Ephesians 2:11-22 · One in Christ
Dividing Walls
Ephesians 2:11-22
Sermon
by Gibson “Nibs” Stroupe
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"Welcome to the center of the world!" This is the message of the first chapter of Ephesians. The author of Ephesians has told the Gentile-based churches that they have been brought into the center of all that is — in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the rest of this letter, he will be seeking to tell them the meaning of this great news. He wants to stress that this relocation of themselves by God's motivating grace means that they are called to change the way they understand their lives and the way that they live their lives.

Later on, he will list specific guidelines for the living of their lives, but in chapter 2 he speaks about a change in their imaginations, a change in the way they see themselves, and a change in the way they see others. He begins chapter 2 by focusing on the truth that the basic foundation of their individual and corporate lives is the grace of God: "But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved" (Ephesians 2:4-5). He then turns to the meaning of this foundation in today's lectionary reading that concludes the second chapter.

He begins by noting a central religious distinction between the people of Jesus and the rest of the world: circumcision. He notes that it is a worldly ritual for males, done by humanity, yet it has religious power. In our modern scientific world, some of us may think that such a distinction is quaint but outdated. Before we get too judgmental about such a distinction, let us remember our current political situation. People are blowing one another up not because they disagree on whether the world is flat but because they disagree on the name of the supreme being: YHWH or Allah or God. How we name the ultimate reality, how we answer the questions of ultimate meaning — these determine how we imagine ourselves and how we see others.

Though other cultures practiced circumcision at the time of Ephesians, the people of Jesus added a religious dimension: It was a sign of the covenant with YHWH, the God who had brought them out of slavery in Egypt, the God who had chosen them to be God's people. For Judaism, circumcision of males recalled the covenant that God had made with Abraham and Sarah, a covenant in which God had claimed them and their descendants as God's special people, a "light to the nations," as Isaiah called them (42:6). The people who were not claimed in this way were called "Gentiles" in the New Testament, translating a Greek word meaning "the nations."

The Bible has various opinions of the Gentiles. Several New Testament portraits show Gentiles who are God-fearing and admirable, such as the centurion in Luke 7, Cornelius in Acts 10, and the woman who begs Jesus for healing for her daughter in Matthew 15. For the most part, however, the Gentiles were seen as pagans at best and as dogs at worst. Even Jesus called them "dogs" in the Matthew 15 passage. His culture had taught him that Gentiles were not his people and more importantly were not God's people. That is Jesus' point in defending his refusal to acknowledge the Gentile woman's request for healing in Matthew 15:26: "It's not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." This basic distinction was seen most vividly in the temple where a wall divided the court of the Gentiles from the space reserved for Jewish people. Today's lectionary passage in Acts 2 uses the word "aliens" to describe the Gentiles, those outside the wall.

I received a sense of the power of these dividing walls when I took a time-traveling tour several years ago when my son, David, was a freshman in high school. I didn't use a time machine similar to H. G. Wells in The Time Machine, or a hyperspace trip in a souped-up car like Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future, or a fancy laser beam. I did use an automobile, though, as I drove David to play a high school tennis match with a team on the north side of Atlanta. Suddenly, as we were driving along, I was back in medieval Europe — it was astounding! There were all these castles and walls and gates, designed to keep the peasants out. As I looked closer, I saw something more like huge houses and housing developments, surrounded by walls and gates. And, I realized that I hadn't gone time traveling after all. I was still in the present time, but rather I had gone space traveling. I was no longer in the United States — somehow my car had transported my son and me to a third-world country like Honduras. I was in an incredibly wealthy area, driving into a rich country club, a place as isolated and protected as any wealthy landowner in Guatemala, and where the rich are separated and protected in their walled communities from contact with any other people. Then, I came to my senses again and saw that I was not in Bangladesh but rather in the United States, in a county on the affluent north side of Atlanta. It was a stunning and difficult revelation.

In today's passage, the author of Ephesians makes a direct attack on these kinds of divisions, and he affirms that in Jesus Christ, there is a whole new vision — a whole new world — that we are asked to enter and to explore. He proclaims that God has broken down the dividing walls in Jesus Christ, and in this movement, we are called into new life — to see ourselves and to see others in a new way, that each of us and all of us are now children of God, belonging to the same household.

This proclamation is both bad news and good news. We are acquainted with the divisions that Ephesians is addressing. They are divisions on which we all tend to base our lives, the divisions upon which we depend — Jew and Gentile, black and white and brown and tan, male and female, poor and rich, American and non-American, illegal aliens (there's that word again) and citizens, terrorists and law-abiding citizens. Ephesians tells us that these divisions — that seem so important to us — no longer have validity in Jesus Christ, that Christ has broken down the dividing walls of hostility. Like circumcision, they are distinctions created by human beings, not by God.

This should be astonishingly good news, but we often hear it as bad news because it calls into question the categories of our lives. Many white American churches, especially in the South, had to wrestle with this "good news as bad news" syndrome when the Civil Rights Movement broke out in the 1950s and 1960s. Would they worship race or Jesus Christ? Could black people worship with them in the sanctuary? Could black people become members of the church?1 The church that my wife and I pastor is a prime example of that struggle. Oakhurst was a thriving white church of almost 900 members in the early 1960s, but when black folk moved into the neighborhood, white folk could not imagine a life with black folk in the neighborhood or in the church, so they fled. They fled in huge numbers — the church lost 90% of its membership in fifteen years. That struggle continues today in our country as churches wrestle with the "good news" that often seems so bad. It is almost as if God keeps tearing down the walls, and we keep building them up again.

The dividing walls of hostility have been broken down, and all people are now welcomed into the household of God — all people, not just special ones. All people, not light-skinned or dark-skinned. All people, not comfortable or poor. Breaking down the dividing walls is no easy task. These dividing walls don't get built in a day by goose-stepping armies but through a much more gradual process on a daily basis. The idols usually don't crush us — rather they slowly capture our imaginations. Most often it is not a tidal wave that overwhelms us but rather the routine, day-to-day lapping of the waves over the shores of our souls, gradually eroding the sand under our feet.

The dividing walls become deeply rooted in our identities and our imaginations and breaking them down is difficult. The dividing walls are not melted down by the glorious and radiating, sunny light of God's love. The dividing walls are broken down by the blood of Jesus Christ — it is costly and painful. I think this is why the author of Ephesians uses the image of the "household of God" in these verses rather than the "kingdom of God" or the "reign of God." It is one thing to say that we're all welcomed into the kingdom of God. We can live with that — you stay in your part of the kingdom, and I'll stay in mine. However, the focus here is on a household — a home — a place where those who were once enemies now live together, where they share the kitchen table and the bathroom. Now, that is a different story — and so much more difficult.

Yet, the author of Ephesians celebrates this new household of God, this overcoming of divisions, as good news! Our experience at Oakhurst has helped us to grasp the idea of the good news in chapter 2 of Ephesians. We have been a multicultural church for over thirty years now. In these decades, we have made a startling discovery, a discovery which we did not seek and which we did not think was possible. We have seen with our own eyes and our own hearts that God is breaking down the dividing walls. It has been a real, flesh and blood, stumbling, bumbling, longing, hopeful, joyful journey. There have been great insights and stinging moments of pain. It is a discovery based not only in the proclamation of denominational bodies but also in our everyday experience, as we encounter those whom the world tells us are our enemies. What we have seen on the other side of the dividing walls are not the monsters that we had been taught to fear but the sisters and brothers for whom our hearts are longing. It is painful and stunningly good news.2

The first paragraph of our mission statement serves as a guide for us all as we seek to find our way as God's people in a world filled with terror and fear:

Oakhurst Presbyterian Church is a community of diversities. We come from different places, from different economic levels, from different countries of the world. We are a church in the city. Our life has known the movement of the city: We were once all of one kind. Then our church became multiracial and felt small and insignificant, and our people were afraid, afraid of ourselves from different races, and afraid of ourselves from different cultures. The faithfulness of those who stayed and those who came gave us courage. By God's power we have been given grace through what we thought was our weakness. In the midst of our fears, God has surprised us and blessed us. The diversity, which we feared, has empowered us to confront God's truth in the world. In Jesus Christ, the dividing walls of hostility have been broken down. Though we are born into diverse earthly families, our life together has led us to affirm that we are called to be one family through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.3

We are no longer strangers and aliens, but we are all now part of the people of God. To God be the glory! Amen.


1. For more information on this, see Joel Alvis, Religion and Race: Southern Presbyterians 1946-1983 (Tuscaloosa, Alabama: University of Alabama Press, 1994).

2. For more information on Oakhurst, see Nibs Stroupe and Caroline Leach, O Lord, Hold Our Hands: How a Church Thrives in a Multicultural World (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2003).

3. Oakhurst Presbyterian Church Mission Statement, adopted in 1990, revised in 1998.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Sermons for Sundays after Pentecost (First Third): Eyes on The Prize, by Gibson “Nibs” Stroupe