friends during Mandela’s incarceration. He even wrote a book called Mandela: My Prisoner, My Friend. He has made a comfortable living off the book and speaking engagements; and today through Airbnb you can pay for a private dinner at a fancy restaurant in Cape Town with Christo where he will regale you with stories of his friendship with Nelson Mandela. Though, interestingly, I’ve read Mandela’s autobiography and Christo Brand gets exactly one mention in the nearly 700-page tome. Far from being an example of extraordinary reconciliation, Christo Brand is simply a man who has never had to atone for his role in an unjust and immoral society and instead continues to profit off his role within the apartheid system even today. That is not the kind of reconciliation Jesus holds out as exemplary.

Jesus’ idea of reconciliation involves confrontation and conflict. It involves standing up for what is right and checking your idea of right and wrong with others in your faith community. Jesus’ idea of reconciliation involves the restoration of the entire community, which benefits everyone. Jesus’ idea of reconciliation is unwavering. Recall Jesus says, “and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” This is not permission to dismiss the offender or exclude him from the community. After all, how did Jesus treat Gentiles and tax collectors? He sought them out and never stopped inviting them into the restorative community.

The Christian message itself is one of reconciliation and restoration. For me to say that I do not have many examples of reconciliation in my life is an admission that I have not let Jesus guide me. Christ-followers are to build their entire lives upon the foundation of God’s character and God’s promises. God continually seeks us out, forgives us, invites us into a restorative relationship and community, and equips us to do the same toward others. I take no pride in telling you this morning that I find that terribly difficult to do. After all, what kind of leader would pride himself on breaking relationships and not seeking forgiveness from others or from God? But I hope that my admission will invite you to examine your own life in case you, like me, have strayed from the path of discipleship.

I don’t mean for this to be a downer of a sermon. After all, you are the few who bothered to show up on a holiday weekend so I don’t want to you walk away feeling like you didn’t hear the good news. So, hear the good news. God is characterized by grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation. God’s kingdom is characterized by grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation. And God’s people are meant to live lives characterized by grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation. That is our foundation and our destination. The fact that we see so little of this in these days is an indictment of our sin; but it is also an invitation to seek God’s help as we seek to rise above our selfish impulses and restore broken relationships. God can and will change our hearts, but only if we genuinely desire it.

I pray for you, my brothers and sisters in Christ, that your lives would be infused with stories and examples of reconciliation. I pray that our country would experience reconciliation in these divisive times—reconciliation built on truth and trust in God’s character of grace. I pray that our church would be a place of holy confrontation and accountability, so that when even two or three of us are gathered, God would be among us. And I pray that my life would end up being one great story of reconciliation.

Amen.