Our Peace
Proper 11B
18 July 2021; 8:00 a.m. Said Mass and 10:00 a.m. Sung Mass
Homily Delivered by the Rev. Fr. Tony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.,
at Trinity Episcopal Parish
Ashland, Oregon
Jeremiah 23:1-6; Psalm 23; Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
God, take away our hearts of stone, and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.
“Remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, … [were] aliens … and strangers to the covenants of promise…. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace… he has broken down the dividing wall, … [Y]ou are no longer strangers and aliens, but citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God….”
Ephesians thus characterizes the effect of Christ’s victory over death on the cross on his world. The idea is that by suffering and overcoming the worst that the wickedness of the world could throw at him, Christ brought peace to people far and near, and broke down the wall dividing groups. Paul expressed the idea a little more expansively in Galatians: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28).
The idea is profound—in Christ, all divisions and distinctions are healed, all differences blurred, polarities centered, dualities united.
It is so easy to divide the world into us and them. Group identity is a cheap way of finding ourselves, and seeing only the good in us, at the expense of those not in our group. It is a seductive way of making us forget our own failings by focusing on the failings of others. Thinking that such divisions matter masks the truth that all of us are flawed, and that ultimately, we are all in this together.
Think of the different groups into which we divide up the world.
Rich and poor.
Black and white.
Saints and sinners.
Male and female.
Cisgender and trans
Jew and Gentile
Christian and pagan
High Church and Low Church
Catholic and Protestant.
Straight and Gay.
Republican and Democrat.
Native and foreigner.
“Christ is our peace; in him, we are one.”
Peace in Christ, however, is a starting point, not an end in itself. It does not give us a ticket to pass by the process of amending past harms.
Take one example—Race. Martin Luther King said he looked forward to the day where his children would be judged by the content of their character, not by the color of their skin. He wanted bigotry and hurt on the basis of race ended. But this does not mean he wanted us to ignore the real-world conditions of people who still suffer from prejudice. If Love sees no color, it also demands that we look at injustice based on color in the eye. In a world where many still feel the oppression and marginalization of personal racial bigotry or systemic preference given to some groups at the disadvantage of others, it means we must say things like “Black Lives Matter.”
Does “race doesn’t matter” mean that black lives don’t matter? I think not. Just go over to Railroad Park on A Street and look at the memorial to people who have suffered from systemic injustice. That is a monument to love, not hatred. I saw a witty meme recently: it had Jesus leaving the 99 sheep off in search of the one that was lost. Off to the side, a person pointed at Jesus and angrily screamed, “All sheep matter!” The point is not that Black people are wandering souls—they are not—but that Jesus taught us to take special care of those who are on the margins.
We all try to divide people up, and often assigning good or evil to one group or the other.
In the Harry Potter books, there is a clear struggle between good and evil, between Voldemort and Harry Potter, the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, Griffindor and Slitherin: good guys and bad guys. Yet at one point, Sirius Black tells his godson that one must not think that one group or person is purely good and another purely evil: “We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are.”
Ephesians is not saying that good and evil do not exist, or that we need not worry about struggling against evil. But it is saying that divisions between groups often labeled as good and evil no longer matter in light of the cross.
There is a deep logic to this. Community defines itself not just by who it includes, but also by who in excludes. For this, Philosopher René Girard says that community is “unanimity minus one,” that is, a group united in accusing and expelling at least one of its own. Community is not just joined hands and linked arms of embrace. It in its structure is also the pointing finger of accusation, of exclusion. Community regulates itself by scapegoating.
Most primitive cultures have myths that express this. Generally an abnormal or impure member of the community is singled out, driven away, and often killed in the myth. Thereby the community is made whole. Impurity and wrong are thus purged.
Our own Christian story turns this myth on its head: the crowd points their fingers at Jesus and calls for his death, he is brutalized, taken outside the city walls, and killed. But—and here’s the difference—Jesus is innocent. It is he who is right, and the community that is wrong. Thus Ephesians: Christ on the cross preaches peace to those who are far off and those who are near. The cross, that cruel tool the Roman Empire used to enforce community, that instrument of public terror supporting conformity, is undone by the resurrection of our Lord and becomes a sign of healing and unity.
Christ, once driven outside the wall, becomes our peace, and breaks down all dividing walls. He brings those far off, those driven outside the walls themselves, back, and draws them near.
That’s what all the shepherd imagery in today’s other readings is about. The kings of Israel, called the shepherds of the people, in today’s Hebrew Scripture lesson fail their flock by striving too hard to maintain its advantage over other nations, perhaps by scapegoating and strong-arm community enforcement.
But Jesus sees the people as a flock without a shepherd, and steps up to feed and support them. He brings them all together—regardless of their background—into a single fold. He tends them not because they are his sheep and others are not, but because they need a shepherd. And so he feeds them and serves them, regardless of their origins.
Where the Good Shepherd leads, division and strife, fear and loathing of the Other, are healed. While not gone entirely, they are subsumed into peace and “righteousness,” or compassionate goodness. I translate Psalm 23 this way:
“It is Yahweh who is my shepherd; I need nothing else.
Green are the pastures where God has me lie.
Still are the waters where God guides me.
God refreshes my life.
Because of who God is, God leads me in compassionate paths.
Though I must trudge even through the darkest deadly chasm,
I shall not fear any harm.
Because you are with me.
Your crook and your walking-stick give me comfort, not hurt.
You spread out a great feast for me
Even when faced by persecutors.
You pour calming lotion on my head;
The cup before me overflows with wine.
I am sure that with you,
Kindness and compassion will be at hand as long as I live,
And it is in your house that I will make my home forever.” (Psalm 23 TAB)
The cross undoes not just the mutual accusation between groups. The division within ourselves that each of us experiences, the sense of not being worthy, of not being a “good person,” is also undone. The fact is, most of our accusations we hurl at others are projections of the very faults we ourselves suffer from. We are responsible for the narratives we bear in our hearts and tell our fellows about those we identify as “other.” Paul says Jesus “erased the record against us from all legal demands. He set this aside, nailing it to the cross” (Col. 2:24). He thus destroys the alienation within each of us because of the accusation built into our individual lives.
Even in this, “Christ is our peace; in him we are one.” The cross and resurrection tell us that we ought not accuse ourselves or others. They tell us that we are one, that we are beloved.
Loved ones, alienation is real, whether between groups or within our hearts. We are all strangers and foreigners. We try to make ourselves feel better about it by clinging to our group, our family, our tribe, defined in part by making strangers and foreigners of others. We accuse scapegoats or blame enemies for our very own crimes; we also accuse ourselves as desolate losers. Those political and religious leaders who milk such alienation to gain power and wealth are guilty of great sin. For Jesus took this all with him outside the wall, and it died with him. In the light of Easter morning, we can see that it is all a sham.
In Christ, we are one. In Christ, we are no longer strangers and foreigners. He has broken down the dividing wall, and has nailed the accuser’s power itself to the cross. He is our peace.
Thanks be to God.
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