Theological Truth: Oneness comes from unity, not uniformity; God’s gift, not our might.
In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
I did something very unusual week before last – definitely out of the ordinary for me, perhaps for you too. On the National Day of Prayer, I deliberately stepped out of my comfort zone and into a zoom meeting hosted by leaders from several faith-based bridge-building groups including Braver Angels, One America, Interfaith America, and faith250. People from every imaginable faith tradition and from all over the country—Christians of every denomination, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, B’Hais, Jews, and Indigenous people—all came together to reflect on Lincoln’s Gettysburg address and offer prayers for our country and the world.
It was messy…and uncomfortable…and beautiful. It began with four different people, from four different faiths, reading the Gettysburg Address. And then another four people, from various faith traditions, offered their reflections. That wasn’t the uncomfortable part. Next, as advertised, they broke this nation-wide group of faithful (but very diverse) strangers into small groups for “personal sharing.” This is where I had intended to “leave the meeting.” But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not if I’m going to take Jesus’ prayer seriously, that we may be one as he and the Father are one. (John 17:11)
And so I breathed a quick prayer for support and courage, and entered a breakout room with a retired Lutheran bishop, an elderly Unitarian couple from Nevada, a twenty-something agnostic philosophy student, and an evangelical catholic. There was no hiding: cameras and microphones on. We introduced ourselves. We shared what part of Lincoln’s address spoke to us. We listened to one another with care and respect. And you know what? No one’s faith was compromised. No one’s integrity, or sanity, was questioned. We were united in purpose, despite our differing beliefs and varying positions. And by the end of our time together, I felt better about my fellow citizens and more hopeful about our shared future.
Our former Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, knows a thing or two about loving his way through uncomfortable situations. In his book, Love is the Way, he talks about being summoned by the Archbishop of Canterbury to a meeting with over thirty other leaders from provinces of the Anglican Communion following The Episcopal Church’s decision to expand the sacrament of marriage to same sex couples.
He describes how tense the situation was and how high the stakes were, “It was entirely possible that the church might fracture or split.” (p. 194). It wasn’t easy or comfortable, nor a foregone conclusion, (and there’s still much work to be done 10 years later!), but it didn’t split because they figured out how to “walk together in love, despite [their] differences” (p. 198); how to be one as Jesus and the Father are one.
They did this first by leaving behind contempt: “the belief that the person who disagrees with you isn’t just wrong, but worthless.” (p. 188). Next, they did it by praying together, eating together, and even washing one another’s feet—in the thousand-year-old crypt of Canterbury cathedral! Talk about facing discomfort for the sake of love and reconciliation!
And they did it by remembering their common purpose of being agents of Christ’s reconciling and redeeming love for the world. What message would it send to a fractured world if not even the Church could figure out how to “be a sanctuary in which people can disagree, even vehemently, and yet still see the other as a brother or sister in Christ”? (p. 189). Their prayerful work and commitment to love one another as Christ loves us, proved that unity is more important than uniformity.
Bishop Curry applies the lessons he and the other primates learned in Canterbury to world affairs. He writes, “In the United States and in the world, we have different cultures, different politics, different experiences that have shaped our beliefs. But if we can establish that we’re working towards some common good….then we can be brothers and sisters.” He suggests we “Stop worrying about whether we like each other and choose to believe instead that we’re capable of doing good together.” (p. 205).
Doing good together is exactly the work God has given us to do. The first step is for us to leave contempt behind. As followers of Christ, we know that no one, no matter how much we may disagree with them, is worthless. We must listen to each other.
The second step is to pray for each other—especially those we don’t like—as children of God and therefore, siblings in Christ. And I’m talking about asking God’s blessing on them—not God’s alternative!
The third step is to commit ourselves to the way of Love that saves us. To walk in love as Christ loves us and gave himself for us—all of us. Loving our neighbor, loving those different from us, loving even our enemies. It’s risky, but love is the only thing that equips and allows us to remain in relationship beyond our disagreements.
The last step is to discern together the guidance of the Holy Spirit. In short, for God’s will to be done—not mine. Which requires becoming comfortable with discomfort, and clear about lacking perfect clarity.
In the coming weeks, there will be opportunities to do the uncomfortable work of listening to differing perspectives, being open to other points of view, and loving those we disagree with. Beginning a week from today, we’ll have six Sundays to explore the question, “Was America Founded as a Christian Nation?” We’ll have an ethics professor from Eastern Mennonite University speak to us about Christian Nationalism on Friday, June 5. With the Spirit’s guidance, we may also form a faith250 cluster and lend the voices of our faith communities for the healing of our nation. All along the way, especially in light of the 250th anniversary of our country’s founding, I hope we will remember our call to be agents of reconciliation, walking in love, committed to doing good together.
I can tell you from my limited experience of that zoom meeting, it is not easy work. But it’s not impossible work, either. With God, nothing is impossible. It’s messy; it’s uncomfortable; but it’s also surprisingly beautiful and hopeful. I hope we will do that good work together.
