St. Simon and St. Jude Day III — Without a Cause

The Freedom to Become One

He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two. 

— Ephesians 2:15

They hated me without a cause.

— John 15:25

Today, October 28, the Church commemorates St. Simon and St. Jude, two apostles about whom we know relatively little. Simon was called the Zealot, a designation suggesting passionate conviction, although its precise meaning remains uncertain. Jude is remembered for asking Jesus why he would reveal himself to his disciples and not to the world. Whatever their individual backgrounds, these men became part of a community whose members were called to something extraordinary: to set aside the divisions that separated them and find their unity in Christ. In today's reading from Ephesians, Paul describes that transformation in astonishing terms. Christ has broken down the dividing wall between Jews and Gentiles, abolishing the commandments and ordinances that had separated them, so that he might create “one new humanity in place of the two.” Not two competing peoples, not one group conquering or absorbing the other, but one new humanity.

This is a remarkable declaration of freedom. The ancient Israelites had lived under an elaborate system of laws and ordinances, some of which distinguished them sharply from their neighbors. The Old Testament also contains accounts of violence, warfare, punishment, and human cruelty that can be deeply troubling to modern readers. Even my mother, when she began reading the Bible from beginning to end in her later years, remarked on how awful some of those passages were. Today, critics of Christianity sometimes point to such texts as evidence against the faith itself. Yet here, in the New Testament, Paul announces that Christ has accomplished something radically new. The legal barriers that divided God's people from the nations no longer determine who belongs. This does not mean that the Old Testament has become worthless, or that moral responsibility has disappeared. It means that our relationship with God and one another is no longer to be governed by those dividing walls. Christ has opened the way to reconciliation.

And how strangely human it is to resist freedom! After Israel's early years as a nation, the people demanded a king, even when Samuel warned them how much a king would take from them. They wanted the security of an earthly ruler, even at the cost of new obligations and burdens. We sometimes do something similar. We speak passionately about freedom while seeking the reassurance of authorities, systems, loyalties, and boundaries that tell us exactly where we belong and whom we should oppose. We may even cling to divisions that Christ calls us to overcome. Genuine freedom can be unsettling because it requires us to take responsibility for how we treat one another. It asks us to move beyond the comfortable certainty of our people and their people.

Then, in today's Gospel, Jesus says something almost heartbreaking: “They hated me without a cause.” Here is the man who taught us to love our enemies, bless those who curse us, forgive those who wrong us, and treat others as we would wish to be treated. Here is the one who welcomed the overlooked, touched the untouchable, and challenged the powerful to examine their own hearts. And yet he encountered fierce hostility. Certainly, his teachings challenged established interests, assumptions, and claims to authority. His opponents had reasons for feeling threatened. But having a reason to feel threatened is not the same as having just cause for hatred. The one who came to reconcile humanity was rejected by people who could not accept what that reconciliation demanded.

I keep returning to three remarkably simple ideas. We are one people. We should not be at war with one another; that is peace. Every person deserves dignity and honor. Our differences do not diminish our shared humanity; that is equity. We are called to serve others rather than elevate ourselves above them. That is love. None of these principles requires us to pretend that differences are meaningless or that injustice should go unchallenged. But all three require us to recognize something greater than our divisions. And for Christians, that something is not merely an ideal or a political philosophy. It is a person. Paul writes, “For he is our peace.” Christ does not simply recommend reconciliation. He embodies it.

As we conclude these reflections for the Feast of St. Simon and St. Jude, I wonder how often I have resisted the very freedom Christ offers. How often have I allowed political loyalties, religious traditions, personal grievances, or the desire to be right to determine whom I welcome and whom I keep at a distance? How often have I found comfort in a dividing wall rather than accepting the responsibility of helping tear it down? Jesus warned his disciples that love would not always be welcomed, and that those who followed him might encounter hatred themselves. But he never gave them permission to answer hatred with hatred. He gave them something far more difficult and far more liberating: the command to love one another. Perhaps the greatest testimony we can offer to a divided world is not another argument about why our side is right, but the sight of people who have learned, through Christ, to live together in peace.

Reflectionary is an ongoing conversation with Scripture. If these reflections are meaningful to you, please subscribe and come back often. And by all means, join the conversation—your questions, disagreements, insights and reflections are always welcome.