So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called ‘the uncircumcision’ by those who are called ‘the circumcision’—a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands— remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, so that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling-place for God.
Reflection
‘In his flesh he has made both groups into one.’ What an incredible sentence. The writer tells us that all people, Gentiles and Jews, are united in the flesh of Christ, brought near to God. Not by a strategic vision or Assembly resolution. Not by a catchy slogan published on social media. Not even by a written contract.
Flesh. A body.
Bodies get hurt. They carry wounds and scars. They bruise and bleed. Their skin comes in a variety of colours. They wrinkle as they get old. They give birth, and are marked by it. They get cancer, contract viruses, and bear the visible and invisible signs of a stroke. They stop working the way we want them to, sometimes without warning. They are mocked, and idolised. They are the vessels through which harm is delivered—and received. They are also the vessels through which forgiveness is offered—and received. They know what it is to love, and be loved. Our bodies—our flesh—are not evil. Each body bears the image of God, and God called us good. But it also carries the weight of evil. And because of this, we have found myriad ways to fear our flesh and that which it desires, craves, needs, and loves.
God shows that bodies matter. God uses flesh to unite all flesh in all times with God. We see in the cross the way our human sin treats the body of Jesus, God-made-flesh, God-with-us, cruelly pierced by nails and imperial weaponry. How many bodies have we as a people, or a nation, or a community, likewise harmed? Yet that crucified body also defeated death. That broken body, cradled by its mother in countless Pietàs, came back amongst us, breathed on the disciples, and went to be seated with God. None of this was done as a neat magic trick. It was done so that we, too—even those of us who have harmed our own bodies and the bodies of others—could be with God. We need no longer stand with those who cause and deliver harm to bodies. We are citizens with the saints, united across all our differences, in all our bodies and with all our names, in Christ, held fast in the love of God, already and always.
Prayer
Holy One, I give thanks for my body: the one it was, the one it is, and the one it is always becoming. May I, and all whom I encounter, know it as loved by you, united in Christ, and bearing your image—and may I see every other body that way too. Amen.
