There is No “Them” →Discipleship=Reconciliation
There’s a quote I read recently that keeps strring up trouble for me:
“The mission of the church today, as it was for the early church, is to reconcile us to God. But first, Jesus tells us, we must be reconciled to our sisters and brothers. Reconciliation-healing the rifts created by violence, discrimination, and greed-that is the church’s mission. Reconciliation for the sake of the flourishing of all life is what being a disciple of Jesus is all about.” (Wesley Study Bible, CEB, notes on social holiness in Matthew 28)
Reconciliation is the job description. It’s supposed to be that simple and clear if you believe in God, and claim to follow Jesus. Not right theology. Not correct practice. Not attaining cultural influence or political power. Reconciliation.
My mind is on overload with the back and forth of the state of healthcare for our country, let alone many other aspects of our political reality. I’m not sure we’re doing so well in the “reconciliation” department considering the state of the world I’m walking in…Can Republicans and Democrats be reconciled? Can the federal government be reconciled across borders with people of all nations? Can we really be reconciled across “the rifts created by violence, discrimination, and greed?” Maybe only in some other time and place that I can’t begin to imagine right now? Right now I just want to bury my head and wait for the conflict to die down. But I can’t, beacuse as a UMC pastor these matters of healthcare and compassion for my neighbors transcend political affiliation.
And so I keep being nagged by this idea that my job is to work for reconciliation and “healing the rifts created by violence, discrimination, and greed” in the world “for the sake of the flourishing of all life.” No matter where I might fall on a political spectrum, or with my voting history, I keep being asked these questions: Am I committed to the flourishing of all life? Are our leaders, many of whom claim the name of Christ as a moral guide for their governing work, committed to the flourishing of all life? Where is there room for this way of being in the intersections of loving my neighbor in a partisan America? Do we have to agree to be reconciled? Do we have to vote alike, live alike, think alike, and pray alike? Is reconciliation a zero-sum game of clear winners and losers, riddled with uncomfortable compromise that leaves everyone slightly unhappy? Is it naive to think of some way where people not only share space, but also have genuine community with shared growth and thriving?
That’s where my conviction is falling tonight. That’s where my role as a person of faith should start and end: in a relationship of reconciliation that might bridge harm and instead offer flourishing. As I said, this rollercoaster of healthcare hanging in the balance for millions of my neighbors has me wondering how these policies take shape when the USA or the State of Texas governments do their work, including these upcoming hypothetical pieces of legislation and the accompanying budgets and dollars to be allocated. These are not merely pieces of legislation for a faceless bureaucracy. These are moral statements of what we collectively value. We send our representatives to DC or Austin to literally represent our collective values. It does not seem evident to me that reconciliation is a value currently or consistently on the table. Where in this process can we demonstrably point to the value of the flourishing of all life?
Personally, I can understand that for many people the current state of health care offered through the Affordable Care Act (or ObamaCare) isn’t perfect, but I’m not convinced that reconciliation lies in its outright removal. Instead I wish reconciliation could be found in offering even more compassion for one another. This is the heart of my phone calls when I reach out to my legislators (you can do that here : https://www.usa.gov/elected-officials). Can agree that the systems we’ve built aren’t perfect while seeking a strategy that can include more flourishing for all people?
And then I add my spiritual life into the mix, where I can’t read my Bible and NOT feel convicted that part of reconciliation for the pains of the world includes physical care for my neighbors (even just in Matthew 25). And on top of that, I can’t be a United Methodist and NOT feel convicted that part of reconciliation for the pains of the world includes physical care for my neighbors (http://www.umc.org/what-we-believe/what-is-the-united-methodist-churchs-position-on-health-care-reform). Is it possible to see through a lens of compassion for all people, across the divides that create and continue antagonism? Is that kind of relationship possible for any of us at all in the name of a greater good?
In this conviction, I have stumbled into the difficult reminder offered by Thomas Merton. When it comes to humanity, “There is no them.” What reflection might take place in the heart of humanity, or conversion of compassion, or shift in perspective might bring this truth to life? How might seeing connections to neighbors (even my neighbor who would vote differently than me), our fellow humans on the journey, shift if we could believe that, “There is no them?” How might we work for the flourishing of all life if every Christian took to heart this hope for one another?
When “there is no them,” there is less room for me to become entrenched my often siloed and tunnel-visioned arguments. When “there is no them,” I have to listen. When “there is no them,” I have to work harder to be human and to see my neighbor in the context of our shared experience. When “there is no them,” I have to care. I have to seek reconciliation. For me this thought process keeps manifesting in this burning need that I have to call my elected officials and ask that we, not “they,” have compassion for one another. When this truth that “there is no them” really sinks in, I feel I have no choice but to try and dream and work for “healing the rifts created by violence, discrimination, and greed” wherever they show up. I pray for a time for each of that where compassion for our neighbors might transcend political affiliation, and we might all see how “there is no them.”
