Real People with Real Problems

Real People with Real Problems--November 8, 2017

"Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved.  I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel, together with Clement and the rest of my co-workers, whose names are in the book of life." [Philippians 4:1-3]

Sometimes, you know, in the midst of the organ music in the background and the candles around the lectern on a Sunday morning, you forget that you are reading someone else's mail here when you read the letters of the New Testament.  But little passages like this one from Philippians remind me that we Christians have made an odd habit of giving public readings of someone else's correspondence and listening for the voice of God as we eavesdrop on the conversations of saints from millennia ago.

And yet, there is something wonderfully, surprisingly, immediate and relevant revealed as we overhear this ancient conversation.  I have to tell you, I didn't always appreciate, or even much like, this odd left turn in the fourth chapter of Philippians; it always felt too... particular, too personal, too entangled with the details and disagreements of people I would never meet this side of glory.  This odd little digression about two particular women Paul knew, with the unusual-to-our-ears names "Euodia" and "Syntyche," just seems to come out of nowhere, right in the midst of Paul waxing all sentimental.  There are lots of great plaque-worthy, cross-stitch-wall-hanging-ready verses from Philippians, and then there is this very abrupt intrusion into a squabble of some kind between two women who were leaders in the church to whom Paul was writing.  Plenty of people know, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me..." and "The One who began a good work in you will be faithful to bring it to completion..." or "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice!"  Those are A-side tracks from the Philippians Greatest Hits album.  But right in the midst of it, Paul stops with his valedictory speech here, and just stops to try and persuade two women with whom he has worked and suffered and struggled in the gospel to work things out with whatever mess is going on in their lives.  These are real people with real problems, and Paul goes right into them.

It's a terrible passage to engrave on brass or frame on your wall... but it's perfect for actually living out one's faith, because it is utterly real. Paul tells the truth about the disagreement, even if we don’t know what it was about.  At one level, it doesn’t matter what it was about—these two sisters in Christ were going to have to get used to the idea that Jesus had claimed each of them, and that they were going to need to find a way to live together as part of the church, because Jesus wasn’t about to let go of either of them.  They were central enough to the congregation, and their disagreement was potentially disruptive enough, that Paul decided he had better get the ball rolling toward their reconciliation.  (Just as a sidebar, this seems to be a pretty strong indicator that women had important roles of leadership in the early church, if Paul not only takes the time to weigh in on Euodia and Syntyche’s situation, but also that he calls them “coworkers” who “struggled beside me in the work of the gospel.”)

So in one sentence, Paul names the disagreement—ridding us of any illusions that everybody always got along in the early church, or that Christians are always smiling and pleasant to one another.  But at the same time, in the very same sentence, Paul offers up the hope that these two women, who have shown before their ability to work together in a common project, can come to an agreement.  Paul is neither pure pessimist (they’ll never agree, those two!) nor wide-eye optimist (and we’ll all just naturally get along with each other because we’re all so pleasant to be around!).  He sees truthfully with two points of focus (call Paul the inventor of spiritual bifocals, if you like):  on the one hand, the reality of a broken relationship that it would have been easier just to ignore, and on the other hand, the equally true reality that Jesus is still holding onto both of these fellow sisters in Christ, and his claim makes them belong.  And that means there is the possibility that these women could find a way to forgive and be forgiven, to come to an agreement, and to live in real community with one another.  But it requires first their willingness to be real about the disagreement: they need to own the mess, rather than pretending it's all fine.

So… what does this situation have to do with us living in the twenty-first century?  Well, just substitute names of people in your own world, your own family, your own congregation, and the answer is in front of us.  We are called to enter into the mess the same way—to be honest about where we have divisions, disagreements, wounds that need to be addressed, and secrets that need to be brought out into the open.  And with that comes the other side of Paul’s realism—to take seriously and firmly the claim of Jesus that binds us to one another.

You might not have ever heard the named "Euodia" or "Syntyche" before, but you and I can be people who learn from these women who were leaders in the early church, to enter into the mess of our relationships with one another, rather than thinking it's holier to walk on eggshells all the time.

Today, be real.  Be real.  Be real.

Lord Jesus, help us to be able to talk about our disagreements rather than hiding from them, and help us to trust that you can navigate us through the messes we share.