We Do Not Know What Unity Is Because We Do Not Know What Division Is
10th Sunday of the Year
I want to make a claim—a claim that might come off as counterintuitive. Anyone paying a bit of attention would agree that there is division in the Church, and any sensible person thinks division is bad and hopes and works toward unity. My claim is that we do not know what real unity is, because we don’t know what real division is; and, thus, to understand how we are to be united, we must first understand how we are divided. What I’m saying is that we mistake the divisions we perceive to be deeper than they truly are; and, as a consequence, the attempts at unity we make fail to heal those divisions because those attempts fail to truly reach it. In other words, you have to know the root cause of the illness to know the treatment.
I have been in parishes long enough—as have you—to see people divided over many issues, which, in the grand scheme of things, are frivolous: the decorations, the music, the potlucks, the CYO, the parish council, the preaching, and, yes, even the priest. With a bit of perspective, we can see these divisions in hindsight for what they are—not all that important—and with that perspective, we might try to avoid being drawn into such controversies. Yet even if we do, it won’t be long until we are caught up in some other disagreement, one that comes across as more serious and the fight around it appearing more noble. These divisions typically surround the issue de jour, what is being argued about by bishops around the world or right here at home. Perhaps you have found yourself enthralled in the mind-numbing complexities of the Vatican Bank. Maybe you have tried to make sense of what’s going on with this or that hot-button doctrinal or moral issue being debated on the blogs. Or, as is more likely, you have maxed out your bandwidth for controversy with all that is going on here in Baltimore with Seek the City to Come.
Living in the Church, we are no strangers to division. We encounter it at every level. The person who has never stepped foot outside their parish knows division lives large in the Church just as well as the Pope. What I want to say is not that these controversies don’t matter (though some are certainly less important than the others and deserve less of our attention). What I want to say is that beneath them all there is still a more fundamental division—a division that does not exist at the level of policy, or doctrine, or preference, but a division that rests at the level of our person. This is the division we must grasp and seek to amend if we are to work at the unity we desire to attain.
The Book of Genesis—otherwise called the book of beginnings—recounts the beginning of this division in ourselves in the third chapter with the account of the fall. We enter the scene in today’s First Reading just after the drama between Eve and the serpent and then Adam has taken place. We rightly identify the eating of the apple as humanity’s original sin—the first instance of a human being disobeying the law of God—yet even before Eve takes a bite, Satan has already been successful in introducing division within her. Genesis tells us that “the serpent was more subtle than any other wild creature” (3:1). He shrewdly introduces doubt into Eve’s mind by calling into question what exactly the Lord God told her not to do and why he forbade her from doing it. The serpent says to Eve, “You will not die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (3:5). Now Eve begins to think about what God is holding out from her and comes to see the tree as desirable for attaining something she lacks. And so, the tension within her is born—the division between God’s command and her will. She wants something other than what God wants.
It is this division which is carried through in all the descendants of Adam and Eve. The first act of disobedience of our first parents has left wounds upon us that are the cause of the division within ourselves. We often think of sin only as rupturing our relationship with God and fail to notice and appreciate how sin also drives us away from each other and also puts us at odds with our own person. And it is because we are not one with ourselves that we struggle to be one with others. The cause of our divisions, whether great or small, is the division within that is the result of pride. Pride is the corrupting factor of the human condition, and as a cancer, it radiates out from the root of our soul into every facet of our life. This is not to say that we are inherently wrong in our convictions because we are proud; rather, because we are proud, we do not know how to enter into the kind of dialogue that makes disagreement fruitful and works toward harmony. Instead, we bicker and complain and fight petty wars all in the name of our self-righteous cause. And all that rarely, if ever, does anything to convince anyone that we are in the right and they in the wrong.
My claim that we do not know what unity is because we do not know what division is implies a corrective. In order to attain unity, we need to peer so deeply into our division that we see not merely the issue at hand but, through it, our own internal division getting in the way and making matters worse. If I am able, in the midst of being a player in a particular controversy, can identify a dark spot on my own heart—a malignant cluster of pride cells pumping hatred, fear, jealousy, rivalry, ambition, and every other ugly thing throughout my body—then I can know where I need the Lord’s grace to be unified within myself so that I can be a better instrument of unity in the Church and in the world. If we all did that and took it seriously, then we would be better at attaining the unity for which we thirst.
But let’s be clear: this project is hard work and unrelenting. Perfect self-unity will only be ours in heavenly bliss. Yet Saint Paul encourages us that, “although our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” The momentary light affliction of self-mastery—of coming to terms with who we are and the plethora of ways in which pride lives within us—produces the glory of holiness and lead us from this earthly tent, which is passing away, to the dwelling made by God for us in heaven.
Ever while we walk this earth, Satan will continue to tempt us toward division. But we take confidence in the Precious Blood of Christ, shed for us, which has rescued us from his snares and deceits. For Christ entered the strong man’s house and plundered his property when he descended to hell, broke down its gates, and led forth those who death had claimed before him. The kingdom of Satan is division, and his kingdom has been defeated by the Blood of the Lamb. “The kingdom of God is love, joy, and peace in the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 14:17). This kingdom will stand for all eternity, and it bids us enter. Should we accept its invitation, Christ will demand that we strip ourselves of our pride, for to be his brother or his sister, we must be one who follows not our own will but his. This is the only way that real unity is attainable, because only through his Blood have we been reconciled with God; and it will be only through his Blood that we will have reconciliation with each other and with ourselves.
Homily preached June 8/9, 2024 at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen and St. Thomas Aquinas, Hampden