As today’s gospel portion begins, Jesus and the disciples have been traveling all over the country—teaching, preaching and healing. They have just arrived at Capernaum. They’ve just passed through that incident on the road to Capernaum—the one where the disciples were arguing as they walked about who among them was the greatest. Today’s passage feels like John is trying to change the subject and bring the disciples into a better light with Jesus.
The passage begins with John’s tattle-tale to Jesus. “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him because he was not following us.” John and the disciples have stopped people they found healing in Jesus’ name—because they were not part of their group. John is filled with righteous indignation that this gift of God has been claimed by people he sees as others—as strangers. Can’t you just see him? Pulling at Jesus’ robe—making sure he knows that they have kept his ministry free from contamination by the outsiders. Jesus responds swiftly to John’s complaint. He redefines the boundaries of their community, essentially welcoming any who serve in his name and going on to condemn those who sin or lead others to sin.
The interesting part of all this is how we hear the rest of the words Jesus spoke that day. After he tells the disciples that everyone who acts in his name is on his side, Jesus says, “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out.” Harsh words, and since the early days of Christianity, we have used these words in the context of the Body of Christ. Throughout the history of our faith, individuals and groups of people have interpreted these harsh words to justify our harsh actions. Over the years, we Christians have divided communities, broken homes, and destroyed relationships—all in the name of Jesus and quoting the words we’ve just heard. We have killed and we have destroyed lives—all in Jesus’ name. If we haven’t liked what another part of the Body of Christ is doing—whap!—we’ve lopped it off—and claimed to be on the side of the angels as we were doing so.
I think our tendency to demonize the other has led us to miss the core of this message down through the ages. Listen again to these words. Jesus says, “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out.” If your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out. Jesus doesn’t say a word about our neighbor’s hand or foot or eye. Jesus tells us to stop pointing at the other as the source of our woes. Jesus tells us to look to the ways we bring trouble into our own hearts—to the ways we cut ourselves off from God—to the ways we get in our own way. Jesus tells us to look at ourselves and take the action we need to take to open our hearts to God’s love. He is reminding us that the true barrier to the Reign of God is not what the other guy is doing—it’s what we ourselves are doing.
Things haven’t changed a lot since that day in Capernaum. In our post-modern world, people of most faiths are being intentional in their approach to understanding and respecting the beliefs and customs of other religious traditions. We in the Episcopal Church are continually exploring ways of being in communion with our cousins in other denominations. The strife between faith traditions seems to be lessened, but what about the strife within the churches?
Since the General Convention of 2003, the Anglican Communion and the Episcopal Church have been filled with mutterings and finger-pointing, with threats and posturing—from people who stand on both sides of issues. Letters and resolutions and conferences have been flying thick and fast, and speakers from all points of view have claimed that their perspective is the legitimate expression of the Episcopal Church.
That has a familiar ring to it, doesn’t it? “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him because he was not following us.”
Once again, people of good faith—people of good faith, seeking to do God’s will, are separating themselves from those they see as different from themselves. The problem that so often results in division in the church is that people of good faith, doing their best to follow the guidance of the Holy Spirit, frequently have strongly divergent understandings of God’s will for human behavior. Sometimes the disagreement is about something as central to human life as gender or sexual orientation. Sometimes the disagreement is about how to fold altar linens or how best to incorporate new people into the parish community or any one of the customs that become cherished parts of any community. Because we are humans, each with our own particular understanding of God’s experience in our lives and with our own particular understanding of God’s will for lives, we will probably always disagree. We will probably always be at least a little suspicious of people who claim ministry in the name of Christ but whose ways seem very different from our own. But, as children of God, made one with Christ in baptism, we are called to move away from focus on our own little bitty teeny tiny selves and look to the glory of God.
This is not easy to do, and I speak from very recent experience. During the last week, our diocese has hosted visiting teams from our companion dioceses of Western Tanganyika and Gloucester. Most of the gatherings over the last week have held space for listening to one another. In the gatherings I attended, I was reminded just how difficult it is to listen. Frequently, what we think of as listening is merely waiting—waiting for the other person to be quiet so that we can talk. On the other hand, listening deeply, with the intention to hear what the other is saying, opens us to see the perspective of the other. Deep listening turns off—at least for a few moments—the part of me that wants to jump out of my chair, wave my arms and say, “But my way is the right way—my understanding reflects the true reality—my faith is the true faith!!!” Deep listening gives us a glimpse of the other’s life and lets us learn—maybe just a little—how that life informs understanding and belief. Most importantly, deep listening calls us to examine how we protect our own prejudices—how we make gods of our own way of looking at the world.
At our barbecue on Monday night, I found myself seated next to a visiting priest. Our paths had converged several times during the visit—I had been consistently in closer contact with him that with others of the visiting teams, and that seemed to me to be worthy of attention. Our only point of agreement is perhaps our love of God and God’s people—and we have vastly divergent ideas about how that should be lived out in our lives. In response to questions from others at the table, my seatmate said this visit has shown him how deep the gap between our cultures really is, and I thought to myself—“The gap is deep, but here we are, sitting together, listening to each other, breaking bread together.” Fast on the heels of that thought came a rush of thanksgiving—for our bishop who helps us seek God’s grace acting in every situation of our lives—for all three bishops and the way they are modeling the work of staying in the big tent together—and for the way God’s love for all creation is holding us as we try to find our way forward. As each day of this experience has brought new information to me, I’ve found myself focused on a single question: How are my own actions a barrier to the Reign of God. What needs to be plucked out? What am I clinging to that I need to put down? It’s not been an easy exercise, but it has been and continues to be an important part of my growth as a person trying to live into my baptismal covenant. I commend the question to you for your own reflection and give thanks that God who gives us this work to do will surely guide us and uphold us as we do it.
Thanks be to God.