Ignoring Elephants

The Spirit told me to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us [Acts 11:12a, NRSV].

There was an elephant in the living room, and it simply couldn’t be ignored. It had been some time since the authorities at First Church (Jerusalem) had heard from Peter. Everyone knew that he was impetuous, sometimes reacting without thinking, but reliable word had come back to James and the others in leadership positions within the Jerusalem church that Peter had overstepped his authority, that while he was out in the field, so to speak, he had baptized a few Gentiles and worse, he had entered several Gentile households and eaten with them. Something had to be done about the Gentiles.

As you know, in Jerusalem, initially at least, virtually all the early followers of “The Way” were Jewish. They tended to view themselves essentially as a subset of Judaism. To be sure, the believers understood that many Jewish leaders like Saul thought they were heretics—the Jewish leaders had stoned Stephen for his alleged blasphemy, with Saul’s cooperation and approval—but the believers didn’t see things that way. Most thought of themselves as devout Jews who believed that Jesus was the Messiah. And devout Jews didn’t eat with Gentiles.

Unfortunately for the Jerusalem crowd, while Peter was away from the home church there, he began to see things differently. In the verses that precede the first reading for this upcoming Sunday [Acts 11:1-18 (Fifth Sunday of Easter, RCL, Year C)], Peter’s world has once again been turned upside down. Peter hears, via the Holy Spirit, that he must go to Cornelius’ house. Cornelius, a devout and “God-fearing” man [Acts 10:2—that’s the code word for a Gentile who has come to believe in Yahweh], desires a pastoral call from the one who would later become the first bishop of Rome.

Understand that a pious man like Peter can’t just cross the threshold of a Gentle; never mind he’s a God-fearer. After all, there are boundaries to be respected. The Jerusalem church hasn’t given the go-ahead when it comes to accepting Gentile members. You understand the delicate issues involved. The Session needs to meet. There’s the required paperwork and the communicant’s class. There is the necessary examination into Cornelius’ faith.

Oh, and lest we forget the icky stuff, there’s the question as to whether Cornelius will need to be circumcised. Moreover, what do Cornelius and his crowd eat for Sunday lunch? They don’t like shrimp or pork, do they? Again, may we stress that there are barriers to be maintained. Everyone must stay within their own little box. For the leaders in Jerusalem, there are just a lot of things to consider.

Only, Yahweh isn’t waiting on the church in Jerusalem. Yahweh’s gift of His only begotten Son isn’t limited to those who draw clear distinctions between themselves and others. Yahweh, through the Holy Spirit, tells Peter that when it comes to food, Yahweh didn’t make anything unclean [Acts 10:15b]. By the time we get to the next chapter of Acts, the chapter that contains this week’s reading, Peter, who’s not always quick on the draw, has come to the conclusion that if Yahweh didn’t make anything unclean when it comes to food, Yahweh likely didn’t make anybody unclean when it comes to humanity. Can we see that the decision to pull down barriers was not for Peter and the church to make; it had already been made by the Holy Spirit.

Upon his return to the Jerusalem church, Peter stresses to the officials that the Holy Spirit told him to go to Cornelius and the other Gentiles “and not to make a distinction between them and us” [Acts 11:12], and that’s what Peter had obediently done. Note the power of Peter’s statement to the church:

So if God gave them the same gift he gave us who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I to think that I could stand in God’s way? [Acts 11:17].

Note also the church’s response: When the Jerusalem officials heard this, they had no further objections [Acts 11:18].

Making distinctions within our so-called “modern” secular world isn’t usually bridled, of course, by worries about the Holy Spirit. Society makes distinctions between “them and us” as a matter of habit. It seems to know no other way. Right now, for example, Congress is debating whether to make a distinction between, on the one hand, those who borrowed heavily—and unwisely—to finance college degrees that are virtually worthless and, on the other hand, those who didn’t or couldn’t go to college, but who perhaps got technical training and then borrowed some funds to secure tools of their trade. In this second category of people for whom a distinction has been drawn are those who didn’t need to borrow at all because they attended much less expensive state schools. So, drawing distinctions between the various groups, if you borrowed $200K to get your anthropology degree from Bowdoin, you’ll be covered. Not so much if you borrowed $10K for a second-hand pickup truck and some welding tools.

Our secular nation makes distinctions between those who follow the rules and immigrate to our country in the manner prescribed by law, and those who chose to enter via other methods and means. It distinguishes, on the one hand, between children whose parents have the means and/or flexibility to garner the supervisory resources necessary for their children to flourish in stay-at-home school and, on the other hand, those other children, whose often spouseless mothers must work outside the home—their low-paying jobs cannot be performed remotely. The mothers of this second group of children must hope and pray their own children won’t fall even further behind in a world in which the deck is already stacked against them. The deck is stacked against them because, as I’ve already stressed, the world likes to draw distinctions between groups of people.

Our secular society listens to old recordings of the stirring, inspiring dreams of modern prophets, prophets who longed for a day in which children would be judged by the content of their character, not by the color of their skin. With the echoes of those words still in their ears, our society makes all sorts of distinctions between those children based on skin color.

And, unfortunately, within the sacred world, particularly the sacred world that is represented by the mainline Protestant denominations (hereinafter “mainline churches”)—most notably the United Methodist Church and the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)—within which I have spent my entire life, many careful distinctions are made between “us and them.”

For example, during the past 49 years, within many mainline churches, there’s been an elephant in the living room. Many have hoped it could be ignored. Yet now, with the turbulent news of this past ten days before us, the elephant has roused itself a bit. It’s shifting its position within our environment. It’s stretching its legs and its snout, and the elephant may no longer be avoided.

The question we face, i.e., the elephant in the living room: Since the Supreme Court’s decision in Roe v. Wade, in January 1973, the mainline church has, without any biblical authority, drawn a distinction between the “not-yet-born” and the rest of us. To borrow Peter’s words, it is a distinction “between them and us.” It’s a distinction between those of us who have traveled through a birth canal or been pulled through a Caesarian incision, and those who have not (yet) done so. One of several other questions: “When did the Holy Spirit cede that important distinction to our determination?

Since 1973, the mainline churches have echoed the secular mantra offered by society: that we are, after all, only talking about reproductive rights. No, I would argue that we’re talking about distinctions to be drawn between us and them. The mainline churches have listened to secular explanations about barriers and dividing lines. We have succumbed to the hypnosis of “viability,” we’ve swallowed whole the argument of the secular world that a distinction can be drawn between those in the womb who are “viable” and those who are not.

The mainline churches have nodded approvingly at the notion that it’s ok to end the life of someone who is helpless; let’s just not do it if they might stand a chance on their own. And yet, what does our Faith teach? It teaches that none of us can/should live “on our own.” We are all tied together, and we’re all owned by God. God, via Holy Spirit, makes decisions about life and death; it is not for us to presume that sort of wisdom.

Many within the mainline churches have swallowed the secular argument that distinctions can be drawn in this discussion between men and women, that the only persons who can speak to the moral issues involved are women. Men like me must remain silent on the issue, some say. It is interesting to note, however, that the church didn’t take that same position 150 years ago when slavery was being opposed by persons who owned no slaves, owned no plantations, and shared no skin color with the oppressed masses whose freedom those nineteenth century Christians sought. Of course, 150 years ago, mainline churches largely opposed slavery; they don’t oppose abortion.

The mainline churches want to draw distinctions between them and us by saying, on the one hand, that we are all joined together in Christ, that we are all dependent upon one another, that the joinder of persons together with each other—and in turn with Christ—is the most sacred, the most pure, the most Godlike relationship possible and then, on the other hand say that a child not-yet-born, who shares the most intimate human relationship with her mother, is outside that Holy bond. As long as the unborn is helpless, we are free to dispatch her at our whim. And yet, when it comes to Holy blessings, to paraphrase our brother Peter, “Who are we that we think we can stand in God’s way?

The mainline churches draw a distinction between so-called desired, normal pregnancies and those that they label “problem pregnancies,” arguing that the latter may be terminated where various factors exist—e.g., the mother’s age (very old or very young), poverty of the mother, unsuccessful use of contraceptives.

The irony is that Mary’s pregnancy with our Lord, Elizabeth’s with John the Baptizer, Sarah’s with Isaac, Hannah’s with Samuel, to name just a few, would have all been considered “problem pregnancies” by mainline churches. When Elizabeth looked at Mary, the child within her did not react to “a problem;” the one who would later be John the Baptizer leaped with joy within his mother’s womb. Indeed, where would the Jewish and Christian Faiths be without problem pregnancies?

Finally, although I could go on for quite a while, when it comes to the elephant in the living room, the mainline churches draw a distinction between those whom we view as neighbors and those who—because they are not yet born—apparently deserve some other, unprotected, less sacred label. When did the Holy Spirit instruct us to draw a distinction between ourselves and the child being knitted together in his or her mother’s womb, the child whose “inmost being” is currently being formed by God [Psalm 139:13-14]?