Day of the Church Year: 7th Sunday of Easter
Scripture Passage: John 17:20-26
In today’s Jesus story, Jesus prays. The exact mechanics of Jesus praying is unclear for, in the gospel of John, Jesus and God are one and the same. Regardless, Jesus prays, and in the portion of his prayer we read today, he prays for the unity of those who will come to follow him. He prays that our unity will testify to God and God’s work in the world. He prays that we will be so united that our oneness would be similar to the ontological oneness of Jesus and God.
What do we think? Was Jesus’ prayer answered—or not? Are we one?
Nearly everywhere we look, one group of people is at odds with another. Facebook friends “unfriended” because of political views abound. The tension in some families is palpable around holiday tables. Violence, including last week’s school shooting in Texas but unfortunately not limited to it, reveals our callous disregard for human life. We are quick to complain about others but slow to talk with people with whom we disagree to try and understand their perspective. Segregating ourselves to spaces where we pretty much agree with everyone around us is definitely in style. As if disagreeing were a problem.
Believe me. Hearing myself say those words—as if disagreeing were a problem—my mind automatically jumps to the variety of social issues where I would—in a different venue—argue passionately for one side and staunchly defend the importance and accuracy of my viewpoint. Because the opposing viewpoint endangers the safety of others, from my perspective. Because the opposing viewpoint leads to devastating health or social outcomes—and the data proves it. Because Jesus speaks with clarity on issue x or y.
I am so convinced that I am right and those on the other side are wrong, and we know it’s not just me who thinks this way. The people of this nation have long held disparate views on a whole slew of issues, but we seem to have reached a new moment of polarization. A moment when we are convinced that some others are evil. A moment when we are shocked and dismayed by the views others hold.
Still, it’s not simply political and social views that lead to disintegration of community. Among Lutheran clergy, there is an inside joke about conflict in congregations caused by choosing the color of the church carpet. As in, when a church is renovated or redecorated. Honestly, it’s such a trope for conflict among Lutheran pastors that, when I came to preach here as part of the interview process, walked into the sanctuary, and heard that the carpet had been replaced in the year 2000 and would likely not need to be replaced again any time I soon, I gave silent thanks to God and thought: Phew! Not that we have escaped conflict by any means, but the color of the carpet has not been the trigger.
At our spring prayer retreat where we explored the theme Life Together, we discussed conflict. One of my questions for everyone was: What causes conflict? And the first answer was: Emotions. Can I get an Amen? For while choosing the color of the carpet is the standard bearer of church conflict, it is really the emotional aspects of that process gone unrecognized that lead to problems. We all carry around with us histories, full histories of joys and sorrows, victories and challenges, trauma and support. Layered on top of that are daily stressors and perhaps unhealthy coping mechanisms as well as practices that bring peace and circles of support. When we step into a conversation or a meeting while our difficult histories and daily stressors are leading the charge inside us, nothing good comes from that. We so easily hurt others, so easily raise our voice, so easily speak critically when we are not intending to do so. Or if we are the target of someone else’s emotion-driven words at these moments, we often shut down instead of investigating the reasons for such unwarranted criticism, instead of remaining open and compassionate to our conversation partner who is clearly struggling. To put it bluntly, it’s a hot mess!
Whether dealing with political or social differences or personal, emotional attacks, we often don’t want and can’t imagine a world where we are one with “them.” Or we feel pushed out of community, flattened by criticism, and simply want to escape, to escape from being “one” with those who have hurt us.
Thankfully, we don’t have a choice. For God has made us one. God has gone ahead without asking us and made us one. One people, one body, one fabric of humanity. As Christians, we are bound to one another through the sacrament of Holy Baptism, forever tied up together in mystical union. As the Apostle Paul writes, we are one body with various gifts, some of us weak, some of us strong, but all essential to the body. Not only that, as descendants of Adam and Eve, as members of the human family created by God, we all come from the same God-shaped mold, all created in the image of God.
We are one.
We are. One.
Maybe you don’t want to be one with me. Maybe I don’t want to be one with you. Maybe a group of people does not care to be one with another group. Maybe a nation does not care to be one with other nations. But there it is, unavoidable and tender, our shared humanity.
Twentieth century poet Audre Lorde wrote in her brilliant book of essays entitled Sister Outsider: “It is easier to be angry than to hurt. Anger is what I do best. It is easier to be furious than to be yearning.” I suspect, given our presence here today, given our presence in various aspects of Grace community life, that most of us are yearning, perhaps for connection with God, connection with others, for hope, for ways to serve, to be one with others, to know we are not alone.
Our yearning leads us here, despite the challenges of living in community together, a community that is not and will never be perfect. Our yearning leads us to the table, Christ’s table where Christ is host, a table where his own body is broken and blood poured out. At this table of Holy Communion, we are one. We share this meal as a family gathered around a holiday table, perhaps with histories of disagreements, perhaps with resentments yet still one family.
Today, Jesus prays for us, that we may be completely one. And the joy of Christ’s resurrected life on this seventh Sunday in Easter is that, regardless of all the ways we live out our messy human-ness, we are one in Christ, one people, one body, one fabric of humanity. Thanks be to God! Amen.