July 18, 2010 | 4:00 p.m.
John W. Vest
Pastoral Resident, Fourth Presbyterian Church
2 Corinthians 5:16–21
In 2004, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA) took action that began the process of phased selective divestment of church funds from companies that profit from the Middle East conflict between Israel and the Palestinian people. Among the companies included on this short list were Motorola and Caterpillar. The basic premise of this action was both simple and consistent with longstanding Presbyterian practice: as a denomination, we do not invest our money in companies that profit from industries related to war, alcohol, tobacco, or other such activities. Additionally, this particular move to consider divestment was motivated by a growing frustration among Presbyterians and others that the peace process in the Middle East is being stalled and disrupted by the continuation of Israeli settlements in the West Bank, the construction of a separation wall between Israeli and Palestinian territories, and a disproportionate balance of power between Israel and the Palestinian people.
This call for divestment in 2004 ignited a firestorm of protest from Jewish organizations in both the United States and Israel, but especially among our friends and partners here in the U.S. This action was perceived by many Jews as an attack on Israel’s right to exist and its ability to defend itself from Palestinian insurgents and other threats. Here in Chicago, both our presbytery and congregations like Fourth Church were confronted by Jewish friends with deep and profound hurt and dismay. It seemed as if our attempts to promote peace and justice in the Middle East would only end up disrupting longstanding relationships with Jewish partners in Chicago and beyond. For those of us interested in preserving both of these critical endeavors, such tensions are troubling and potentially disastrous.
As you may know, Fourth Church stood out as a bold voice of moderation and balance in this issue, advocating that a better approach to divestment is a proactive approach of balanced investment in peaceful pursuits in both Israel and the Palestinian territories. At the same time, before I joined the pastoral staff here, I was involved in efforts by the Presbytery of Chicago to engage and study this issue with both Jewish and Muslim partners. For me, one of the most enduring relationships to come out of that experience was a friendship with a man named Jonathan Schwartz at the Chicago office of the American Jewish Committee.
The resolution of this story is that the PC(USA) eventually moved in a more moderate direction. Consequently, in the years since 2004 and 2005, relationships between Presbyterians and Jews have improved. The work we did back then paid off, though tensions around how we approach the Middle East always simmer below the surface.
In 2008, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA) called for the formation of a Middle East Study Committee, charged to produce a report and recommendations to be considered by the 219th General Assembly, which convened earlier this month in Minneapolis. When the Middle East Study Committee released its report earlier this year, it was immediately criticized by both Presbyterians and Jews as being unevenly biased against Israel and in favor of the Palestinians. Once again, Fourth Church responded with a voice of moderation and balance, urging the General Assembly to not adopt such a one-sided report.
In the months leading up to General Assembly, my old friend Jonathan called me up to talk about the report and where I thought the church was heading on this issue. His interest was inspired not only by our friendship, but also by the fact that I was one of the commissioners sent to the General Assembly from the Presbytery of Chicago. During our conversation, Jonathan expressed the renewed sense of pain and confusion that many Jews experienced when they read this report and considered its message and implications. As we talked and I tried to explain a more nuanced Presbyterian approach to this issue, I had something of an epiphany.
It occurred to me that one of the reasons Presbyterians are struggling with how to respond to the Middle East conflict is that we are torn between two important theological concepts: justice and reconciliation. Each of these have deep roots in both the Bible and church history. Both of them are valid and noble pursuits. But it occurred to me, and I wonder still, if there is an inherent tension between these two approaches to conflict and strife.
The Middle East Study Committee report is a good example of this tension. The way it employed the theological concept of justice is to portray one party as oppressor and the other as oppressed and to champion the cause of the oppressed. I completely understand, appreciate, and empathize with this impulse. However, it seems to me that championing one side over the other disrupts our ability to serve as agents of reconciliation. How can we be bridge builders by standing on only one side of the divide?
Make no mistake: I am all for justice. I preach it and I work for it. But the paradigm of justice employed in the original version of the report, in which one side is the oppressor and the other side is the oppressed, is insufficient and overly simple for the complexities of the situation in the Middle East.
My engagement with this issue began in 1997 and 1998, when I spent twelve full months living and studying in Jerusalem. During that time I became aware of the complex issues involved in the conflict between Israel and the Palestinian people. I attended the openly Zionist Hebrew University, yet I also ignored their warnings to not venture out into the Palestinian territories of East Jerusalem and the West Bank. During those excursions I gained a fuller appreciation of what life is like for both Israelis and Palestinians.
Over the course of those twelve seminal months of my life, there were three suicide bombings in Israeli cities, including a popular area of downtown Jerusalem. At the same time, Israeli tanks and bulldozers razed Palestinian homes to the ground. And there were other acts of violence against both peoples. Even then there were restrictions for Palestinians traveling between cities. Israelis lived with muted fear of further attacks. Whether I was protected by the false security of my Israeli hosts or as I traveled to those places Hebrew University didn’t want me to go, I witnessed firsthand the complexities of this conflict.
I love Palestinians. I love Israelis. I love Jews. I love Muslims. (Sometimes, I even love Christians.) I hate the violence and terror that both sides have perpetrated and experienced. I hate that our U.S. government is complicit in this conflict through an unbalanced support of one side.
But I don’t see how our church taking one side, even when it is the less powerful side, advances our mission of promoting the gospel, what Paul in this afternoon’s scripture reading calls the ministry and message of reconciliation.
In the end, the General Assembly achieved a beautiful thing just over a week ago. The original Middle East Study Committee report was amended to remove the most inflammatory comments and include a more balanced approach to the complex narratives that describe and define the Middle East conflict. In this way, not only are we giving voice to the multitude of experiences in the Middle East, but we are giving voice to the various and conflicting perspectives of the Presbyterian church. In the process of working through this report, the General Assembly was itself reconciled and now finds itself in a better position to be agents of reconciliation elsewhere.
The more I think about it, the more this notion of reconciliation seems to define for me our calling as followers of Jesus. There are lots of different ways that Christians understand themselves and their mission in the world. For some, Christianity is all about personal salvation and the avoidance of hell. For some, Christianity is all about social justice. For me, Christianity is becoming more and more about reconciliation.
I imagine that some of this comes from my experiences as a child. My family moved around a lot while I was growing up, but both sides of my family are from the South and I spent most of my formative childhood years in the South. As I witnessed subtle but persistent racism in my family and in the communities in which we lived, I was always amazed that most of my family had escaped the bondage of racism. I have wondered what motivated that shift and what sustains it. Yet I am keenly aware that we are still far from racial reconciliation in the United States.
When I moved to Chicago almost eleven years ago to attend seminary at the University of Chicago, I received a warning from the university that was remarkably similar to the one I received from Hebrew University two years before: there are parts of this city that are safe and there are parts of this city that you should never visit. The not-so-subtle message to us incoming students was that we should not go south of the Midway or west of Cottage Grove. To do so would put us in danger. Just as I ignored those warnings in Israel, I ignored them in Chicago—mostly in my lifelong pursuit of excellent BBQ ribs. But when I visited some of those South Side rib joints, I could tell that they did not get many customers that look like me.
I’ve been on many youth mission trips over the years. But two years ago, when our high school students went to help out in New Orleans, my thinking about mission work shifted from the bandaging of wounds to the diagnosis and treatment of underlying problems. Katrina exposed much more than poverty and need; it brought into clear focus some sharp socioeconomic and racial divides in our society. What our youth group learned in New Orleans quite naturally informed our perception of Chicago.
Likewise, when this same group of high school students traveled to Belfast, Northern Ireland, last summer, our mission was largely one of learning: learning about a deeply divided society and about efforts, especially among the young, to work toward peace and reconciliation. Again, what we learned in Belfast has quite naturally informed our perceptions of Chicago.
And it has not only informed but has deeply shaped my own understanding of the gospel, what Paul calls the ministry and message of reconciliation. What would happen if we shifted to a paradigm of reconciliation when we considered a variety of issues faced by the church?
For example, how would our approach to issues of sexuality change if our paradigm was neither justice nor righteousness but reconciliation? What if instead of protracted arguments about who is right and who is wrong, we focused instead on simply living together as flawed but reconciled sisters and brothers?
What if reconciliation, rather that apologetics or proselytism, was our paradigm for engaging people of other religions?
What if reconciliation, rather than legislation or criminal justice, was the driving force of our struggle to understand immigration?
What if reconciliation, rather than competition, was the focus of our political process?
What if a desire for reconciliation motivated our personal relationships? How could the challenges faced by our families be seen differently when viewed through the lens of reconciliation?
In so many ways, we define our lives based on the opposition of two sides. It is so easy and so tempting to view all of life this way. But what if the challenge of the gospel, the ministry and message of reconciliation, compels us to think about everything in a totally different way?
I wonder if we have imaginations big enough to go to that place, to envision bold new directions that transcend polarities and the triumph of one side over the other. I wonder what it might look like to define who we are and what we do by the ministry and message of reconciliation.
“If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to Godself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation.”
Amen.
Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church