October 9 - Proper 23, Year A (RCL)
It all began with Mary,
and that visit from the angel,
and the wondrous birth
of a baby boy.
“Away in a manger,” we sing,
“no crib for a bed,
the little Lord Jesus
laid down his sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky
looked down where he lay,
the little Lord Jesus
asleep on the hay.
The cattle are lowing;
the baby awakes.
But little Lord Jesus
no crying he makes.”
It’s a lovely picture,
Mary and Joseph
in freshly laundered robes,
watching over a baby swaddled in white,
lit with the soft glow of candlelight,
with cows and donkeys and sheep looking on benevolently.
And the only sound
a soft moo from a cow
and perhaps the gentle ripple
of angelic harps.
Really?
Have you ever known
a baby
that doesn’t cry?
Let alone a stable that doesn’t smell,
animals that keep quiet,
and tired travelers
arriving in clean clothes
and no evidence of the messy reality
of a birth?
Have you ever wondered
what the nativity
was really like?
Sometimes
when it comes to our faith
we put aside all common sense
and create an image
that owes more to carols and children’s picture books
that it does to the reality portrayed in scripture.
And if that’s true of the nativity
it’s just as true
of our images of the early church.
People flocking to hear the apostles.
Throwing money in the collection
that somehow, magically, multiplies,
so that everyone gets back
more than they put in.
Tables at the back
laden with food,
no one worried about anything,
what to wear, how to live,
one great never-ending
party.
Sometimes
we have a kind of idyllic view
of the beginning of Christianity
that bears no resemblance at all
to reality,
not any reality
this side of heaven, anyway.
And certainly no resemblance
to our reality.
But have you ever wondered
what the church was really like
way back at the beginning?
It almost comes as a relief
when we read something like today’s lesson from the letter to the Philippians.
“I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord.”
Paul
is writing a letter of encouragement
to the christians in Phillipi.
It might well be the only letter
they will get from him,
something to be memorized and treasured,
that will sustain their faith
over the years
to come.
You expect words of wisdom,
of encouragement,
of faith.
And Paul gives all these.
But then,
a comment about two of members
who are fighting?
You’d think he could have sent that separately,
a quiet word on the side
so as not to embarrass anyone.
But instead, here it is
for everyone to see.
Euodia and Syntyche are fighting,
and everyone knows about it - even Paul - away on the other side of the ocean.
Paul makes it clear, that Euodia and Syntyche
aren’t some sort of renegades,
people who have set to divide the church,
or established troublemakers,
the sort of people who do nothing but find fault.
They are faithful Christians
working hard for the sake of Jesus Christ,
using their gifts in his service.
But they have a disagreement.
We don’t know what it’s about.
It could be major; it could be minor.
It could be about how to wash the linens for the altar
or whether children should be in church.
It could be how the budget could be spent
or which seats their families sit in.
We have no idea
what this disagreement is;
what we know
is that exists,
and that word of it has spread
beyond the congregation.
And if you read the reference to them in isolation,
“I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel, together with Clement and the rest of my co-workers, whose names are in the book of life.”
if you read that in isolation, then it looks like Paul is saying, “get over it”
before moving on to other things.
But what if what Paul says next
is actually advice
on how to deal with it.
“Rejoice in the Lord always;” he says,
“again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”
Instead of saying, “get over it,”
Paul is saying something slightly different.
He’s saying,
“Yes, you disagree.
But what really matters
is the faith you share.
So focus on that.
Celebrate Jesus Christ.
Be gentle with one another.
And pay attention
to what is good - what is true and honorable and just and pure and pleasing and commendable.”
And what he doesn’t say is,
if you focus on those things
you’ll find your disagreement
takes on less force, it has less control over you.
You will rediscover
what you have in common
and learn to live
with the things you differ on.
Paul is giving good, practical advice here,
and the reason he’s giving it here,
rather then sending a private message to Euodia and Syntyche
is that they aren’t alone.
they aren’t the only ones
with a disagreement.
People disagreeing
is something the church had to deal with
all the time;
it’s something the church still has to deal with.
Just because we’re all Christians
doesn’t mean
we have to agree about everything.
Our church
and the church of the early Christians
are pretty much alike.
We’re not perfect.
We have disagreements.
And what Paul says,
is that no matter what you disagree on,
focus on what you share,
the very core of your faith.
Focus on Jesus Christ,
and on living like him,
fill your minds with what is good
so that there is no room
for anger and fear.
And live with the disagreements.
And who knows,
as you focus on what you have in common,
you may discover
that the disagreements
melt away
or at least recede in importance.
And hold everything in prayer.
And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Amen.
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2010