Who Are My Brothers and Sisters?
[Jesus] replied to him, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers? ...whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother."
- Matthew 12:48,50
I love history. I love to study history. I love to teach history. And, my view of history is simple. History is the story of mankind asking “who is my brother?” No, human history isn’t much more than a rowdy group of boys playing a pick up game of football at recess. Captains are established (usually by virtue of charisma, athleticism, brute force of will, or all of the above). “I choose so-and-so.” “And I choose so-and-so.” Then, teams picked (down to the last sad sapling of a man), the groups proceed to champion their team’s cause over against the others, fighting and knocking each other down in a wonderful fit of puerile play. This is the basic story of history and it is always the same, always the same question: who is my brother? What changes however is how the teams are chosen, how the question is answered. In other words, what is constantly evolving, what is always in flux are the lines used to demarcate the team, to establish the brotherhood.
Take a tour of history and you will find different teams, different rationales behind “I choose so-and-so.” Just to name a few, in ancient Greece it was civic: my team is my city. In medieval Europe it was religious: my team is my religion. And now in modern times it has become national: my team is my nation-state. And even more recently we’ve seen teams established by race (Nazism), class (Communism), and even sexuality/gender-identity (a small slice of intersectionality). But it is all the same story, all the same boyish war game, all the same question: who is my brother?
As I said, today our identities are rooted in our nation-state, I think, even over and above our religious affiliations. To demonstrate, I know that as far as I am concerned I felt personally attacked on 9-11. Three thousand miles away from Manhattan I felt struck by Al-Qaeda. They struck me when they struck my country. They struck me when they struck my American brothers and sisters. And yet, when Christian brothers and sisters are daily struck down in Syria, by Isis, by Assad’s regime, by whomever, do I feel struck down? And if not, why not? “Who are my brothers?”
This year has been nothing if not disorienting, or perhaps reorienting. I heard theologian Carl Truman call it “apocalyptic” in the proper sense of the word. Because it has unveiled (apocalypsis) our true identities, our true affiliations, our true brotherhoods. Our society is filing into ranks by race, forming teams by class: “I choose…” And are we any different? Are we not tempted by brotherhoods of political left and right as the families of nation, race, and class stand at our church’s door, waiting for us, calling.
“Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister,” says Christ our Lord in blunt reply—Christ in whom there is no Jew nor Greek, no slave nor free, no male nor female. For it is not a race, it is not a class, it is not a sex, and it certainly isn’t a political party that does the will of God in heaven. So, today as you sit at the feet of Jesus look around you. See Peter the Jew. See Cornelius the Greek. See Matthew the leftist tax-collector. See Simon the right-wing zealot. See Zacheus the rich. And see the woman who sits closest, close enough to pour every aromatic drop of her poverty on those beautiful dusty feet. And as you look around ask yourself, “who are my brothers and sisters?”
~ Michael Kornelis