July 19, 2009 | 8:00 a.m.

The Dividing Wall

Joann H. Lee
Pastoral Resident, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 89:20–37
Ephesians 2:11–22

To be reconciled to God is to be sent into the world as [God’s] reconciling community. This community, the church universal, is entrusted with God’s message of reconciliation and shares [God’s] labor of healing the enmities which separate men [and women] from God and from each other. Christ has called the church to this mission.

The Confession of 1967
Presbyterian Church (USA)

About a week ago, I was in Belfast, on the much-anticipated Senior Highs mission trip to Northern Ireland. Thirty-two high school students and twelve adult leaders from this congregation spent ten days abroad, in a foreign context, building relationships, working on some service projects, and learning about division, peace, and reconciliation.

Belfast, where we spent the majority of our time, is a deeply divided city. These divisions usually fall along political and cultural divides that happen to also be split between the religious lines of Catholic and Protestant. For example, Catholics usually align themselves with the Nationalist political party, which means they want Northern Ireland to be a part of the Republic of Ireland. They also often celebrate the culture and heritage native to Ireland. Conversely, Protestants mostly align themselves with the Unionist political party, which means they want to remain a part of the United Kingdom, and they tend to be more culturally tied to Great Britain.

The newspapers you read, the sports you play, the soccer team you favor, the neighborhood you live in, the school you attend: all these things are clues into which side of the divide you align yourself with.

Many people have been killed or injured in the name of these divisions. For Northern Ireland, violence erupted in the late 1960s and ’70s, in a time period referred to as the Troubles. Many people lost their lives during this turbulent time, and those who survived did so with a different kind of loss. In 1998, both sides more or less agreed to a ceasefire, and today, the challenge for Northern Ireland is to continue the work of peace and to seek reconciliation.

I had heard all this before we left for Northern Ireland. I knew that our goal was to learn about peace and reconciliation in the Northern Ireland context, so that we could translate that learning into our own context here in Chicago. But I left Chicago with a lot of questions. I wondered, So what does peace really look like? Is it simply the absence of violence? And if peace and reconciliation are the goals, how do you know when you’ve reached that goal? Do you ever get there, or is it an ongoing process that never ends? And what are the markers by which you measure your progress?

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I didn’t really understand this word, this concept called “reconciliation.” I liked the word, I liked the idea of it, and I knew I supported efforts towards it, but what did it mean? What did it look like, feel like? Would I recognize it if I saw it? I wasn’t so sure.

During our time in Belfast, our group met people and groups who are on the ground working towards this goal of reconciliation. But we also witnessed how difficult it can be to reach that goal.

Our first few days in Belfast, we took a walking tour and a bus tour of the city led by Doug Baker, a mission co-worker of the Presbyterian Church (USA). One of the things that struck me were the huge walls separating one neighborhood from another. They’re called “peace walls,” which is ironic, because these walls point to the lack of true peace, true shalom in this society, but quite fitting in that the presence of these walls is seen to “keep the peace.” They decrease the possibility of violence. In Belfast, “dividing walls” literally and visibly separate the city.

One of our young people asked Conor Maskey, who’s a young member of the Belfast City Council, if there were any plans to break down these dividing walls, if there was a plan within the city council or among politicians or leaders in Northern Ireland to get rid of these visible signs of division. And I really love his response. He said that the decision to break down these walls is not for politicians or for the city council to make. Getting rid of these peace walls is the long-term goal, of course. The hope is that one day they’ll no longer be needed.

But when that happens can’t be the decision of people in power but of those who live closest to the walls. Until they feel safe with the neighbor on the other side of the wall, those walls will remain, because those closest to it are the ones who are the most affected.

That’s when I realized that reconciliation is not just some word that gives you the warm fuzzies. It’s not just some elusive yet admirable goal. It’s not even an abstract theory or concept.

Reconciliation is about people: people who are scared; people who are divided by the walls in their cities and the walls in their hearts; people who’ve been hurt; and people who, perhaps for the first time, are learning to recognize the common humanity in us all.

Reconciliation is about people. It’s personal and close to our hearts. It involves the things we hold most dear, and quite frankly, it’s a risk. After all, it’s the dividing walls we have around our own hearts that are the hardest to break down.

Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, wrote to another kind of divided society. The Jews and Gentiles were separated by culture, ethnicity, religious practices and beliefs. And yet in this new Christian community in Ephesus, they were brought together through their newfound belief in Jesus, the Christ. How were these two divided communities to live together as one?

Paul encourages this community to break down their dividing walls of who’s in and who’s out, of who’s near to God and who’s far from God, of who’s circumcised and who’s not circumcised. Put those things aside, he says. Paul’s hope for Ephesus is that through Christ, who is our peace, these two divided groups will be reconciled to God and to one another, becoming one new humanity. In verse 19 Paul writes, “You are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God.”

You are no longer strangers . . . Just like it’s easier to judge a book by its cover than to actually read it, it’s easier to harbor animosity towards a complete stranger than someone you actually know. It’s easier to make assumptions about someone than to really get to know them. It’s easier to stay divided when you know nothing about those from whom you’re separated.

This is certainly true in Belfast. We met one man named Joe, who had never met a Protestant until he was eighteen years old, yet hated them more than anything, all based on what he’d heard and had been told. His grandfather and his best friend’s father had been murdered by sectarian violence, by Protestants, and these experiences ingrained his hate even more. And there are millions of stories like that, from both sides.

When you don’t know anyone from the other side, when you don’t go to school with them, don’t go to church with them, don’t live in the same neighborhoods or play the same sports, when the other is a faceless, nameless force standing against you, “they” become less than human; “they” become an object of hate and derision rather than a human being, a child of God, a member of the same household.

It seems that Paul, in Ephesians, understands that dividing walls are broken down by living in and learning from a diverse community, by getting to actually know the “other,” by building relationships and learning to love not only our neighbors but also those whom we consider our enemies.

Paul understands that reconciliation is relational. Reconciliation happens face to face, person by person. It happens when we are no longer strangers.

Every group and person we met in Belfast who works towards reconciliation does so by bringing people together, by bringing people who would have normally never met, never gotten to know each other, never become friends—by bringing those people from both sides of the dividing wall together and then providing them a safe space to talk, to share stories, to laugh, to cry, to play soccer, and to share in their common humanity.

That man I told you about in Belfast, Joe, who hated Protestants without having ever met one? Well, he was connected to a program called Youth Link. And there, at age eighteen, he met his first Protestant. As he shared his anger, frustration, and pain, he heard the same anger, frustration, and pain reflected by those from the other side, and the dividing wall began to crumble. Joe recognized how much he shared with the people he had once hated. Strangers became friends, and the hard journey towards reconciliation began.

And that’s what I witnessed, what we as a group witnessed. In fact, the very place where we stayed, the 174 Trust, is a space where young people can meet other young people from the other side of the dividing wall. And Doug Baker, our gracious host, works as a bridge builder in Belfast, bearing witness to the goodness of those on both sides of the dividing wall. He recently introduced a pastor from a Catholic parish to a pastor from a Presbyterian church, and there is great hope that the two communities will work together.

For us, here in the States, we know that there are dividing walls that separate people in our own society. The Confession of 1967, written by Presbyterians in, well, you guessed it, 1967, focuses on reconciliation. It is built around a single passage of Scripture, 1 Corinthians 5:19: “In Christ, God was reconciling the world to God’s self.”

It names the church’s role—our role—in the modern world as one of reconciliation, because its writers saw the great brokenness and the great divisions that separated our country when the confession was written. Among those that were particularly urgent in that time were racism, nationalistic arrogance, and economic injustice and enslaving poverty.

Today, these barriers are still prominent. The dividing wall between races, nations, and socioeconomic classes stands strong. It may not be made of concrete or bricks, but it is just as real and just as tangible. In fact, along the U.S. and Mexico border, it’s becoming more and more of an actual wall that divides these two countries.

And our own city of Chicago is divided. It is one of the most racially segregated cities in our country. Distinct streets mark the beginning and end of distinct neighborhoods. No walls, but we all kind of know, don’t we? The few, rare neighborhoods that are racially and ethnically diverse certainly aren’t economically diverse.

So what does it mean for Christ to make these groups one, to break down the dividing wall, the dividing walls? Well, reconciliation is about people. It’s turning people who were once strangers into members of the same household.

And the church’s role in our society is to be an agent of reconciliation, to help break down that the dividing wall, to bring people together. We don’t always do it well, or at all, but it is certainly our call.

Here at Fourth Church, our interfaith relationships with the Downtown Islamic Center, Holy Name Cathedral, and Chicago Sinai Congregation bring people together from across the faith divide. We meet the religious other and see our shared and common humanity.

And our Chicago Avenue Community Garden brings people together from across neighborhoods: while located in Cabrini-Green, it draws together gardeners and picnickers from the Gold Coast, Old Town, Uptown, Cabrini, Lincoln Park, and even the suburbs.

And here, in this sanctuary, are gathered people from both sides of every dividing wall. We come from different economic standings, racial-ethnic backgrounds, political parties, and neighborhoods. And yet we have all come together in this place.

In a few moments, we will be invited to the Table, where we will share in the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. At this Table, no matter what differences we bring, we are all guests, his guests, and each and every one of us is a valued guest. As you stand and come forward, take note of the people around you, standing in line next to you and in front of you. We are all members of the household of God; we are no longer strangers, but family, united in Christ. We may not know everyone’s name, but we know to whom everyone belongs.

And as you partake of this meal, also remember, this is not Fourth Church’s Table or the PCUSA’s table; it is the Lord’s Table. And as such, we are also united with believers in every time and place who’ve shared in this one bread and one cup. In this moment, we commune with brothers and sisters in Northern Ireland, in Israel/Palestine, in Iraq and Afghanistan, in Guatemala and Cuba, Pilsen and Hyde Park. As we partake of these common elements of bread and wine, we commune with all the faithful, and we bear witness to Jesus Christ who has broken down the dividing wall. Praise be to God. Amen.