On Finding Common Ground

I had a conversation recently on the need for and importance of finding common ground. Here in the US, I’m aware of how we increasingly self-select into tribal groups of people who hold comparable perspectives on current issues, share similar values, and discuss politics and other contentious topics from analogous points of view.

In contrast, I think of Jesus’ closest disciples. For example, do you think Matthew the tax collector and Simon the Zealot got along? The former collaborated with the Roman Empire, which ruled over the land of Israel with an iron fist and took much of its wealth, in the form of those taxes, away from the land and the people. The latter, as a Zealot, espoused violent overthrow of those Roman oppressors. What common ground could they have shared, beyond an attraction to Jesus and his message?

Then there’s Joanna, the wife of Chuza, who followed Jesus alongside at least four disciples who once fished for a living: Peter, Andrew, James, and John. As I mentioned last month, her husband was steward to King Herod. That means he worked for the man who was taking over the fishing on the Sea of Galilee, disrupting the lives of independent fisherfolk like those disciples. How difficult might it have been for them to find common ground?

I wrote “difficult,” not “impossible,” because they obviously found enough common ground in Jesus to walk alongside each other in his company. I imagine Jesus was a pretty charismatic leader. He probably also spent some time managing the squabbles that would arise when his followers said things that set each other off. He might have reminded them that they are all children of one God and need to work together in service of bringing about the Reign of God on earth, as he sought to do.

Those of us who follow Jesus today are therefore obliged, I believe, to do the same. We are called to look beyond the circumstantial differences in our lives and choices and find that common ground in our faith. When I lived in Silver City, New Mexico, there was only one Episcopal church in town. That meant the one church community had to include Episcopalians from across the political and theological spectrums. Sometimes that was challenging—yet I think it was critically important.

I remember an older woman there, a retired judge. She kept a written list of all the people she prayed for daily. She’d walk around the fellowship hall after worship, checking in with people about things that were on her prayer book. She didn’t ask whom we’d voted for or what our stance was on the latest regional issue. She asked who needed prayer, and why, and added them to her list. She asked how J or H was doing, and added updates to their names in her book.

I invite you, in the days ahead, to think about how you can be intentionally connecting with, loving, and yes, praying for all the people in your congregations and communities. I believe it is in such love that we find that common ground.