“God made no distinction between them and us.” From our present standpoint it takes some effort to hear how very radical was Peter’s statement at what’s come to be known as the First Council of Jerusalem. But for Luke, who is also the author of Acts, this is the pivot point on which the story of Spirit-inspired expansion of the young church turns.
From about Chapter 10 on, Peter, Barnabas, Paul and others had been keeping company with gentiles and announcing the Good News to them, often at great personal risk and sometimes without the support of other believers. Now we’ve come to the point in the story wherein Peter makes his case, in the company of his Jewish peers, that the salvation of the gentiles is part of God’s plan. And we learn—by virtue of quoting Amos, as James does in the middle of the lesson we just heard—that the apparent outsiders have always been part of God’s plan.
This is a big deal for people whose identity was shaped by living under oppression and holding on to a particular messianic hope for generations. Maintaining the “them and us,” that Peter refers to had been a matter of survival for the Jews. Which prompted me to ask myself: when the going gets rough, whom do I make distinctions between?
Taking a fearless moral inventory of my own capacity to create “them and us” categories is hard work for me. Mostly because I don’t much like shining light into the dark corners of my soul where I harbor judgments. But just to open up the category of “us” a but, I’d venture to say that it’s hard work for most of us Episcopalians, and harder still for those of us who live in the Bay Area. For some good reasons: most of us love this church and this city because we know them to be open and accepting.
But it’s when we become most comfortable with ourselves and our categories that we’re in the most spiritual jeopardy. So let me confess. I have a tendency to think of Trump supporters as “them.” Also, I’m a bit meritocratic, so I sometimes think less of them who don’t try hard enough according to my own unrealistic standards. And then there’s all those judgmental people who use “them and us” categories. Surely I’m not like them.
That’s supposed to be a laugh line. But more seriously, good news that’s good only for some only increases the quota of badness in the world. The whole Bible and our present political reality bear witness to that. So the question for us is, will we have the courage of Peter, Barnabas and Paul to announce to the current equivalent of gentiles—whomever we construe them to be— that God so loved the world that he gave himself for “them” as well as for us?
Which brings me to the most humbling and hopeful aspect of the Council of Jerusalem. When the Church first gathered, it was not in order to put categories of limits on what God’s capacity to love. It was not to strengthen any conception of “us” at the expense of “them.” Rather, the Church gathered to discern to how God’s spirit was leading the disciples and their new and expanding community, and to transform the world. That’s still our challenge and our invitation.
What Peter himself had learned—and what this key chapter of Acts teaches us—is that God longs to enter into a relationship with all human beings. As the father loved Jesus, so Jesus loves us. It really is that simple. In Christ there is a breadth of welcome that surprised the disciples themselves, and should surprise us—and call us to account—every day.
Do we know what proclaiming and acting in faithfulness to God’s inclusive Gospel means, beyond requiring that we suspend our judgment about who are “them and us”? The answer provided by Acts is clearly “no”. In faith—and in council with each other—the disciples went and did profoundly countercultural things whose import and meaning would only become clear much later. We wouldn’t be gathered in here today if not for their witness. And like Peter, Barnabas and Paul, we are still called to follow the One who loves all those categories of people who don’t love each other. This is huge. Who can do likewise?
Us. And you know what, them too! And God does not send us out empty to do this reconciling work. If we are going to love outside of our comfort zones, first we must give ourselves the permission to know love and to receive love. I love, Jesus reminded us, as God has loved me. That would be very same God who—through Jesus—broke down the “them and us” barriers between heaven and earth and life and death. So let us abide in God’s boundary-less love, and let it so fill us. So much so that that we can’t help but share it with “them,” whomever “they” may be for us.
