Where Two or Three are Gathered - Matthew 18: 15-20

In the early days of my discernment for ordination, I was lucky to be surrounded and supported by a cohort of strong and inspiring women. I have enough stories from these women to illustrate a lifetime’s worth of sermons, but today’s Gospel passage always reminds me of a particular favorite. This story is about two wonderful women who mean a great deal to me. We’ll call them Susan and Clare. Susan is gentle and thoughtful and wise. Clare was passionate and assertive and determined. Beyond their love of their church community, they didn’t have very much in common. So, while they loved each other very much, their relationship was not without its struggles.

One Sunday, as I served behind the altar, I noticed Susan yawning profusely throughout the service. After church, I asked if she was feeling all right and her face immediately turned red. She said, “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t sleep much last night. I was so mad at Clare and I knew I had to sort things out with her before we knelt at the communion rail together this morning. So I went over there, and we stayed up too late talking.”

I don't remember how I responded, likely because I was so stunned. I was amazed that these two women had the courage to talk about their problems face to face, when so many of us prefer texts or emails, or to simply ignore problems altogether. And I was amazed at the way they connected their relationship outside of church with what happens during the Eucharist. They knew they had lost sight of their common life as children of God.

I think that the author of Matthew’s Gospel would have loved this story. I think he would have valued the intentional, methodical conflict resolution. Matthew’s Gospel is filled with systems of rules and methods for functioning as a community. It zeroes in on Jesus’ teachings about how the Messianic community, the community of the Kingdom, should live together.

Looking back in Matthew, after the stories about Jesus’ birth, baptism, and gathering of disciples, the narrative jumps right into the Sermon on the Mount. Before any parables or healings, we get three whole chapters on how to live with each other, with instructions on topics like anger, keeping promises, almsgiving, and prayer, just to name a few. As Episcopalians, we can identify with Matthew’s vision of a community guided by prescribed behaviors. We’re a sacramental people. Even in the midst of a pandemic, we gather every week to do the same rituals and say the same words.

In today’s passage from Matthew, the final adage “where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them,” is a familiar phrase, though often taken out of context. We typically hear it as an encouragement to keep the faith, even if our community of faith is small. But when considered as part of this set of instructions about conflict resolution, it takes on a whole new meaning. Christ knows that we will struggle to follow the instructions he’s given us about how to live together, so he’s letting us know that conflict resolution and reconciliation are also holy.

Here at Christ Church, we are responding to the fear, division, and oppression that has permeated out society in recent months, by embracing holy reconciliation. And as always, our Lectionary provides us with just the Scripture we need to hear and meditate on. So what does Jesus have to say to us today about fear, division, and oppression in the Kingdom?

For starters, Jesus does not have much to say about national political disagreements. Remember his quip about rendering unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar? No, Jesus is much more concerned about reconciliation in relationships between individuals. He knows that nations will not be at peace with one another until individuals can learn to love their neighbors.

So what do we do when we don’t understand our neighbor? When we disagree with them? When we hurt them, or are hurt by them? According to Jesus, we have to talk to them. And I think it’s safe to assume that Jesus doesn’t mean talking at them. He means a true conversation: sharing, listening, giving the benefit of the doubt, really trying to understand one another.

Of course, this is no small task, and not everyone is a gifted communicator. Jesus knows this, and he knows that sometimes we’ll need a third party, a mediator, someone to help diffuse tension and hold both parties accountable. Many couples who have utilized the skills of a therapist can attest to gift of the outsider’s perspective.

But Jesus also knows that some problems will be bigger than our human weakness can overcome. In these cases, he says, we’ll need our Church. Turning to the Church for guidance in relationships can take on many forms, from participating in the Confession on Sunday morning, to seeking the counsel of a spiritual leader, to mutual spiritual reflection, which my friends Susan and Clare modeled so well.

Finally, Jesus acknowledges that loving one’s neighbor cannot always mean being in close relationship with them. We will not get along with everyone we meet, and we cannot be emotionally enmeshed with every person we know. Recognizing this, and letting go of relationships that have exhausted every other avenue, with kindness, and without any hatred or bitterness, can be its own form of reconciliation.

All of these scenarios, every form of reconciliation, no matter how trivial it may seem to us, is filled with the Holy Spirit. From a war-ending peace treaty to two or three people coming to an understanding, God is in the midst of reconciliation.

My friends, not a single one of us is without need of some sort of reconciliation. The upcoming election, our varying experiences of systemic racism, and of course, the pandemic, have all left us physically and spiritually divided from our friends and family. As Jesus knew we would be, we are in need of today’s refresher on conflict resolution in the Kingdom. A reminder to focus on relationships, utilize unbiased perspectives, when in doubt, turn to your Church family, and remember that letting go can be an act of love.

My sweet friends Susan and Clare were able to remember that God doesn’t call us to be on the right side of every argument, but to care for the person in front of us as Christ has cared for us. And they taught me that reconciliation is not without pain. It requires tenacity, creativity, and perhaps a few yawns on a Sunday morning. But it is holy, and it is what we are called to as members of the Kingdom. Amen.