First, Be Reconciled with Your Brother and Sister
By Rev. Dr. Karin Case
June 06, 2010
TheSecond Sunday After Pentecost
Lessons: Matthew 5:11-13, 21-26, 43-48
My time as your Interim Minister will draw to a close in a few weeks—toward the end of July. As I think about saying goodbye to you, my heart is full of gratitude. I have most often felt like your minister—plain and simple—rather than an abbreviated Interim Minister. And that has been pretty sweet. It has been a wonderful, rich time for me. I look forward to saying more about that in the weeks ahead as we say farewell to each other.
But today, I want to speak specifically as your Interim. In particular, I want to share some reflections on the time of transition you’ve been experiencing over the last two years. One of the important intentional tasks of an interim period is coming to terms with your past.
There are so many indications that the First Church is healthy and strong and ready to transition to a new leadership team this Fall, with Ute Molitor as your new Minister of Spiritual Formation and the wonderful Dan Smith beginning his third year as your Senior Minister. There are so many signs of vitality. The ministries of the church are healthy—from the Deacons to Stewardship and Finance, to Missions and Social Justice. First Church is widely experienced as a friendly, welcoming place with a rich and spirited worship life. Leadership is drawn from newcomers and old timers, alike. You are preparing to celebrate your 375th anniversary next year. And at the same time you are taking on new initiatives like eco-stewardship and sacred conversations on race. The Spirit is alive and well at First Church!
In the last couple of months I’ve been working with leaders to take a look back at the last two years. Staff members, Deacons, Executive Council, and members of the Clearness Committee (from 2008) have gathered in various combinations to reflect on where First Church has been and what you’ve learned in this time of transition.
Here’s some of what we’ve talked about. The transition was hard, at first. Really hard. The congregation experienced feelings of grief, loss, and even anger at Mary Luti’s departure. It was unexpected. The time frame felt too short. People were in confusion and disagreement about the proper process for reviewing Dan’s candidacy for the Senior Minister position. And meanwhile, in a few short months, several beloved members of the congregation died, adding more grief to the equation. There was much uncertainty, anxiety, anger, and sadness in the air. Under the weight of all that, people became reactive.
From systems theorists, we know that when an organization is in transition, like First Church was, experiencing heighted anxiety, people often become reactive. We are not our best selves. We say and do things we would not do under ordinary circumstances. There is a clear biological basis for this. When we a experience anxiety and stress, a part of the brain called the amygdala kicks into operation. Also called the lower cortex, or the reptilian brain, this is the part of the brain connected with the “fight or flight” response. When this part of our brain is triggered we are not good at thinking and reasoning. We’re not good at reading nuanced social signals, or navigating complex relationships.[i]
The reptilian brain sends out distress signals, like the robot from Lost in Space, screaming, “Warning, Will Robinson! Danger! Danger!” The brain goes a little bit whack-o. (That’s a technical term) And let’s just say, we don’t behave like our kindest, gentlest selves. It’s nobody’s fault, really—just part of being a mammal with a reptilian lower cortex. But it’s no fun.
What I’ve learned is that two years ago, when there was a lot of anxiety in the air, the going was not easy. People said things, sometimes face to face, and sometimes via e-mail, that were experienced as hurtful. Leaders felt it most keenly. As is typical in an anxious system, leaders “catch” a lot of free-floating emotions. It was a painful and lonely time for a number of First Church leaders, as well as for some members of the congregation.
I am told that it didn’t feel like you were honoring your covenant “to support each other in [y]our frailties and [y]our strengths,” and to “embody that love which overcomes fear and death.”
Some of you probably have no idea what I’m talking about, and that’s okay. For others, this may be painfully familiar territory. I bring it up, not in order to stir up trouble or open old wounds but because I believe the gospel has something very specific and hopeful to say to us.
The passage from Matthew 5 gets right to the heart of the matter. Jesus calls us the salt of the earth, the light of the world, a city on a hill. And then he gets right down to some frank, hard talk. Hard talk about what it’s like when members of a community are disrespectful, angry and hurtful toward one another.
Jesus begins with the commandment against murder and moves quickly to something more immediate and familiar to all of us: anger. “You have heard it said, ‘You shall not murder,’ but I say to you, if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment.” Jesus is probing more deeply into what is behind this Torah injunction against murder: God’s abiding desire that we should not harm one another.
Even and insulting remark is not to be taken lightly. Matthew declares, “And if you say, ‘You fool!’ you will be liable to judgment.” The declaration is not about how to love a distant, abstract neighbor—but a rather, a specific directive about how to regard members of our own Christian fellowship—our “brothers and sisters.” The words are extreme—“You will be liable to the hell of fire.”
Now, “hellfire” doesn’t figure prominently in my belief system. But I do know a couple of things. First, harsh words and actions can gravely separate us from each other and from spiritual wellbeing. Small things can have large repercussions in an intimate community. It can feel like hell. But second, and more important, with God’s help, reconciliation and wholeness are possible.
The First Church Covenant of 1630 entreats us to be gentle and kind with one another. We covenant “to walk in all our ways according to the rule of the Gospel, and in mutual love and respect each to the other, so near as God shall give us grace.” The Covenant of 1990 puts it in more contemporary language. It calls us “to support each other in our frailties and our strengths, that we may embody that love which overcomes fear and death.”
As you know, a covenant is a mutual agreement that holds all parties accountable to one another. Christians believe that God is a dynamic partner in our covenant. Secular parties enter into contracts. People of faith enter into covenants. The added ingredient is the Holy Spirit, who binds fearful, fallible, disparate people into one body. The gentle Spirit, who calls us to forgiveness and reconciliation and healing.
We will make mistakes. We will speak words we wish we could retract, because we are human—after all—and that’s how humans behave. What’s key, I suspect, is how we handle it when it does happen. This is where Jesus’ words come in. He’s saying, “pay attention!” When you come to the altar to give your gift, check it out—how are things between you and your brother? How are things between you and your sister? If they’re not right, leave your gift, go and be reconciled. Then come and offer your gift. He’s talking about the emotional and spiritual wisdom of life in community and the need for apology, forgiveness, and reconciliation.
It’s not about anger management. It’s about spiritual health and wholeness. Notice that Jesus doesn’t say: “If you are angry at someone, go, be reconciled.” Rather, he says, “If you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift to God.”
First, be reconciled to your brother or sister. The Greek verb is diallasso, which means to renew friendship. Matthew 5 is the only place in the Bible where this exact word appears. Be reconciled. It’s not about diplomacy or settling accounts. It’s about friendship. That tender hearted, risky human activity. With our friends we share mutual intimacy and vulnerability. We see the other person for who she really is, and we love her anyway. We allow ourselves to be seen—in all our frailty—as we really are. Intimate friendship is a blessed and terrifying activity.
The hard knocks of life have taught most of us that this kind of vulnerability is not safe with everyone. And yet, we find ourselves in a covenantal community. God help us! A large group of people (let’s call it a congregation!) whom we promise to hold “in mutual love and respect” and “to support each other in our frailties and our strengths.” So near as God shall give us grace.
So near as God shall give use grace. The Spirit is present with us now, mending our wounds, massaging out the knots and tight places, softening our hearts, opening us to forgiveness, healing and new life.
Let us join our hearts and voices in A Litany of Hope and Healing:
Leader: Holy and intimate God, who knows us better than we know ourselves, hold our lives this community of faith. If there are times we have spoken harshly to one another, forgive us. And help us forgive one another.
Response: God, hear our prayers and give us grace.
Leader: For our simple human failings, O God, forgive us. If we have been quick to judge, if we have spoken or acted in ways that were harsh, mindless and hurtful, forgive us.
Response: God, hear our prayers and give us grace.
Leader: Draw us into a community of friendship that we may regard one another tenderly, treat each other with compassion and caring, and walk in mutual love and respect, one for the other.
Response: God, hear our prayers and give us grace.
Leader: Holy One, help us to love one another as you love us. May we truly support one another in our frailties and strengths and embody that love which overcomes fear and death.
Response: God, hear our prayers and give us grace.
Leader: Lead us into a bright future, reconciled to each other, forgive, and set free by your love. Amen!
[i] See the work of Peter Steinke, from whom these insights on systems theory and the amygdala are drawn.