Sunday, July 22, 2012

Breaking down the dividing walls of hostility Ephesians 2: 11 - 22


          In the early years of our marriage, Kevin and I became friends with Bonnie and Seth.  Bonnie and I taught math together at WWH School.  Like Kevin, Seth was a graduate student, with a part-time teaching job in the university math department.  About the same age—in our early 20s, at the same stage of life—married with no children yet, all 4 of us math nerds, we had a lot in common.  Bonnie and Seth were a hoot, and we often hung out together—watching movies, playing games, and sharing meals.  One year, they invited us to share the Seder meal with them at Passover.  Yes—Bonnie and Seth were Jewish.  Because of the close relationship we Gentiles shared with these Jewish friends, it’s a little hard for me to fully understand the barrier of hatred—the dividing wall of hostility—referred to in today’s text.  But 2000 years ago, Jews and Gentiles were not as close as Kevin & I and Bonnie & Seth.
            Near the end of the 1st century A. D., the Roman empire dominated the known world, in all areas of life.  More than one of the Roman Caesars had been “officially” deified—legally named a god and joined the pantheon of Greek and Roman gods who were worshiped.  Jewish communities thrived in large cities throughout the Roman empire, but the Jews kept to themselves.  They worshiped “the one true God” and believed themselves to be set apart by this God for God’s purposes.  Circumcising their male children, the Jews were bodily set apart.  Avoiding certain taboo foods and strictly adhering to the prescribed manner of preparing their meals, Jews were socially set apart as well.  Into their homes to share their meals and the close camaraderie around their table, Jews invited only other Jews.  They separated themselves from the unclean, unholy Greeks and Romans.  And these Gentiles separated themselves from the clique-ish, fundamentalist Jews.   Centuries of separateness built up animosity and ill-will between the two groups.  This segregation is the “barrier of hatred”—the dividing wall of hostility—that Paul refers to in verse 14. 
            But in the newly-forming Christian communities, Paul sees this barrier of hatred being torn down.  For the good news of Jesus the Christ—received in faith by some Jews in the synagogues Paul visits and received in faith by some Gentiles in the public forums where he speaks—the good news of Jesus the Christ is drawing together individuals from these two hostile groups.  Baptized into the faith and receiving the Holy Spirit, both Jews and Gentiles are meeting together in each other’s homes to worship and to study and to share the table fellowship that will later become what we call the sacrament of Communion.  The peace of Christ is bringing together these who were once separated by hatred.  The peace of Christ is uniting Jews and Gentiles in the house churches in Ephesus, in Philippi, in Colossae and throughout Asia Minor.  Jewish and Gentile Christians are becoming one—one household, one family—the family of God.
            Barriers of hatred, dividing walls of hostility . . .  Have you ever encountered these?  I have. Traveling in Israel in the spring of 2011 with a group of Presbyterians, I was confronted with this wall and its implications.  It is a wall separating Bethlehem from Jerusalem.  It towered above our bus as we drove through its gate.  The Israelis don’t want tourists to take pictures of it, so we couldn’t stop the bus and stand beside it.  I had to sneak this picture, as the bus traveled, from the side of the bus opposite the guard booth—camera readied in my lap, quick up to my eyes, snap the picture and put the camera away in my bag—pronto.  Not even our guide or driver knew what I was doing.  We had been told—do not take pictures of the wall!  Even now—after 11 months here in Kansas—Olathe, Lenexa, Overland Park, Prairie Village, Kansas City, KS, Kansas City, MO, Leawood, Lee’s Summit—in my mind and to my eyes, they’re all Kansas City.  I don’t know where one ends and the other begins. Houses and other buildings blur the boundaries between the cities. It is sort of like that in Jerusalem.  Houses and buildings and people expand the borders of Jerusalem until . . . it swallows up the land all the way to Bethlehem.  And then, we meet the wall.  The wall separates people—one group separated from another.  The wall adversely affects the economy of Bethlehem. 
            One of the days we visited Bethlehem, we stopped at a shop owned by a Palestinian Christian.  He proudly showed us many items he had to sell and told stories about some of them.  When he finished, he asked us for one thing—only one thing and it wasn’t “please buy something.”  Instead, he asked us to pray—to pray with him there in the shop and continue to pray—to pray for peace in Bethlehem. 
            In terms of text today’s text, he asked us to pray for the peace of Christ that tears down dividing walls of hostility that separate his family from their Jewish neighbors.  And he is confident that God will answer our prayers.  He has hope built on the work of reconciliation Christ has already done—reconciling you and me with God our creator and reconciling those ancient Jewish and Gentile Christians we read about in today’s text.  Through our prayers, the action they will move us to, and the relationships we will form because of them—God will work to break down barriers of hatred in Israel.
            Dividing walls of hostility are not only in the Middle East. What about Berlin and the southern US border and demilitarized zones in Asia?  Dividing walls of hostility don’t just separate ethnicities—Jew from Gentile; Israeli Jew from Palestinian Christian.  What about the dividing walls that separate Catholic from Protestant, conservative from liberal, progressive from fundamentalist?  Dividing walls of hostility are not just physical barriers like the one I saw of concrete and steel and barbed wire.  What about legislation and immigration policies—from South Africa to North America? What about dividing walls built with labels—pro and anti, red-neck and tree-hugger, queer and straight?  Dividing walls of hostility can be erected deliberately or they can be built unintentionally.  As noted in our prayer of confession today, we can inadvertently erect walls with our hasty words that cause conflict and tension.  Dividing walls of hostility are anything
that causes separation between us and others or separation between us and God.  What are the dividing walls of hostility in your life?
            When I became the librarian at SS Elementary, I met J.  Demanding classroom manipulatives—rather than asking for them, insisting on a rigid checkout schedule for her students, and holding onto materials she was no longer using and that others needed, J was not particularly likeable.  From day one, there was a wall between us.  I’m a person who wants to be liked.  And I wanted J to like me.  I wanted to work with her students—teaching them the same skills I was teaching the other students—not just check out books to them once every 2 weeks.  I wanted to share with her ideas and lessons I was receiving from other district librarians and sharing with other SS  Elementary teachers.  But, after each encounter with J, it seemed as if that wall was taller and thicker.  It felt like no matter what I tried, my chisel had not chipped away at any it.  That wall still stood stout. 
            Getting nowhere on my own, I finally I asked God for help with the wall.  One day, before J’s class was scheduled to come to the library, I prayed—that I could get through the next 30 minutes with J without becoming a knot of tension . . . and I did.  The next morning, in my daily devotional time, I prayed for J.  The next day, I prayed for her.  Each day, I prayed for J. I prayed—God, please change J and make her likeable.  Well, I didn’t see any change, but I kept praying.  And somehow, somewhere along the way, my prayers changed.  I began to pray for J’s well-being.  Then I began to pray that God would change me—change my attitude about her and my actions toward her.  It was a big, thick wall.  It didn’t come down quickly.  But one day, after a couple of years, I realized I didn’t bristled when J walked into the library.  I realized I was calm when listening to J. I realized I had genuinely compassion when I talked with her.  After a couple of years I realized my prayers were being answered.  God was changing me.  Over time, the wall between J and me came down.  Oh, she still made demands—of other people—there were still walls around J, but the wall between us had come down.  When she retired, J told me how much she appreciated working with me the last years of her career—how she had felt supported, encouraged, and befriended by me.  
            So there is good news! Christ has broken down the dividing walls of hostility.  Christ is still breaking down those dividing walls.  Christ will continue to break them down.
            Opening our hearts with compassion for others in pain, sorrow, and distress, we help Christ chisel away at the walls of isolation.  Opening our ears and minds to listen and our mouths to engage in respectful sharing, we help Christ chisel away at the walls of intolerance. Communicating directly—“this is what I am thinking;” “here’s what I am feeling;” “this is what I need”—communicating directly helps Christ chisel away at the walls of miscommunication, misunderstanding, and misdirection.  With Christ, the walls come down.  His peace fills the space where the walls once stood.
            And here’s even more good news.  When the walls come down, we are not left with a bunch of bricks littering the landscape.  Instead, on the foundation laid by prophets and apostles—whose words we hear and whose actions we see when we read the Bible—and with Christ as the cornerstone, and using God’s love and our grateful response mixed together as the mortar, we bricks are built into something new.  Together, we bricks are built into a community, a space—where God’s spirit dwells.  Together we bricks become a space—I envision a semi-circle—open, inviting, welcoming all who seek—even the demanding Js.  We bricks become a space—like a semi-circle, a diverse family gathered together in a loving embrace—like Bonnie and Seth and Kevin and me all those years ago—laughing and eating and playing together—sharing our lives.  We bricks become a space—like a semi-circle, a community in which people are drawn to the comforting protection, the invigorating fellowship, and the renewing love of Creator, Christ, and Holy Spirit.  Through the peace of Christ, divided no more, we come together.

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