Ever notice how talking about unity causes division?
You say, ‘We should all be one big happy family,’ and somebody says, ‘Well, I’m not sitting next to them.’ It’s like telling people to calm down… has that ever made anyone calm down?

Folks will also shade unity saying things like, “let’s not get too kumbaya.” I know that it means avoiding being overly sentimental, idealistic, or naive when dealing with a situation or problem. But have we talked about how hard kumbaya actually is? How hard finding agreement is? In this economy?! Impossible.

It’s a weird phenomenon in the human mind. Scientific studies show that the very talk of togetherness can trigger group dynamics that, ironically, lead to further separation.

I once gave an antiracism sermon.[1] It was a deeply personal story. One of the hardest to preach, and one I often go back to as a reminder of the work I’m called to. Afterwards, someone invited me to lunch to tell me how offended they were about the sermon. After all, this person knew black people commit more crime. I asked where they learned that. They just knew it. Could it have anything to do with prejudice? They didn’t want to consider anything beyond what they already knew. They haven’t been back. Ever notice how talking against racism brings it out of people?

Unity is hard. And today, we have Jesus showing up and saying, in effect, “Oh, you thought I came to make this easier?”

Luke chapter 12 is a hard one. We’ve been in it all this month. The lectionary doesn’t even allow for the full chapter, which is a blessing in its own way. The chapter is composed of sayings and parables around living the life of faith. We will be persecuted for living like Jesus. It comes with a cost. We are taught the folly of material prosperity. There is a security that only God can provide. God will provide us our daily bread. Yet discipleship inevitably causes division.

Division always precedes reconciliation. At the Last Supper, Jesus seems to know this. His actions of washing his disciples’ feet, feeding them, and commanding them to love one another as he loves them leads to the covenant for “the forgiveness of sins.” It’s not a covenant for perfect unity. It’s not a covenant for perfect behavior. It’s for the forgiveness of sins, for forgiveness means something happened that wasn’t ideal.

The message of peace on earth has always been met with savage conflict. In the rush to war following 9/11, Kate’s best friend Nick had an idea. Taking a page from his parent’s book during Vietnam, we’d wear black arm bands around campus. Black arm bands were a resistance to the war. A call for peace. Saying that, “We do not agree to violence in our name.” I think we lasted 3 hours. No one else was picking up what we were putting down.

Peace gets a violent reaction. I remember looking at the photo of a young woman placing a flower in the barrel of a soldier’s gun. I was surprised how emotional I was when I visited my sister at Kent State. Seeing the places where the four students were shot on May 4, 1970. Unarmed student protestors. How could we get so divided on what seems so obvious now? Some of you were there. For me, this is ancient history. It happened when I was -12 years old. I recall Dave Weber’s story. Kent and Judy Daughtery told me a story today. Kent knew the young woman who was walking to class and was killed. Judy’s brother was in the national guard.

Calling for peace elicits violent responses. Calls for unity calls division. Asking folks to love leads to hateful responses. People up on crosses. Stoned to death. These sorts of things.

All throughout chapter 12, Jesus warns that those who make a commitment to him will find their relationships to others, even those closest to them, affect by that commitment. The call for decision is a call for division. Saying yes to Jesus means saying no to a whole host of things.

The same studies that show our tendency to division also show that introducing common goals, empathy-building, and highlighting shared identity can help heal divides. We are divided. And we are divided in, and forgive me for this opinion, the stupidest way. We are divided largely by liberals and conservatives. But that is the stupidest way to divide people, if we’re honest. No one is completely conservative on everything nor is everyone liberal on absolutely everything. Many liberals I know want to conserve the environment, national parks, and public schools. Many conservatives I know are very liberal on gun rights, business deregulation, and personal responsibility.

A few years ago, I walked into a local business looking for camping supplies for Sam’s cub scouts. I had a number of things to buy, but then I saw a flag. It said “0% liberal.” I put everything back on the shelf and told the owner that I didn’t believe that at all. He was very liberal on the second amendment. “Yeah, I guess so. It says ‘shall not be infringed. You want to take all my guns away.”

“No,” I said. “I just focus on the ‘well regulated’ part. Take care.”

That place is out of business now. Another tragedy of the culture war. Not that my $50 would have made a difference…

If we’re honest, we’re conservative about a lot of things. We want to conserve our building. Our place here on the Square since 1880. We would like to conserve marriage rights that have been in place for a decade. We’re conservative about our holiday traditions and rituals. They have meaning. Rituals are ancient technology of how wisdom is transmitted from generation to generation.

We’re also liberal on many things. I think I’d be very liberal on grandkids. The more the better. Many of you tell me grandkids are better than kids! You can sugar them up and give them back. That sounds great, but I guess you need one before the other. We are liberal in terms of the hungry being fed, the unsheltered sheltered, and liberal with forgiveness.

Looking at the life of Jesus, our Protestant founders talked about the liberal love of God found in the cross. “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do” has no qualifiers. The covenant is for the forgiveness of sins. Not everyone can do that. We keep the prayer Jesus prayed in John 17:21 “that they all may be one”, our denominations motto.

Throughout church history, we’ve had to grapple and deal with a desire for unity and the very human impulse to divide. David Zahl calls this “doubleness” in his book Low Anthropology. Doubleness refers to the competing forces, or voices, that drive our behavior. This term seeks to capture the complicated nature of human motivation and to give a label to the experience of being at odds with yourself.[2]

Four months into my ministry here, I was threatened by a church member. This was around my first Alive on the Square. We sang our opening song, “all are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome in this place.” But I didn’t feel that welcoming. Yet I was threatened. I had to resolve that my decision led to division. All are welcome but not all behaviors are.

I wish there was a simple way to put this. Yet I think that’s the whole point. This isn’t meant to be simple. It is meant to be true. We are called to face our doubleness. It is a fact of our nature. Just as we’re liberal on some things and conservative on others. Just as talking about unity will cause division. Our decision to follow Jesus will divide us from many people. We are called to face our doubleness. We cannot want peace so bad that we turn to violence. We cannot want unity so much that we dehumanize our neighbors. And who is our neighbor? The one you’re hoping I won’t say. I have a whole list as well, I’m in this with you.

Zahl didn’t come up with doubleness. The Apostle Paul writes in Romans 7:15, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” Three-hundred years later, Augustine of Hippo lamented, “I have become to myself a vast problem, an enigma to myself, and herein lies my problem.” He had a sense of humor about it, for he once prayed, “Lord, give me self-control, but not just yet.”[3]

For hope, I look to our friends in recovery. AA talks about bottoming out. This is the place where our desire to survive finally outweighs our desire to indulge or numb ourselves. We cannot reach people who are busy indulging in materialism or numbing themselves. There are many ways to do this, not just alcohol. There’s a whole host of ways. Yet when we get to the bottom of that, we find that we can only change when our desires do. When we realize that there’s a hole in our heart that only God can fill. Then we see a community ready to join us in the inner work.

This church work is slow and subtle, but over time I can look back and see how far I’ve come. I’m not patient. But I’m better than I was. I’m not a good Christian. But I’m better than I was. Yet the more I follow Christ, the more I’m divided from war, scapegoating, and the need for control. I’m convinced that love is the most powerful thing we know. That’s where I put my faith. That love will win out.

People hate that message. Love wins. Can’t be. Love seems so weak. Yet look what it can do. It makes you sing songs on the radio. It causes you to write cards. Love has the power to get introverts to birthday parties and celebrations. Love has the power to quiet extroverts to listen to a baby’s first words or a loved one’s last. Love brings us together here and now. The love of God found in Jesus Christ generates the Holy Spirit who sends us out to turn strangers into friends and friends into family.

Leaning into the love of God is a dangerous thing. So many people want to talk about God’s judgment. I don’t know about you, but I need less judgment in my life. I’m my own worst critic. I’m always disappointed in the things I write even when I speak, it seems the words will never come out right. [4]

I hope your heart understands my heart’s desire. The desire for more unity even in the face of division. The idea that love will wear down the defenses and that all will be one. And in the fullness of the kingdom of God, we will look after one another’s needs, preserve one another’s dignity, and protect one another’s pride. As that is how they will know we’re Christian. Amen.

Works Cited

[1] https://www.uccmedina.org/sermons/my-sheep-that-was-lost/

[2] Page 66.

[3] Confessions, Oxford University Press, 1992. Page 57 and 208.

[4] How do you know it’s not armadillo shells? Song by Hot Mulligan. Props to the 2 of you who got this reference.