Syracuse, New York
June 15, 1997

P IrFy
Matthew 16: 13-20
Ephesians 4: 1-6

John M. Buchanan
Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church, Chicago, Hlinois

On the Sunday after I was ordained, June 1963, I was invited to preach in my home church, the
Broad Avenue Presbyterian Church in Altoona, Pennsylvania.

I chose for my text the portion of scripture I had been assigned for my senior thesis, the most
ambitious academic project I had ever tackled, or have ever since. My professor and thesis
advisor was Marcus Barth. I waded through everything anyone ever wrote about that text in
antiquity and modernity. I knew the passage in Greek as I have not known anything in Greek

since. I explored the text from every perspective — linguistically, theologically, historically,
socially, politically.

The text was Matthew 16:13-20, and what I did for that unsuspecting congregation, of course,
was take my thesis, bristling with footnotes and scholarly citations and turn it into a sermon.

Fortunately, grace abounds. Everybody seemed pleased. I had not said anything heretical,
insofar as anybody knew. I had used a lot of fancy new words, but the church would survive.
My old junior high teacher, Magdalene Bair, who used to fill me with fear and trembling, shook
my hand and said, “I see you are still talking too fast — and too much!”

There was a festive lunch in our home and afterward my parents and I were alone, finishing up
our coffee and my father said one of the most important things anyone has ever said tome. He
said, “You told us what everybody in history thought (about Jesus’ question — ‘who do you say

that I am?). Next time you preach on that text,” Dad said, “save some time at the end for what
you think.”

He was right, of course. What you and I think and believe about Jesus of Nazareth is the
question. Our belief in him, our trust in him, our commitment to follow him, our obedience to
him is what allows us to call ourselves Christians.

The church’s affirmation of his Lordship is at the heart of our identity. Jesus Christ is what we
are about. Jesus Christ is our truth, our peace; Jesus Christ is all we have to offer one another
and the world. Jesus Christ matters, above all else.

I still love that text. I still love that moment when Peter, out of the blue, says, “You are the
Christ, the Son of the Living God.”

In my sermon, I focused on that: Jesus’ question; Peter’s answer. And so, over the centuries we
have focused on our Christology ~ what the church believes about Jesus Christ.

But there is a second part to that important text. It does not get nearly as much attention,
particularly in Protestant preaching and scholarship. In fact, a lot of that scholarship argues that
the second part of the text must have been added later by church bureaucrats interested in
justifying their own existence. There they were, church bureaucrats, leaning over the shoulder of

the scribes copying the text, whispering in their ears, “Say, when you get a chance, put something
in there about us.”

“Who do you say that I am?”
“You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”

“Blessed are you Peter, On this rock I will build my church and the
gates of Hades will not prevail against it.”

My, we wish that weren’t in there. We Protestants are uncomfortable with what the Roman
Catholic tradition has done with Peter and the keys of the kingdom. And so, we have not spent
nearly as much energy on the second part. We are far more interested in Christology than
Ecclesiology. When the great creeds have us say, “I believe in the Holy Catholic Church,” we

say it, of course, but I do believe Presbyterians, generally, cross their fingers when we come to
that phrase.

Believe in the church? Believe in the church as a basic item of personal faith? Christology
moving smoothly to Ecclesiology? For most of us, that’s quite a letdown.

Annie Dillard says it for most of us. Dillard produced an essay on the Gospel of Luke ina
volume of contemporary writers on the New Testament and about the end of Luke, she says:

“The skies have scarcely closed around Christ’s heels when the story concludes on
the disciples. What a pity, that so hard on the heels of Christ come the Christians.
There is no breather. The disciples turn into the early Christians between one
rushed verse and another. What a dismaying pity, that here come the Christians
already, flawed to the core, full of wild ideas and hurried self-importance. Who

can believe in the Christians...?” [Incarnation, Contemporary Writers on the New
Testament, p. 36/37]

Dillard is right. It is not a pretty picture from the start. The earliest Christian tradition of ail is
argument, contention, divisiveness. It’s why Paul wrote letters. In Galatia, Corinth, Philippi,
Ephesus, Christians argued about doctrine, the conduct of sacraments, leadership.

Paul tries scolding the Corinthians; tells them there is a better way to be Christian, in fact, a
better way to be human. It’s the way of love. But the older Paul becomes, the wiser and more
mature, and the more he ponders the unfathomable mystery of God’s grace in Jesus Christ ... the
bigger and broader his vision of the church becomes.

Near the end of his life, in a Roman jail cell, he writes to the church in Ephesus and now his
emphasis is focusing on the unity of that church, the reconciliation between its Jewish and
Gentile members. And, get this —the unity of that church would demonstrate to the world the

truth of what God had done in Jesus Christ and continued to do in the world through the work of
the Holy Spirit.

Is there a more passionate plea than this —

“T therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to
which you are called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with
one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the
bond of peace.” Ephesians 4:1-3

Is there a more passionate —or relevant — plea in scripture?

You see, Paul’s thought has lately taken wing. Now he believes that in Jesus Christ God has
started a new creation, a new humanity. In Christ, God — with a plan before the ages ~- intends to
heal divisions, break down walls of hostility, unite all things. Paul soars as he sits in that
miserable jail cell. “He is our peace.” he says about Jesus. God’s purpose is to bring together the
human race, tribes, nations, slaves, free, women, men.

All the scholars agree — whoever wrote this thinks that the church is supposed to show the world
what God’s new creation looks like. Marcus Barth thinks it was, indeed, Paul and in his classic
commentary on Ephesians, he says, about that wonderful admonition, “Make every effort to
maintain the unity of the Spirit”, “It is hardly possible to render exactly the urgency contained in
the underlying Greek verb. Not only haste and passion, but a full effort is meant, involving will,
sentiment, reason, physical strength. Do it now! You are to do it. I mean it!” [Ephesians, M.
Barth, Vol. If, p. 428]

Barth translated the critical phrase: “Take pains to maintain the unity of the spirit.” It is painful,
is it not? It is painful to maintain unity with people you know are wrong and obnoxious on top of
it. It is — I propose ~ a lot more difficult to maintain the unity than to walk away, to destroy it.

Now, wait a minute. Are you proposing that belief in the church is of comparable weight with
belief in Jesus Christ and, furthermore, that the church’s unity is as important as my individual
conclusions about this or that? About COCU or mission budgets, or Amendment B? That’s
exactly what I’m suggesting and I am convinced that’s exactly what the Bible says.

Barth takes it a step further and says that “God’s oneness is related directly, causatively,
dynamically, effectively, to the unity of the church. Because God is one, God’s people are one

and are to live in recognition of unity.” [p. 465]

I love this church of ours and the Reformed tradition that lies behind it. But I do believe it is
time for us to repent, to confess that we have not heard God’s summons to unity and
reconciliation as clearly as we should.

In the recent issue of Reformed World, Lukas Vischer points out that Reformed churches do not
have a particularly good record when it comes to unity, “There is,” he observed, “hardly a
country where several Reformed churches do not exist side by side.” Eighty-eight Presbyterian
denominations in Korea, for example. I’ve seen it — in Brazil, Chile, -- here in the U.S.A...
Vischer makes this helpful observation: “Reformed churches constantly succumb to the
temptation to solve their internal tensions and disagreements by splitting up.” [Mission in Unity,
Reformed World, April 1997, p. 33}

One of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets, the late Phyllis McGinly is “How to Start
a War.”

“Said Zwingi to Muntzer ...” [Zwingli and Muntzer were two 16" Century
leaders of the Protestant Reformation who disagreed vigorously on the mode of
baptism, sprinkling — Zwingli, or total immersion — Muntzer.]

“Said Zwingli to Muntzer
‘TH have to be blunt, sir,
I don’t like your version
of Total Immersion.

And since God’s on my side
And I’m on the dry side,
You'd better swing ovah

To me and Jehovah’

Cried Muntzer, ‘It’s schism,
Is infant Baptism!

Since I’ve had a sign, sir,
That God’s will is mine, sir,
Let all men agree

With Jehovah and me,

Or go to Hell, singly,’

Said Muntzer to Zwingli,

As each drew his sword
On the side of the Lord.”

[Phyllis McGinley, Times Three, Selected Verse, New York, The Viking Press, 1960, p.
28}

Just a few weeks ago, I was being interviewed by a reporter from one of the major weekly news
magazines about Amendment B. After trying everything he could think of to get me to say I
thought our church was about to split, he finally said, with a little exasperation, “Look I’ve
talked to both sides. I know what they’re saying about each other. You’re already two churches.

So why don’t you just call a meeting, hire a good lawyer, get a divorce, split up the property and
move on?”

Bruce Bawer said the same thing in a New York Times Op Ed column on April 5: “American
Protestantism is in the midst of a major shift. It is being split into two nearly antithetical
religions, both calling themselves Christianity.” The battle in the Presbyterian Church, he said,
shows that we are already two churches: “a church of law and a church of love.” And I was
reminded of how many times this year Presbyterians have said to me and written to me long and
passionate and sad letters saying, “I have to leave. I cannot stay any longer.” I thought about
how many people on one side said, “This is a deal breaker, a boundary issue. If this doesn’t pass,
I’m outa here.” And how many now are saying, “I quit, this is it.”

Does it matter? Does the unity of the church matter as much as my conscience, my convictions,
my opinions which I increasingly believe are God’s opinions as well? Yes, it matters. It matters
because Paul was right — whether we like it or not — the church shows the world what God’s new
creation looks like. And if what we show the world is a fractured, broken fragmented mess, that,
I believe, is a major failure, a very serious sin.

Beverly Gaventa says this lection should be painful reading for contemporary Christians. “The
unity of the church is for its mission and its evangelical credulity.” [Texts for Preaching, Year B,
1993]

Our unity is for our evangelical credibility. It doesn’t take much experience with our Worldwide
Ministries Division to understand the truth of that.

The Presbyterian Churches in Brazil, divided by theology, are moving deliberately closer to one
another because they face an evangelical opportunity of enormous dimensions. And they will be
more effective when they are one church again.

What is transpiring between Reformed and Lutheran churches here at this General Assembly is
important for evangelical reasons.

Where Christianity conftonts Islam, our unity is absolutely essential. Nothing ends the dialogue

quicker, nothing, I am told, discredits the Gospel more effectively than bickering between
Christians.

Peter Kuzmic is the President of Evangelical Seminary in Osijek, Croatia, where Presbyterian
Church (U.S.A.) mission workers Steve and Michele Kurtz are on the faculty. Peter, who is a
Calvinist Pentecostal and one of the leading Missiologists in the world, teaches that missionary
effectiveness depends on authenticity and that there is no authenticity in mission that does not
reflect not only Christian unity, but that deeper, magnificent new creation, new humanity St. Paul

talked about.

One of Peter’s colleagues is a delightful Croatian of Serbian descent, Antol Bolag. Antol was a
businessman who decided to give his life to Jesus Christ and now is managing refugee

resettlement, sponsored by the Agape Project, which is supported generously by the Presbyterian
Church (U.S.A.) and One Great Hour of Sharing.

Antol is in charge of rebuilding villages that have been destroyed in the war and resettling
refugees. He was working with the mayor — village chief, of a Muslim village that was totally
destroyed. Antol was bringing together the materials and resources to rebuild the village, a house
at atime. Looking at the plans with the Muslim chief, he noticed that the village Mosque was
not on the drawing and he inquired about it. His Muslim colleague was surprised. “You're a
Christian, aren't you? You want to convert us. Why are Christians willing to help us rebuild our
Mosque?” And Antol Bolag said, “We will help you rebuild your Mosque because we are
followers of Jesus, and Jesus told us to love our neighbors, to stand with them. And Jesus told a

stoty one time about a Good Samaritan who helped his neighbor without asking him about his
theology.”

That’s authenticity. That’s evangelism and faithfulness. That’s what St. Paul meant I believe,
about God’s new humanity. .

Unity is for mission. In our oneness the world sees something of God’s new creation.

The late Joseph Cardinal Bernardin’s death was an extraordinary event in the life of my city of
Chicago. Bernardin’s public witness focused on unity — with the Jewish community, with
Muslims and Buddhists. His Common Ground initiative was based on the simple premise that
Catholics belong to one another in Jesus Christ at a level deeper than their individual opinion and
convictions about abortion, women’s ordination or homosexuality. People knew that about him
and when he died he had arranged for people like me and the Methodist and Episcopal Bishops
and Rabbi Schaalman to be on the chancel during his funeral mass. People. were fascinated. The

whole city stopped in its tracks. Never had Christianity seemed so relevant and winsome, and
true.

So what if the Presbyterian Church of ours saw this moment in our long history — our history of
contention leading to regular divisions — what if we saw it as a God-given opportunity to make
our witness? What if we decided that we have — precisely because the world, for better or worse,
is watching us on this issue, watching to see how bad it gets — what if we decided that we have a
God-given opportunity to say a word about Jesus Christ — by our unity, by our determined effort
to maintain the unity of the Spirit? What if, instead of backing away from one another, we
listened carefully to St. Paul’s passionate plea — to make every effort, take every pain, leave no
stone untumed, spare no effort to maintain the unity?

I think the world might find truth in that and reconciliation and hope.

We come to table this moming, the table of communion. The sacrament is a sign of our oneness

6

— even when we do not know it or want it. It is a sign this morning of the oneness Jesus Christ
gives to the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) ~ all of t— the Presbyterian Lay Committee and
Semper Reformada, PFR & PLGC, The Witherspoon Society, Voices of Sophia, Elders at
Prayer, The Coalition, Presbyterians Pro-Life and PARO. It is a holy communion because none
of us earned our way onto the invitation list. Someone noted recently, we don’t get to invite
people to this table. God does. Nor do we get to exclude any God invites. Our business 1s our
own table manners.

Ina novel, The Clowns of God, Morris West portrays the return of Christ in which he holds a Down
Syndrome child, serving her the bread and wine of communion, saying,

“T gave this mite a gift I denied to ail of you — eternal innocence. She will never
offend me as all of you have done. She will never pervert or destroy the works of
my father’s hands. She is necessary to you. She will evoke the kindness that will
keep you human. She will remind you every day that “I AM WHO I AM.”
{Diane M. Komp, Theology Today, Hearts Untroubled, Vol. 45, p. 273-279)

John Calvin was not hesitant to speak his mind, nor was he particularly easy to get along with in
academic, theological debate. But he did understand the evangelical importance of our oneness.
“T would cross seven oceans,” he wrote, “to advance the cause of Christian unity.”

And attributed to him are, I think, some of the loveliest words ever written and most important.
They are in the fourth verse of the hymn with which we began. May they be our prayer.

“Thou hast the true and perfect gentleness
No harshness hast thou and no bitterness
O grant to us the grace we find in thee
That we may dwell in perfect unity.

Amen