Last
week we talked about the grace of God present in our ordinary, daily life. Using Ephesians 1:3-14, we learned that our
understanding of who God is, cosmic Lord and intimate caregiver, allows us to
dance, to give thanks, as David did.
Allows us to dance even on days that seem unremarkable. This week we continue in Ephesians, moving
from our understanding of who God is to who the Church is to be. The passage ends with the reminder that the
Church is to be a dwelling place for God.
But what does that mean? And how
do we become God’s dwelling? Let’s take
a look and see what we can uncover.
In
explaining the reconciling work of Christ, Ephesians chapter 2 compares what
was before Christ to what is after Christ.
Chapter 2 opens with what was—a world of hostility and conflict, a world
of death. The next 12 verses, our
reading for today, go on to describe what is—peace and unity, life in Christ.
The
writer of Ephesians uses a lot of contrasting images to illustrate this concept:
SLIDE aliens vs citizens;
SLIDE strangers vs saints;
SLIDE outsiders (or “the uncircumcision”) vs insiders (or
“the circumcision”);
SLIDE division vs reconciliation;
SLIDE far-off vs near.
It’s important to know
that these are comparisons being made between Gentiles (the “yous” of the
passage) and the Jews. In this passage,
the writer is stating that the Abrahamic covenant established in Genesis 17
made visible through the act of circumcision, which had been exclusively for
the Jews has been opened to everyone through Christ. This is a common theme for Paul’s letters,
and a pretty familiar concept for us as Christians. No surprises there.
I think what
makes this particular passage interesting is the emphasis on peace. Verse 14 begins “for [Christ] is our
peace”. What does this mean? We have so many examples of people across both
space and time using Jesus for anything but peaceful ends. How can this passage help us understand
peace? And what is to be the result of
that peace?
SLIDE
I think
a beginning clue may be in today’s lectionary psalm, which we sang earlier,
Psalm 23. It’s one of the most familiar
in the psalter, and for that reason we must be careful not to gloss over it as
though we fully understand what it means.
When I
was preparing for this week I read a bit of a commentary on this Psalm, and
that little piece has stuck with me all week, so I’ll share it with you
now. I’m about to make an argument based
in grammar, which sounds horrifically boring, but stick with me—it pays
off. I would venture that most of us
know this psalm by heart, so I’m going to begin the first verse and I’d like
you to finish it. “The Lord is my
shepherd” (congregation replies with “I shall not want”.) That’s it.
That’s the first verse. The first
half of that verse sets the stage upon which the rest of the psalm is built. YHWH, the king, the sovereign, the Lord, is
MY shepherd. Everything flows from that
understanding.
The
second half of the verse is where things, in my opinion, get interesting. The Hebrew verb translated as “shall not
want” literally means as “not lack”. SLIDE So we have “The Lord is my shepherd. I do not lack.[MM1] ” In the grammatical structure of this verse
there is no explicit connection between these two statements. There is no “so” or “therefore” between
clauses. The verse does not read, “The
Lord is my shepherd, therefore I shall not want”. There
is no causal relationship between Lord and “not lack”. “The fact that “the Lord is my shepherd” and
the fact that “I do not lack” are so integrally connected, so inherently a part
of one another, that one fact does not “cause” the other. The shepherding of God and the absence of
lack are simply two sides of the same coin.”[1]
SLIDE
I’m
going to read the verse aloud again, and I’d like you to take a moment and try
to separate these two ideas in your head while holding them in relationship with one another, without making one cause the other—feel
free to close your eyes if it helps.
(READ SLOWLY) “The Lord is my shepherd…………. I shall not want………….”
It’s hard isn’t it? I’ve been thinking about it for a week and I
can almost do it…for a split second…sometimes.
Perhaps
this seems like a frivolous argument, but I want you to stick with me for a few
more moments. We have trouble separating
these statements because our brains are wired to automatically make causal
connections. It’s a developmental thing
we need to keep us safe in the world—I touched a hot stove therefore I burned
myself, therefore I know not to touch another hot stove. Hot stove caused burn. Avoid hot stove.
Our
brains automatically rationalize this verse as “Because the Lord is my shepherd
I do not want.” And rationalization is such
an automatic process for us that to try and think of this verse in another way
short circuits our brains. But I think
our brains short circuit because
we try to rationalize this concept.
(See, there, another causal relationship…) It is not rational.
We live
in the world. We know the experience of
lack. Here at Grace we fed hungry people
this week. We had our finance committee meeting
this week, and I hate to break it to you, but we’re not exactly rolling in the
Benjamins. SLIDE Lack is real.
Lack is has causes. Yet somehow,
even in the face of all we see, we are told otherwise. We are let in on the mystery of God’s
provision. Somehow lack is not. And it makes no rational sense. Though it has been lost in the English
translation, the brilliance of this poem is its ability to confound us with its
utter simplicity. God is.
Lack is not.[MM2]
I
believe the closeness of this connection is how we are to understand the Peace
of Ephesians 2. Christ is. Peace is.
Christ does not cause peace.
Christ and peace are two sides of the same coin. This means that the work of Christ and the
work of peace are the same work. What is
that work?
Verse 14, which began, [Christ] is our peace," continues and tells us that the work of Christ is tearing down dividing walls,
reconciling and uniting people. This is
work that is hard for us to imagine. We,
as humans, are really good at creating separation, good at identifying
difference. We divide people into
categories based on SLIDE race, gender, tax brackets, SLIDE geographic location, those with and
without “stars upon thars” SLIDE, religious preference, and untold number of things. We do this for a variety of reasons. Some of these reasons are positive, like
creating data sets to figure out how best to use our resources, But some of
these reasons are negative, like trying to separate ourselves from people we
think we don’t like. Often we believe
that this separation creates peace. When
I was a kid Mom drew an imaginary line in the bedroom I shared with my
sister. She had one side, and I had the
other. She was responsible for cleaning
her half and I was responsible for mine.
She couldn’t be in my half and I couldn’t be in hers…except that her
half had the door in it…which meant that I haaaad to enter the room…a lot. And I took great delight in that fact.
This
concept of separation extends beyond families.
We adopt the phrase “good fences make good neighbors”. SLIDE Nations build
boundary walls believing that they will end hostilities. Believing that separation will breed
peace. Even as Christians we separate
ourselves into denominations, letting what may be valid disagreements prevent
us from loving one another and working together. When we do this, we confuse a truce with
peace. A truce is not peace. A truce is a pause button. We think that because we no longer see the
hostility that it has somehow gone. And
we are caught unaware when that hostility can no longer be contained and boils
over. A truce is not Christ’s
peace. Christ’s peace is about
reconciliation and unity. About the
removing of that which divides. Peace
destroys division. Peace creates
unity. Christ is. Peace is.
Unity is.
SLIDE This is what we, as the church are to be about. Verse 15 tells us that since Christ has unified
humanity into a single people, we are to be about the work of
reconciliation. The work of unity. This is not to say that we have to agree all
the time. Unity is not conforming to a
singular opinion. However, unity does
demand that we not allow our disagreements to create barriers. That we respect one another enough to honor
each other’s non-transgressable personal boundaries. This means that we will have to trust each
other enough to reveal when our boundaries have been crossed, and that we will
have to forgive each other. This means
that at times we will have to let go of our pet projects. This means we will have to admit when our
idea is not the best idea. This means
that we will not always get our way.
Even Jesus didn’t get his way all the time. But knowing that what was gained would far exceed
what was lost, Jesus did the thing he did not want to do and brought near us
who were far off. Ephesians 2 tells us
that this horrible event is Jesus’s ultimate act of reconciliation.
Have you
ever wondered why we take time in our service to pass the Peace of Christ? The passing of the Peace is not a time to
check and see who’s here. It’s not the
church’s version of the 7th inning stretch. It’s not even a time to greet one
another. In fact, to call it a time of
greeting is a severe misunderstanding of the fundamental nature of Christ’s
peace.
Extending
the Peace of Christ is more than a greeting.
It is an act of reconciliation and an affirmation that peace is. Even when the world is in turmoil, peace is. Even when our church is in turmoil, peace is. And when we hold something other than peace in
our hearts, when someone has frustrated us or has said something we disagree
with, extending the Peace of Christ is an opportunity for forgiveness and reunification. This is why we pass the peace after our
confession and pardon. Christ has
reconciled us with God and with one another, and so we turn and offer signs of
reconciliation and peace to one another.
“May the Peace of Christ be
with you.” May the Peace of
Christ be. Peace is present. Peace is now.
Peace is.
I’m not
asking you to live in some idyllic pasture separate from the realities of the
world. That would be foolish, and
certainly would not benefit the Kingdom of God.
I’m asking you, this passage is asking you, to remember that as
Christians the true reality, that which bubbles under the surface and gives us
hope, that which we know will someday be fully and mysteriously realized, is
peace. Christ is the place where past,
present, and future collapse into one. And,
though it may be uncomfortably mystical, this bending of time and space allows
us to respond to the realities of the world with the Peace of Christ. This peace tears down walls and creates unity. This peace and unity turn us into the dwelling
place of the Spirit—a spiritual temple for God.
But this temple is not built of walls.
It is built of people. People who
seek to follow Christ. And just as Jesus
stretched his arms wide on the cross, welcoming in those who were once far off,
we too stand, arms stretched wide, reconciling that which divides, and
welcoming strangers into the household of God.
May it be so.
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