The Division Among Us by Clyde Kunz

The Division Among Us
by Clyde Kunz

Reading: Esther 7:1-6, 9-10;9:20-22, Mark 9:33 - 41

Years ago when I first began attending an Episcopal church, I remember the Rector there saying how much he preferred reading the Old Testament to the New Testament. At the time I thought he must be crazy, because back all I could think of was that cliche of "The angry God of the Old Testament and the loving God of the New," and those long, long chapters filled with "so-and-so begat what's-his-name, and what's-his-name begat so-and-so." And of course the words of those truly cranky Hebrew prophets like Jeremiah predicting a future of destruction and death.

But... now that I'm considerably older and presumably at least a couple of ounces wiser, I've come to agree with my former Rector.

The Hebrew Scriptures are full of absolutely wonderful stories. Some are probably factual; others are allegorical or fanciful or metaphorical and call upon us to truly search for meaning in them. Some are graphically sensual enough to warrant at least an "R" rating from the folks who label the content of motion pictures. And yes - others are war-like and bloody enough to pique the interest of any adolescent boy.

Today's reading from Esther comes from one of the most interesting stories in the Old Testament, one that would make a terrific movie script. [This is, by the way, the only time in our 3-year lectionary cycle that we get a reading on Sunday from the Book of Esther, so enjoy it while you can.]

Queen Esther has to be considered one of the great heroes of the Bible. Jewish people remember and retell her story every year during the festival of Purim, which is coming up in March, and is celebrated with the exchange of gifts and making contributions to the poor.

The story of Esther is set in a period about 450 years before the time of Jesus. Queen Esther is married to King Ahasuerus, who does not know that she is Jewish. Esther's cousin Mordecai, who is also secretly Jewish, had in the chapters prior to this morning's reading thwarted a plot to kill the King, so the King was very much in his debt.

But then the King - not realizing some of those closest to him are Hebrews - has granted one of his lieutenants, Haman, permission to round up and kill all of the Jews. And why not? They were a people who the King and most of the Persian people despised, relegated to the lowest rungs of society and performing only menial tasks, usually as slaves.

And this morning we have the rest of the story in which Esther reveals her Jewish roots to her husband the King, and Haman's evil intentions are seen in a new light in which the King realizes his mistake in labeling an entire race of people as "less than." Our story ends with the Jews being saved and Haman receiving his just reward at the gallows.

What's not to like in a story like that?

Turning to the Gospel, we have to wonder, "What can possibly be the thru-line between these readings?" But - not to worry - I'm going to try to tell you what I think it is!

What's going on in the first few verses here in Mark? Prior to this the disciples have been arguing about which of them is the greatest, the worthiest, the most devoted, who among them is "Jesus' bestie." And Jesus brings them up short by picking up a child and telling them that in order to become His true disciples they must become like that little child.

But that doesn't stop them, does it? And here we have them pointing at some fellow who is casting out demons in Jesus' name. He's doing something good, right? Nonetheless, those disciples report to Jesus that they tried to stop him from doing so. And why?

To quote them: "Because he isn't following us."

Huh. As I recall, Jesus said, "Follow me," but I don't believe ever, ever, said, "Follow these guys who are trailing around the countryside behind me." But somehow, His closest disciples had gotten the impression that they were somebody special. That the other guy with that other group - admittedly doing good stuff - should be following them. They had begun decided for themselves who was part of the "in" crowd and who was not.

You see, they, like people throughout history, have always tended to identify people they don't know, people who aren't like them, as the "other." And the "other" can never be quite as good as we in our own group, can they?

Which is exactly what King Ahasuerus had done, isn't it? Identifying the Jews in his community as the "other" who - simply by virtue of their otherness - could not possibly be considered worthy. Even worthy enough to live.

I sometimes marvel at how much we are like both that King and those disciples with Jesus that day. I feel ashamed when I realize how many times I have criticized other Christians because of the way they worship or the particular beliefs they hold - usually having to do with contemporary social issues - that don't align with my own positions.

How many times have I silently cheered hearing that someone has joined our parish from another Christian denomination down the street, convincing myself that because we are part of the Episcopal branch of the Jesus Movement, we are somehow better that the denomination from which they came? I always seem to see that other denomination's loss as our gain, never acknowledging the possibility that there are likely people from THIS congregation who have now joined THEIR ranks!

And when I do so, what am I doing?

Exactly what those disciples did - asking Jesus who is the best among us. Criticizing someone who may be doing good works simply because "they aren't following us." I'm pointing a finger at the "other" and saying, "See, Jesus? I'm better than them. Aren't I? Aren't I?"

Even within Christianity, we work very hard at trying to create a world of "otherness" in which one group out-shines another. It's sad. Can you imagine how much good could be done in the world, how much the message of Jesus could be spread, if we were all rowing our boats in the same direction instead of arguing about what color of life vests we should bring aboard?

When we get outside the church walls, it is of course even worse. I've been repeatedly astounded by the level of vitriol in our society these days that I've grown almost numb to it. The racism, the sexism, the gender-bashing, and all the rest of it has risen to levels I would previously have imagined impossible.

And while that hatred exists in almost every aspect of society, it has become excruciatingly painful to witness it in what used to pass for political discourse.

And don't get me wrong: both sides of the political divide are guilty of it. Both sides engage in name-calling worthy only of a kindergarten playground, and now are even labeling their political opponent as "the enemy." What used to be called "a patriotic American who wants nothing but good for our country but would do it differently" has become "the enemy that wants to destroy us."

Words matter. And - just like that King 2,500 years ago who painted with a very broad stroke all Hebrew people into a monolithic group that wouldn't matter if it were destroyed - we are doing it today.

Whether we like it or not, we are being taught to hate. And those so-called "teachings" just grow louder and louder in this election year. But we, as Christians, need to stop and remind ourselves that have been taught by Jesus not to hate, but to love.

God is love. Our message should be love. And that message isn't just relevant when we are here within these church walls. Our love as Christians is supposed to extend into the world, extend into the fabric of our everyday lives, Extend into discussions with our friends and co-workers, and yes - even extend into our politics.

But - unfortunately - instead of rowing in the same direction as Americans, we are still arguing over the color of those life jackets.

In case you haven't heard, in just a few weeks we'll have an election. Please vote. Please vote. And it's absolutely none of my concern who or what you vote for. That is for you to decide, thoughtfully and prayerfully and each of us using our God-given reasoning skills.

But I do know this: if I approach that voting booth with hatred in my heart - especially if it is hatred toward another group that may think and vote differently than I think and vote - I'm doing it wrong. I'm not carrying the love of God with me into that booth or into the decisions I will make there. It is my hope that this year - this year - we can find a way to do so.

I want to close with one of my favorite passages of scripture. In my opinion it is one of the best descriptions of how to live a Christian life that appears anywhere in the Bible.

It isn't in this morning's readings (and it fact it NEVER appears on a Sunday in our lectionary, so it may sound unfamiliar to you) but it comes from 2 Corinthians 2:15.

For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.

May we all learn to recognize that call to be the aroma of Christ in the world, beginning by recognizing the "otherness" we tend to see in groups we do not know, in individuals we have never met and do not yet understand.

And may we consciously replace the hatred we are being taught to feel with something else. With a feeling of love. So that we together might learn to become the aroma of Christ in the world. And to carry that aroma with us everywhere we go, with everyone we meet, and in every situation in which we find ourselves. Even if it's a voting booth. Amen.

Clyde Kunz is an Honorary Canon in the Diocese of Arizona and a gay man in a 38 year relationship.

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