Sermon: “Christ Is Our Peace”

Text: Ephesians 2:11-22

16^th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

July 19, 2009

Scripture introduction.  Our second reading this morning is from the second chapter of Ephesians.  In this letter, which may have been intended for a number of churches, the apostle Paul (or someone writing under his name) urges Gentile Christians to embrace their new identity as members of the family of God.  The author self-identifies as a Christian with a Jewish background and squarely addresses the Jewish-Gentile conflict within the church that still lingered into the late first century, when the letter is presumed to have been written. 

The author does not mince words, calling the non-Jewish Christians “gentiles.”  Since it was a word that separated one group from the other, it probably had some negative connotations.  In all likelihood the non-Jews never referred to themselves as “gentiles.”  Going even further, the author says that the Gentiles, before they became Christians, were atheos—“without God.”  While this term is used only once in the Bible,[1] we know from other classical literary references that it was very nearly a slur[2]—implying that the person was “without God” because the gods had forsaken them, or because the gods they worshipped were no gods at all, or because they did not honor the gods.  The Romans sometimes accused Christians and Jews of being “without God” because they refused to worship the Roman Emperor.  Ironically, the author of Ephesians now tells the former pagans that they were the ones who had been “without God.”  This kind of language reveals the reality of conflict in the church.  How could it be ended?

Sermon.  Once there were two hunters out in the woods.  Suddenly, they were set upon by a large bear, which chased one of the hunters up a tree.  The fight between the bear and the hunter was intense.  The bear’s teeth and claws lunged furiously at the hunter.  The hunter’s Bowie knife flashed around the bear’s head.  As they climbed from limb to limb attempting to gain the advantage over one another, the second hunter struggled to get a clear rifle shot at the bear.  But the fighters were moving so fast that he was afraid he would hit his companion.  The struggle went on and on; both the man and the bear were sorely wounded.  “For heaven’s sake, shoot the bear,” shouted the man in the tree.  “I can’t get a clear shot,” replied his buddy on the ground.  In desperation the man in the tree cried out, “Then shoot up here amongst us; at least one of us will have some relief.”

Sometimes it seems that our conflicts within the church are so intense, so bitter, and so long fought, that we can imagine no end to them.  The conflicted parties acknowledge no common ground on which some compromise could be fashioned.  It’s all or nothing, and neither side seems able to force a resolution.  When we get to that point, we just want some relief.  Churches in the first century may have had that sort of deep conflict; there are strong hints of it in texts like ours today and in the letters of Paul the apostle.  One of the enduring conflicts was between Christians of Jewish background and their Christian brothers and sisters of Gentile origin.

Before they became Christians, there was bad blood between both groups.  Jews considered Gentiles to be ritually unclean, idolatrous, and licentious.  The Old Testament law, the Torah, gave the Jews their very identity.  The law was given to them by God, and it was what separated them from the rest of the nations of the world.  Gentiles did not follow the law.  Gentiles ate pigs and shrimp and catfish.  They were disgusting.  In turn, the Gentiles resented the Jews, who were accused of thinking that they were better than everyone else. 

Among Romans and Greeks and other nations, there were different gods to be worshipped, but as long as you worshipped some god, you were OK.  Sometimes, in fact, it became fashionable to worship gods from other countries.  We know from the book of Acts[3] that the Greeks in Athens were very religious and had statues to all they gods they knew about.  They even had a statue to the “unknown god,” just in case they missed one.  In contrast, the Jews were sticklers.  They acknowledged only one God and insisted that all the other gods were no gods at all, but merely lifeless statues.  Had the Jews not been so exclusive, the Romans and the Greeks might well have added the Jewish God to their list.  But the Jews looked upon pagan religion as inferior, and the pagans thought of the Jews as snooty and self-important.

OK, those were the two groups that the church started with.  Try building an effective organization with that kind of conflict.  We can imagine that it was not easy, and we would be right.  Let’s see how the author of Ephesians came at the problem, and maybe there will be some lessons in it for us in the conflicts we have in our lives.  The first thing that I see in this text is that the author confronts the conflict directly.  “Houston, we’ve got a problem.”  The worst kinds of conflict are the ones that are denied.  How can we work toward a solution to a problem if we don’t even admit that the problem is there?  The author of Ephesians, as I pointed out in the introduction, actually used some of the words that would have gotten people’s dander up—“Gentile,” “without God.”  He addresses directly the issues that often came up in the conflict—whether Gentile Christians had a responsibility to follow the Jewish law.  The author is so direct, in fact, that the passage begins as if the Gentile Christians are about to get a tongue-lashing.   “Remember,” he writes, “[before you were Christians,] you were aliens from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenant of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.”  In a normal sort of argument, we would expect the next sentence to show how superior were the Jewish Christians, since they had been a part of the covenant of promise and the family of God from the very beginning.  But that’s not the way this argument will go.

Instead of saying how wonderful it is to have a Jewish background, the author then focuses on Christ.  “Christ is our peace,” he writes.  Since this writer came from a Jewish background, when he wrote about “peace,” he would have had in mind the Hebrew word for peace—shalom—which implies not only an absence of conflict, but a true wholeness and healthfulness.[4]  In Jesus’ self-sacrifice on the cross, he has made both groups into one flesh.  That’s real shalom—making two separate things into one.  To use my very trivial illustration, it would be as if the bear and the hunter had been made into one creature.  The bear is no longer a bear.  The human is no longer a human.  They are now something different.

As if to drive this point home, the author now makes a point that takes our breath away.  He writes, “[Christ] has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.  He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity.”  Abolished the law!!  What an amazing statement to flow from the pen of a Jewish Christian!  Before they became Christians, those of Jewish origin had access to God through the Torah, the law.  Now, they have a different kind of access.  He writes, “Through [Christ] both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father.”

Let me pause for a moment and emphasize what this passage is not about.  It has nothing to do with any disagreements or differences between Christians and Jews.  The conflict being addressed in Ephesians is between two different groups of Christians.  The Apostle Paul makes it very clear in Romans 11 that non-Christian Jews continue in covenant relationship with God.  Neither does this passage suggest that the Gentile Christians have, through Christ, become Jews.  The very important message of this passage is that, when they become Christians, both Jews and Gentiles become something new and different.  Neither becomes the other; they both become something else.

It seems to me that at the heart of all our conflicts—both within the church and outside it—is the fear that we will lose something that we believe defines us.  Here’s just one example.  I recently received a message from another pastor asking whether our church would be willing to be listed in a directory of churches that are welcoming to homosexuals and lesbians.  While the request was directed only toward membership, and not ordination, it made me remember the current deep divisions in the whole Christian church on the issue of ordaining such persons.  Those against ordination are concerned for the purity of the church and are afraid of losing the moral foundation on which the church has been built.  Those in favor of allowing ordination are also concerned with morality, not wanting the church to become an instrument of excluding and oppressing a minority group.  They are afraid the church will lose its reputation as a place that promotes justice and freedom.

Is the problem really intractable?  Are we at the point where we cry out for someone, anyone, just to shoot up here amongst us because somehow we need relief?  Or is it possible that in the 21^st century, as in the 1^st, the blood of Christ and the cross of Christ are turning us into a new humanity.  Could it be that Jesus is calling both sides of the conflict to give up what is dear to them and to be made into a new creation in Christ?  I’m not sure what this new creature would look like, but I have a feeling that when it finally appears we will know it is new and that it is better.  By God’s grace we may even be privileged to be a part of defining who the new creature will be.

In all our conflicts, maybe we should consider the lessons of Ephesians, first acknowledging that we have a conflict and then asking ourselves what is at stake.  On both sides of the dispute, what is making us anxious and afraid?  What is dear to us that we are afraid of losing?  Then we should ask, “What is Christ offering that is better than what either of us already has?”  Our old identities do not matter.  The only thing that matters is that we identify with Christ.  No need to shoot the bear or the man.  We are now together as a new creature.  We are part of Christ.  Christ is our peace.