Fr. Bill Carroll – The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, August 4, 2024

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I’ll admit it, I thought about this sermon while we were on vacation.  The fourth chapter of Ephesians has always been an important Scripture to me.  It’s one of the lessons appointed by the Prayer Book “for the unity of the Church.”  It is also used at the ordination of a priest.  And I’ve preached about it more than a dozen times—not only at ordinations, but also at the beginning of the Second IRAQ war and in the midst of various church conflicts about human sexuality.

 This summer—in San Diego, in Phoenix, in El Paso and Austin—I struggled with this lesson as I saw desperate people living on the streets. I struggled with it even more as I learned about the Supreme Court’s recent ruling that paves the way for local authorities to remove homeless camps by force.  The Governor of California intends to do exactly that.  The County Supervisors in Los Angeles are choosing a different, more compassionate approach.  And I am so proud of them.  

I thought about this lesson also when we saw a rocket from Hezbollah crater a soccer field in the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights, killing twelve precious children.  I thought about it as we saw hospitals attacked in the midst of life-threatening injuries and a new polio outbreak in Gaza.  I thought about it when a young man stabbed several children and a couple of adults at a dance hall in a small English town.  It reminded me of similar incidents (too many to count, most involving guns)—in schools, nightclubs, and shopping malls and in churches, mosques, and synagogues— here in America.

I thought about the lesson yet again as I saw gunshots and chaos erupt at the rally for former President Trump.  We are in for a rough ride this season–with social unrest and deep divisions all around us.  At times, the violence may even infect our own hearts.  

We need to be praying.  We need to be praying for all candidates for public office.  We need to be praying for the citizens of our country as we go to the polls.  We need to be praying for those who are trying to exercise their right to vote, as well as their right to speak freely and assemble for peaceful protest. We need to be praying for ourselves, that we might be part of the solution, instead of just being another part of the problem.  Because the guns may come out again.  It is a dangerous time to be alive.

For the past fifteen years or so, this has been a major theme in my preaching:  the dangers of violence that we are all in because of our divisions, our injustice, and our fear.  We cannot continue to ignore the cries of our poor neighbors who go without food, shelter, and other necessities of life.  (People from every race, every tribe, every nation, who are living in our midst, who are going without the things they need to live.)  We may not know what to do, but we cannot just ignore them and pretend they will go away.  Nor can we continue to tolerate violent rhetoric and actions–with hatred and contempt in our hearts toward any human being whatsoever (no matter who they are, how they vote, or where they are from, even if we disagree with them).  

This much I know:  Jesus is the answer.  Following him means maintaining unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.  It means we are called to be peacemakers.  It means we must build community and better relationships with our fellow human beings.  It begins with those closest to us.  But it doesn’t stop there.  It moves out in ever-expanding circles, without limit or end.  According to Ephesians, Jesus breaks down the walls that divide us, creating one new humanity in place of the two, wherever human beings are divided.

God calls us to the difficult work of peacemaking, because that is what Jesus did.  This work is costly to God.  By the blood of his Cross, Jesus reconciles us with God and each other.  He has nothing to do with the false peace that glosses over our differences.  Nor does he forge peace at the point of a gun.  Jesus absorbs the world’s violence, rather than amplifying it. He makes it better.  He doesn’t make it worse.  He doesn’t just pass it on.  He calls us to just and loving relationships with our neighbors—all  of them, even our enemies.  And doing that is costly.  It costs Jesus his own life.

In today’s Epistle, Paul appeals to his suffering as an apostle and a “prisoner in the Lord.”  (He is imprisoned for his ministry.)  He goes on to speak about real and lasting peace.  In the Name of Jesus, he urges us to be “worthy of the calling to which we have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”  

The Apostle is preaching to sinners like you and me, who pass by our neighbors when they lie wounded in a ditch.  He is speaking to us whenever we are tempted to give up on each other—whenever we are tempted to use our words, our fists, or our guns to hurt each other.

Paul is inviting us to grow into the “full stature of Christ.”  When we grow up, we will look like Jesus.  This means asking ourselves some hard questions.  It means rigorous (often, painful) honesty with ourselves.  It means nurturing personal relationships and being willing to change.  Because Jesus lived and died for all of us, and every human being is worthy of our love and friendship.  

It’s hard work.  Patience, gentleness, and mutual forbearance are necessary, because they alone create a climate where we can listen to each other.  We need these virtues in our world today.  If you have any doubt, just tune in to talk radio, turn on the nightly news, or check your social media.

Or, if you have the stomach for it, look at the violence and despair all around. look at the people who are sleeping in our streets.  Listen for the savage anger that is all around us right now.  All too often, we rush to judgment.  And we lash out at any convenient target, rather than working for constructive change.  Beloved, this is not Christ’s way.

As members of his Body, we have been set free, and we have been given power to continue his work of love.  Our only real hope for peace lies in getting serious about Jesus and his ways.  For we have been made one with him in Holy Baptism.  And he has called us to follow in his steps.  

That’s where the Bread of Life comes in.  We need Jesus to feed us.  We need to draw our strength from him.  For the peace of God is beyond our human strength.  It comes to us as a gift (as grace), or it does not come at all.  The Eucharist is where we gather to receive God’s grace–to root ourselves in Jesus.  It is where we gather in God’s new community, to catch sight of God’s vision for the world..

Jesus said, “I am the bread of life.  Whoever comes to me will never be hungry…”  So come to him.  Come to him.  And do not be afraid.  

Amen.