Making Room for Our Enemies and Everyone Else (a sermon)

          At first glance, the choice of scripture for this conference of clergypersons might seem a bit like wishful thinking. For the most part, the United Methodist Church is not bringing in new souls on a daily basis. Unlike the very early Jesus Movement, new members are not joining steadily as the Risen Christ’s followers did, as described by the gentile doctor Luke:  they were worshipping together daily in the Jewish temple and enacting the Eucharist meal in members’ homes. Surely they had a harder time “making room” for hungry new converts in small Middle Eastern dining rooms than we do in our churches. (How do you get congregants to fill in the seats closer to the front, anyway?). Much of our budgetary, program, and worship planning is infused with wishes for more members.

          However, we do not read the Bible literally. We are not envious of the salad days of Christianity; rather, we are in awe that such a huge spiritual movement sprang from a small, embattled minority of the Roman Empire. Amazingly, it jumped from some messianic factions of Jews to various communities throughout the Mediterranean, prevailed against the no-nonsense Romans until it emerged from within as the triumphal leader of the Holy Roman Empire. Clearly, the ancient Hellenistic world was ready for monotheism. I ask the following question not because I have any answers, but, What inspiration are we, located in the current world’s center of power, ready for?

            We do try to apply Acts 4:26-27 semi-literally. There are some thriving house churches and many Wesleyan-style group meetings. We have a long, convivial tradition of pitch-in dinners. My own church organizes home-based dinners that place people together who might not know each other well. Although they sometimes degenerate into 2^nd- or 3^rd-hand gossip-fests, these dinners have helped to create strong, lifelong bonds. Together we bemoan the devastation caused by deer in our gardens, much as the early Christians bemoaned Roman occupation. Well, kind of.

           However, if Acts 4:26-27 is not read literally we do have much in common with the early Christians. Just as the early Christians were worshipping and communing together in house churches in the wake of the original Pentecost, we meet here today in the time following our celebration of Pentecost, a yearly reminder of the Spirit of God who joins us in holy love. For all of us, early as well as contemporary Christians, Pentecost caps off the Christ-oriented Easter season with a supremely Trinitarian emphasis. God is with us three-dimensionally, as Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and as Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. From the beginning, from modest home-based re-enactments of the Final Supper to stylized, high-church, liturgically rich Eucharist ceremonies we all celebrate God’s work in us and throughout history, remember Christ’s sacrifice and wonder at our inclusion in God’s kingdom, and revel in the Spirit’s fellowship that sanctifies and heartens us to be God’s hands in the world.    

          Modern theologian from Bosnia Miroslav Volf (whose book Exclusion and Embrace I am actually reading) recalls the early Christian concept of perichoresis in discussing the action of the Trinity. I picture perichoresis like an eternal, spherical, multicolored Maypole dance, with the three persons of the Trinity intertwining in perfect harmony and sequence, continually creating beauty for God’s dearly loved earth. It’s a pretty picture of divinity, but as theologians have commented, what does perichoresis tell us about how to act? What is the ethical value of perichoresis? Volf provides a compelling explanation of our involvement in divine perichoresis. Volf says,

“Humanity is, however, not just the other of God, but the beloved other who has become an enemy. When God sets out to embrace the enemy, the result is the cross. On the cross the dancing circle of self-giving and mutually indwelling divine persons opens up for the enemy; in the agony of the passion the movement stops for a brief moment and a fissure appears so that sinful humanity can join in [see John 17:21]….Having been embraced by God, we must make space for others in ourselves and invite them in—even our enemies.”  

There is so much packed into this quote that I’ll interpret his words, and then read them again. Volf envisions God proceeding in the ongoing Trinitarian dance of perichoresis, but God wishes to include us, even though we’ve estranged ourselves from God. Inevitably, Christ’s earthly journey ends at the cross, which becomes the site where God cracks open a space for us. In response to God’s grace we must also make space for those who are our enemies. [Repeat Volf quote.]    

          Perhaps you’ve recognized the very theme of the 2012 Conference, “Making Room,” in Volf’s words. God makes space for us, so we must make space for others. As Volf puts it, “we must make space for others in ourselves and invite them in—even our enemies.” Two things are important here: one, that we make space in ourselves, and two, that we make space for our enemies. Starting with the early Christians, who had to learn the lesson that tax-collectors, Samaritans, and prostitutes, not to mention uncircumcised gentiles, are welcome, all Christians are challenged to make room in our own narrow worldviews for the other. For the enemy, even.

          Who is the enemy? Certainly we each have our nemeses, bullies from our childhoods we’ve managed to love in retrospect, or rivals who have gotten too far under our skin. We struggle to deal fairly with opponents who endorse or commit actions we find politically, ideologically, or physically reprehensible. But we identify these enemies individually. What about the ones selected for us by society, whom we may not harbor personal resentment against? What about the scapegoats (historically our most recent immigrants), or the unemployed purveyors of black-market goods, or the least-mainstream-behaving people? We have to consider these “enemies” as people who need to be loved, defended, and included, as we are all included in God’s love. However, loving unconditionally is really hard, since our natural inclination is to hold out love as a condition for a change in behavior. Even harder is maintaining Christian humility in the face of defiant self-defense. It’s very difficult to resist the upwelling of self-righteousness, as we all know. Conflicts do get personal, and enemies don’t always want to be redeemed on our terms.

          Consider the “enemy” Muslim. Our country is at war against people who define themselves principally as Muslims, and we’ve already incurred over one hundred thousand civilian causalities. Our government has stretched the limits of laws protecting citizen privacy, strenuousness of interrogation, and public trials, mostly in reaction to the vile behavior of a small percentage of Muslims. The majority of American Muslims live unobtrusively, unwilling to protest the wars in the Middle East for fear of association with the extremists. These traditional enemies of the Christian faith, these infidels, don’t even want to be “saved” in our Christian manner. Imagine making room for them!

          I do, in fact, make room in my living room for the prayer rugs of Muslim family members. I make space in my budget and schedule to cook extra food that is ready for them to eat at precisely sunset every day during the month of Ramadan. I’ve made room in my heart for these family members on their own terms, not without some interreligious tension—but I certainly haven’t resolved the overriding issues of loving societal enemies. Let my experience be one small example of a few socially maligned enemies humanized by interpersonal bonding.

          Actually, interpersonal bonding can go a long way. It can be the basis for interfaith dialogue and action, which can unite people across faiths, and even bring out the best in members of each tradition. Our scripture for the conference makes a wonderful model for interfaith relations, for it demonstrates people inviting others into the fold with glad hospitality.

 And, if we’ve succeeded in welcoming former enemies into fellowship, how much simpler is it to welcome other Christians ecumenically? How about genuine United Methodists from across the world?

True story: Here is where I took a break to walk the dogs and assess where this sermon was headed. As I started out in the neighborhood with my parents I mused aloud whether the point of loving one’s neighbor is to expand our ability to be inclusive, so that people already defined as brethren would be that much easier to accept. Neat trick, God, getting us to embrace United Methodists in Africa and Asia even more readily than we accept the Presbyterians across the street. But one drawback to this conclusion is the danger of ranking people by degree of enemy-ness.  

          I also wondered aloud if I really want to endorse Miroslav Volf’s heavy emphasis on our guilt in becoming enemies of God, and the associated burden of gratitude requiring us to love our own enemies. My parents agreed that those are interesting issues, then changed the subject (conversations with me can be too weighty for a daily dog walk). When we got about three blocks from home some beautiful, giant raindrops began to fall, and before long we were getting soaked. As we stood under a big tree getting more soaked the thunder kicked in, the dogs whined and squirmed, the rain fell in sheets, and we could tell this was more than a short cloudburst. When we thought we were as wet as we could get, we struck out, wading across the flash-flooded street with our clothes slapping against our skin. We made it home wet to the bone, but not before my dog made a stop that had to be scooped up. During my ill-advised shower (the thunder seemed to be receding) I decided that I would take this downpour as a sign for my sermon.

          Some might take it as a stern warning against dragging the theology so deep into our human culpability. If I’d only heard the storm from the safety of home I might’ve taken it that way, but I was actually out in it getting drenched. Therefore, I must recognize that I am implicated in this “enemy” situation. Although Volf does NOT invoke guilt and sin in traditional ways, our liability could stand some updating from the original-sin era. Let me be clear: we are continually estranging ourselves from God, every time we create an enemy. Whether we behave as enemies towards individuals or groups, whether it is an isolated affront or an ongoing action by a group of which we are a part, even our nation, we must work to recognize and change our own enemy behaviors through Christian love. Enemies are not simple givens, or fixed in the past, but are also created and upheld by well meaning people like us, intentionally or not.   

          This is not meant to heap even more guilt on us, but rather to help us see our active role in defining who our enemies are, which frees us to circumvent the whole reactive cycle. Metaphorically eliminating the log in our own eyes would surely “make room” for more loving inclusiveness of others. We know in our souls that God is constantly and unconditionally making room for us to live in God’s embrace, and we are inspired to share this joy with everyone who God loves: that is, everyone.