Ephesians 4:1-16

I talked last week about the way that this letter to the Church at Ephesus spent the first three chapters laying out some key theological themes, and that at the heart of the letter was Paul’s absolute insistence that in the Church the division between ‘us’ and ‘them’ (for the Hebrew people the division between Jew and Gentile), was transcended, that the Church of Jesus Christ was big enough to hold those who had previously been far off, aliens and enemies.

Not work by making ‘them’ like ‘us’, by enabling Gentiles to become Jews, in order that they might be saved by a Jewish messiah, but by the creation of something new – a new humanity, Paul names it, a new way of being. An alternative.

And so here, as the second half of the book begins, Paul turns to the practical outworking of this new creation, appealing to Jew and Gentile alike to lead lives worthy of that calling, to live out the unity that is the mystery of God, made known to the world through the Church. The mystery that declares there is another way to be.

And, Paul leads off by telling his readers that if they want to make this mystery known, they’re going to have to work at it.

The unity that we have, in Christ, is something that we could never have achieved by human effort – I think the history of humanity bears that out fairly unambiguously – it is in Christ that we are united, by his life and death and resurrection.

But saying that, recognising that unity in Christ is a gift that we could not have attained by our own effort, does not absolve us of the responsibility to do something about it.

“Make every effort,” Paul writes, “to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace”.

For we, the Church, are one. The classic marks of the Church, the description we use in baptism as we welcome new members to the faith: the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church; begins with the adjective ‘One’. Looking at a world with thousands of different denominations, it is an almost absurd claim. But that is our declaration of faith, that, as Paul writes, “there is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all”.

How can it be? How can this Church contain in unity the progressive Australian Green and the Trump-voting evangelical? The high Anglo-Catholic and the Pentecostal? Theological liberals and theological conservatives? Those who affirm same sex relationships and welcome the gender diverse, and those who hold those things to be anathema?

And the answer is – in the same way that it contained slave owners and abolitionists, colonialists and liberation theologians, Catholics and reformers.

And how, historically, have we held those things together? Often badly, frequently tensely, sometimes violently – but somehow, none-the-less, making it through. Somehow finding enough that unites us to survive those things that divide us until such time as their importance seems to fade, or a unity emerges.  We rarely argue today about whether angels have corporeal form, or whether slavery is acceptable within the Church, or whether those who receive communion should receive both bread and wine or just bread – but all of these are questions that threatened the unity of the Church in their day.

And how has the Church maintained its essential unity through these times? It requires an attitude of life that Paul describes “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”.

When we have disagreed – even when we have disagreed passionately (for the people of God are not called to hold their faith as a light thing!) – we have maintained unity, remained one, because there has been enough humility – recognising that however strongly I feel, I may be wrong, and I can certainly learn and become more right – enough gentleness – seeking ways in which I can hold a disagreement with another without using it as a weapon against them – enough patience – trusting that God is working and will continue to work to bring us all to a common place – and above all, enough love, valuing our relationship with one another more than we value winning our arguments.

But to paint a picture of God creating our unity in Jesus and then leaving it to us to maintain it would be to misrepresent what Ephesians chapter 4 says to us about who we are. For having called on us to make every effort to maintain that unity, he goes on to speak of the way that God continues to be involved in the day to day life and, for want of a better word, governance of the Church – by giving us the gifts that we need to fulfil that calling.

Paul writes: “The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers”.

This so-called five-fold ministry: apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers; has been the subject of much theological reflection, exploring the way that the different needs of the young Church were met in the different roles therein.

But that’s a discussion for another day. Because in the context here, of the unity of the Church, it seems to me that it is enough to say that Paul emphasises variety.

God has not just given apostles, or pastors, or teachers. There is no single magic bullet of ministry, no single gift that meets all needs. We are different, with different gifts, and all that we have has been given because it is needed.

Here, as elsewhere, Paul points to the Church, the body of Christ, and celebrates the diversity of gifting that God has given us, in order that we might fulfill our calling.

Which brings us back to the diversity, the difference, even the division with which we began. It seems to me that Paul would argue that those differences that can so easily divide us can also be the diversity that empowers us, and ultimately, can unite us.

For when there are differences, we have a choice.

The simplest option, one common within the Church, is to pretend those differences don’t exist. We avoid any topic that might divide us, smile politely when we disagree, never allow our differences to threaten the peace.

The second option, disturbingly more and more common in the Church and the world, is to divide. To adopt a formal position, and drive out those who don’t agree. To make our tent smaller, our doctrine purer, and seek out those who are likeminded.

Rowan Williams, former archbishop of Canterbury, suggested a different way. When a fellow believer, someone seeking to follow Jesus, holds a different view to you, he encourages curiosity: “What is it that they have seen about God? How might their insight be a gift from God to me, and to the Church? Not, perhaps, to change my mind, but to show me more of God, for there is always more of God to be seen.”

This, it seems to me, is the blend of confidence and humility we need. Confidence in what we have understood of God – confidence which is not an arrogant absolute certainty, but enough to act upon – and humility to receive the gifts of insight from those who disagree.

This doesn’t lead to uniformity of belief. When we listen to and learn from others we often still disagree. But it can lead towards unity.

Our diversity, our differences, can drive division – indeed, that is the most natural thing for them to do.

But they can also be the gift that brings us towards the unity that is God’s calling. Unity, not uniformity, unity in diversity, unity that celebrates diversity.

Amen