Easter 7, Year C, June 2, 2019
Acts 16:16-34, Psalm 97, Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21, John 17:20-26
Preached by Pastor Anna C. Haugen
Chinook and Naselle Lutheran Churches, WA
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord.
Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ.
I was an odd kid. I got on great with adults, but not so much with kids my own age. I didn’t understand them, and they didn’t understand me. So I never had very many friends, and I was different from most of the kids in my class. This made me an easy target for bullies, and if I hadn’t had such great loving support from my family and people at church and what friends I did have, my life would have been pretty grim. The thing is, though, that none of my teachers liked or approved of bullies. They did not want any of the children in their care to be hurt or afraid anywhere, but especially at school. They just … weren’t very good at making that happen. They were very good at keeping things looking like everything was good, but not so good at actually preventing bullying.
They told us to get along, a lot. But mostly what that meant was that the bullies learned to only strike when the teacher’s attention was elsewhere. Or they learned to be subtle about it, so they could play the innocent when I complained and say that it was my fault because I couldn’t take a joke, or I was just too sensitive. They knew they were trying to hurt me, and I knew they were trying to hurt me, but they had enough plausible deniability to get away with it. When the teachers did do something, they rarely tried to stop the bullying. They’d try to get me to forgive the ongoing harassment without requiring the bullies to stop harassing me or apologize for what they’d done. Or they’d try to reinterpret things so that the bullying wasn’t actually bullying, like the time someone wrote an anonymous note that I smelled and the teacher tried to convince me they were saying I smelled good and it was a compliment. I never asked the teachers why they focused on trying to change me instead of on stopping the bullies, but I bet I know why: it seemed easier. If I wasn’t complaining, they could assume that everything was okay and we were all getting along fine. I was the squeaky wheel, so I got the grease, even if the problem wasn’t me but the people who were hurting me.
That’s why I get suspicious when people start talking about unity, and togetherness, and getting along. Because the easiest way to make people unified is to ignore the people who are getting stepped on or trampled on. It’s easier to ignore the people being hurt than to challenge and resist the people doing the hurting. And this happens even in Christian circles. For example, in the 19th Century, there were calls for Christian unity in America to heal regional divisions between the South and the rest of America. And what that usually looked like was White northerners embracing White southerners and ignoring the horrific way white southerners were using and abusing black people, first with slavery and then with sharecropping and Jim Crow laws and the KKK. For White northern Christians, getting along with White southern Christians was more important than Black suffering.
We still see this all the time today, on issues of race and gender and class and sexuality and nationality and religion and disability and every category I can think of. It is easier to silence the victims than it is to confront and stop the abusers. Nine times out of ten, that is what we try to do. It’s easier to put a superficial face of niceness on things and pretend we’re all getting along than it is to address the deep and abiding wounds that so many of us bear. It is easier to paper over the cracks than to fix the foundations. So when I hear calls for unity and togetherness, I tend to get suspicious. Unity on whose terms? Who’s benefiting, and who’s getting thrown under the bus? Whose sins are getting ignored or minimized, and whose wounds are getting salt rubbed in them?
Sometimes, of course, the people calling for unity are focused on deeper issues than just trying to make things look nice. But all too often, those deeper issues are used as an excuse for scuttling the very idea of unity. And they still don’t care about holding people accountable for their actions. “We have the perfect interpretation of scripture and Christian tradition,” they claim, “so in order to do anything with anyone else, they have to agree with our every belief, even the smallest ones, because we’re right and they’re wrong.” They want to look like they’re in favor of the kind of Christian unity Jesus wants, without actually having to do the hard work of bridging the gaps between people, so they focus on every difference they can find and make mountains out of molehills.
The unity that Christ is praying for in our Gospel reading takes work. It’s hard, and it isn’t based on superficial niceness and togetherness. Nor is it based on absolute uniformity of doctrine and practice. The unity Christ is praying for is rawer, and deeper. It’s not about making things look nice, or even about feeling good about togetherness, it’s about genuine love and putting that love into action. This reading comes from the end of the Farewell Discourse. For the last several weeks, we’ve been reading parts of Jesus’ last words to his disciples on the night before he was arrested and executed. We read these words in Easter because it’s actually a very good guide to what Easter living is supposed to look like. What life in the light of the cross and resurrection is supposed to look like. Over and over again, we are told to love. The Father and the Son and the Spirit are one God because they love one another. They are unified in their love, in the strength of their relationship. In the same way, God loves us, and we are united with God through that love, which is shown in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. And as we have seen the example of God’s love, so we are supposed to live that love out, and love one another, and be unified in that love.
And this love is not just a surface-level platitude. No. It’s something much deeper than that. This is a love based on knowing people, warts and all, and loving them and still holding them accountable for their actions. Jesus loved and forgave everyone … but he never swept anybody’s sins under the table or pretended they didn’t matter. Jesus’ love transformed people, it didn’t pretend they were already perfect. This is a love based on service and self-sacrifice. Jesus demonstrated that love on the night before his death by washing his disciples’ feet, and he demonstrated that love again when he sacrificed himself to save the whole world. And that sacrifice wasn’t designed to cover up the sins of the world. No; it was designed to expose them so that transformation and new life might be possible. Jesus’ death and resurrection, that great sacrifice of love, was what made possible the new creation that Revelation talks about.
In that new creation, all are welcome and all are one. There is unity, but it is based on love and healing, not on sweeping problems under the rug. All are welcome, and all are called, but you have to admit your sins and let Christ make you clean before you can eat of the fruit of the tree of life and experience its healing. There is no test to see if you have the correct understanding; nobody is thrown under the bus so that other people can pretend everything is fine. Instead, there is honesty and cooperation and healing. Most of all, there is love. God’s love for God’s own self, and God’s love for all people and all creation, and all peoples’ love of God, and all peoples’ love of each other.
If we are truly living according to God’s love in the here and now, unity will come. Not easily, and not quickly. Christ’s unity will come because we are working together to heal the wounded and protect the vulnerable and feed the hungry and free the prisoner and be Christ’s hands and feet in the world. Christ’s unity will come because we will find that the love of God is stronger than any of the forces that tear us apart. Christ’s unity will come because we will learn how to be honest with one another, repenting our own faults and holding others accountable to do the same. Christ’s unity will come because we will learn to respect honest and good people even when they are different from us and disagree with us. And if that unity does not come in this world despite our best efforts, we know that it will come in the next. Thanks be to God.