Sermon for 8th Sunday after Pentecost – Ephesians 2:11-22

This week I’ve been assisting the Lutheran Deaconness Conference to host their annual meeting on Zoom. With 140 or so guests in one meeting, it makes for a pretty exciting and action packed time behind the scenes! At any rate, one of the things that fascinates me about the LDC, is that their membership is fairly equally split between the ELCA and the LCMS – two Lutheran denominations (there are a number of them, actually) which haven’t been known to play nicely with each other, for a variety of reasons (full disclosure, I’m a member of the ELCA). Yet, this is a large community of folks who are deeply committed to a thriving community that demonstrates honest grace. So, what makes this kind of gracious community possible?

Well, St. Paul has some thoughts about it in our reading from his letter to the Ephesians. From the way Paul talks about them, they sound like the perfect church. It’s a time of blessing (1:3). They’ll make the wisdom of God known to rulers and authorities (3:9-10). Paul’s heard of their faith and constantly gives thanks for their example (1:16). That’s high praise. Compare all that to some of Paul’s other letters where he rails about heresy, scandal, persecution, gossip – a laundry list of issues. If only we could all be like the Ephesians!

But there has to be a catch, right?

Skip to the end of the epistle, and Paul starts warning them to get ready for battle. Now, it’s not a battle against enemies of flesh and blood, since apparently they get along with everybody. Instead Paul names the “spiritual forces of evil”, the “rulers and authorities and cosmic powers of this present darkness.” (6:12) He warns them to put on the whole armor of God – the brestplate of righteousness, the belt of truth, the shield of faith, because there’s a war happening.

Now, how could there be a war if things are going so great? Well, here’s the thing. Ephesus is a swank city. It’s the second most powerful city of the Roman Empire, next to Rome. It’s huge. It’s propserous. Folks are rich. This Roman Empire situation is working great for them. So they like to show their appreciation. Lots of festivals and rituals to honor and worship the emperor and the Roman gods. Lots of patriots, if you will. And there’s a whole service industry based around this patriotism because it’s big business. This should sound very familiar to us, I think. And here’s the slogan they like to chant – “The emperor is our peace.” That is, if peace means “military dominance” and “law and order” and “crucify the traitors.” But they’re not thinking like that. This sort of privilege kind of re-wires your thinking a little bit. You start believing that the authorities are always on your side.

So imagine the uproar when these folks hear Paul’s letter. “In Christ Jesus you who were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace.” Wow! That’s what the emperor says! But Paul’s saying no. The emperor’s wrong. That’s gutsy. It means all this emperor worship and hyped-up shows of patriotism amount to idolatry. True peace doesn’t come by force. Talk about public safety just becomes a coverup so the emperor can hang onto power and flex muscles. So what if these folks weren’t so patriotic? What if they started asking questions? Would the emperor seem so peaceful then? So that’s why Paul talks about “the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” He’s not naming names, but you get the point. How controversial is that? You know, if Paul was here with us right now, I wonder if it would be a stretch to imagine him suggesting “defund the police”? It seems like a miracle that he ever managed to start a church in Ephesus at all. Because when Paul says “he is our peace”, he’s saying. “The only one who brings true peace is the guy that your Empire crucified like a traitor. And he wasn’t even a Roman citizen like you.”

Wow. It’s amazing how many Christians are convinced that the Bible isn’t political. Because this sounds pretty political. But here’s the thing. Politics are just a symptom. What Paul’s really getting at here is the deeper problem. A spiritual problem. When you’re an insider like these Ephesians, you stop questioning authority. And you start celebrating it loud and proud because you start believing that the authorities really do guarantee peace. That they’re always on your side. So when you see certain kinds of folks getting targeted by authority, Paul calls them “strangers and aliens,” they start looking kind of suspicious to you too. Like maybe they’re a threat to society. Otherwise this wouldn’t be happening, right? That bugs Paul, because this isn’t what Jesus died for. So Paul tries to remind the Ephesians about when they were outsiders. “Remember when you were without Christ. Not chosen by God. Excluded from God’s promises.” Except, these Ephesians are so entangled with the same authorities that oppress and exploit outsiders like the stranger and the alien. They think things are great and getting better. Can they even hear what Paul’s saying? We don’t know.

What about us? I know the news can be a little overwhelming these days, but if you keep up at all, then it sure sounds like we have a lot in common with the Ephesians. A lot of blind trust and suspicion. So we argue. We pick sides. We’re hostile to each other. Paul says that Jesus putting hostility to death by his cross. But it just feels like hostility is putting us to death.

So here’s the good news. Jesus knows it too. He knows what we’re doing to each other. And he knows that the only way to kill the problem is to reconcile us to God. Because if we’re reconciled to God then we will be reconciled to each other. That’s how it works, because that’s how we were designed by God to live – mutually dependent, in community with each other. One new humanity. That’s what Jesus really believes about us. And he believes it so much that he’s willing to give everything to make it happen, even his own life. So Jesus takes the weight and the pain of our hostility and divisiveness upon his own body. And he carries it to the cross, to suffer and die, because that’s what it does. Except then Jesus is raised, after three days, in the glory of his resurrection. Because he’s not done with us yet.

So he fills us with his Holy Spirit, to give us real faith. The kind of faith that trusts God our Father above all human authority. Above powers and principalities. Because God is the source of our peace. No one else. And that’s when we learn what true peace actually is. It’s doesn’t come from outside. It doesn’t come from authority or force. True peace only comes from inside of us, from hearts filled with compassion and love. Hearts that see strangers and aliens the way that Jesus sees us, as equal children of God. That’s why Paul says, “he has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity, thus making peace.” Because we’re dying to be reconciled to each other, and there’s not a single law that can do that.

Though we do care about laws. We care about justice. We care about the wellbeing of the marginalized and the least of us. Because that’s the only way we thrive together in community, and God always gets what God wants. So, maybe we speak truth to power. Maybe we befriend the strangers and aliens among us. Maybe we learn how to stop talking and really listen to folks who never get heard. Maybe words of forgiveness and mercy start coming out of our mouths just so there really would be forgiveness and mercy in the world. Because this really is the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, and the stone the builders rejected has made himself our cornerstone. Thanks be to God.