“The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe; and I am beginning to suspect that whoever is incapable of recognizing this may be incapable of morality.”
James Baldwin wrote these words in November of 1980, but if 
he were still living, he certainly could have penned them this week in response to unfolding global violence and disaster or continued injustice. Israeli children are ours; Palestinian children are ours; Afghan children are ours; LGBTQ+ children are ours; Latinx refugee children are ours; poor and homeless children are ours. The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe.
You’d think something seemingly so pure and just and true would provide ample room for finding common ground and creating a shared way forward, but we humans still struggle to be of one accord. Even within the capital-C ecumenical church or this particular congregation, we often find ourselves wondering how in the world we do come together to move forward in faithfulness and in community.
Mercifully, this isn’t unique to this moment in world history or to us here at First Pres. In today’s text, we find ourselves with the early church community in Philippi. Paul has gotten word that there’s potentially some sort of conflict between Synthyche and Euodia. We should pause here to acknowledge that just because someone else in the church says there’s an issue, doesn’t mean there actually is; we’ve all seen how the message-passing game of telephone works to distort what begins as a clear statement into something else entirely. That being the case, we don’t really know the extent of this conflict. Maybe it’s just a matter of different views or perspectives. But in this letter, we don’t get to hear from Syntyche or Euodia; we only get Paul’s perspective. He seems to think there’s an issue that needs to be addressed and that the unnamed loyal friend to whom he writes might be able to help:
Loved ones, I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord, to come to an agreement in the Lord. Yes, and I’m also asking you, loyal friend, to help these women who have struggled together with me in the ministry of the gospel, along with Clement and the rest of my coworkers whose names are in the scroll of life.
One New Testament scholar offers us this additional insight:
In spite of their differences, Paul here encourages them to “be of the same mind in the Lord.” What does this mean? The Greek expression…is literally translated as “I encourage you to think the [same] thing.” But what is this thing that he encourages them to think? The next verse gives us a good hint. Paul describe both of them as people who “have struggled together beside” him and others like him in the work of the gospel.
Here Paul is reminding Syntyche and Euodia that of course they have differences, but that it is also important to remember their togetherness, their collectiveness, what they have in common. Their differences should not hinder them from working together for the common good. Three times Paul uses compound words that begin with syn– (together) in this text…This sense of togetherness is a way of life rather than a system of thought. It refers to an attitude that welcomes and works with others. It is no surprise, therefore, that when Paul speaks of rejoicing or gentleness in verses 4-5, he uses a plural expression—of doing these things together (Working Preacher, Ekaputra Tupamahu).
What Paul is calling these believers to is a spirituality of “us.” It is a way of being in which this divine intra-human connection, this spirit-deep “us,” is so strong that difference isn’t a source of discord. A spirituality of “us” has plenty of room for dialogue and growth because at its center is the common good of all people. It is an “us” so expansive and loving that no one is on the margins any more. But Paul makes it clear that this spirituality of “us” doesn’t mean anyone can conduct themselves anyhow they please. Hear verses 5, 8 and 9 from The Message’s paraphrase of the text:
Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that you’re on their side, working with them and not against them. Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized.
A spirituality of “us” does not mean individuals can act any way they please and expect the rest of the community to tolerate their behavior. Instead, it calls all members of a community to a way of being that is other-oriented and marked by humility and grace.
In direct contrast to that, leading up to the 2020 presidential election, I came across data from an online survey conducted by LifeWay Research of 1200 people who self-identify as evangelical in their beliefs. The results for one question in particular stood out: Who do you hope your presidential vote benefits the most?
Forty-one % said people who are like me, 20% said me and my family, and 8% people in my community or religion. While only 15% said people our country has failed and 9% said people who are different from me. For any of you keeping score at home, that’s 69% who are prioritizing themselves and only 24% who are putting others first. Remember these are self-identifying Christians…
In the analysis of the survey, Scott McConnell, executive director of Lifeway Research wrote, “Few Americans with evangelical beliefs will be casting a ‘Good Samaritan’ vote on election day. Instead most will vote to benefit those like them or their own family.”
It seems clear that such voters are missing the Philippian mark for faithful living and community building. And we must be very careful not to do the same. “We do not need a false form of ‘unity’ in which differences are disavowed or erased. What we need is to move beyond partisan politics and work together for the common good” (Working Preacher, Ekaputra Tupamahu).
I think the same principle applies within the church and even in our congregation as we navigate this season of visioning and change. I know I’ve mentioned the 75% rule before, but it bears repeating and expanding. This idea began with Rev. James Forbes, pastor emeritus of Riverside Church in New York City, where rich and poor, black and brown and white, upper East side residents and the chronically homeless all sit side by side in the pews. The 75% rule says: in a healthy, dynamic, growing church, you are only happy with about 75% of what is going on at any given time—you are giving up the other 25% for someone down the pew who is very different from you, and has different spiritual needs.
Based on our reading for today, I can’t help but wonder if we shouldn’t be applying the 75% rule to both church and life: that in a healthy, dynamic, growing life, we are happiest and most compassionate when we regularly step out of our privilege and our personal wants, to focus on the common good, to give something up for someone else, to make space for the needs of others so that they might flourish, too.
I think Paul’s correspondence here points us in that direction; as he concludes this letter, he insists that this spirituality of “us” is a posture marked by humility: Let your gentleness be known to everyone, the text says. And The Message paraphrase offers us verses 6-7 this way:
Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.
After finding the right posture, next comes focus: “Fill your minds and meditate on these things.” For us today, I wonder what it might look like to be in community in such a way. To engage with one another from a shared focus on what is true and just, pure and honorable, authentic and compelling. With humility and prayer, we might focus on prioritizing the common good above our own, putting another person’s experience or perspective before ours.
Finally, in addition to finding the right posture and shared focus, this spirituality of “us” is also a practice: “Practice these things,” Paul writes: “As for the things you have learned and received and heard and noticed in us, do them, and the God of peace will be with you.” This way of being in community doesn’t just come naturally, he reminds us; it takes work to stay grounded in faith, to remain focused, and to keep the dialogue open as we seek to remain together across lines of difference.
Cultivate a posture of humility and prayer, focus on the common good, and practice togetherness. Those are the hallmarks of a spirituality of “us,” according to Paul. But what in the world does that look and sound like? A couple of years ago, I came across a post online that I’ve had bookmarked ever since, and it seems like a good starting point to consider. It says—
Get comfortable saying:
- Thanks for correcting me. I didn’t realize that.
- I hadn’t thought of it like that. I understand now.
- I was wrong about that, and I’ve changed my mind.
- I should do some more research before I argue this point.
There’s no shame in being wrong, only refusing to learn.
Friends, that is a fitting contemporary postscript for and application of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, I think. Wise, practical counsel if we are to navigate the potential divisiveness of this present season in the world and in our congregational journey. If we are to live into Paul’s calling for Christian communities to cultivate a spirituality of “us” and model it for the rest of the world, these should become regular phrases in our conversations together.
If we are to live as if every single child is our and to be the kind of church who puts its resources in alignment with such a spirituality of “us,” we must deepen our posture of humility and prayer, commit to shared focus on that common, and practice of togetherness each step of the way. May we strive to be up to the task, dear ones. This day and each. Amen.