“We were only fighting because we didn’t know who we were.”

There’s a line in a recent movie
that’s been echoing in my head all week
as news reports from Israel and Gaza
revealed barbarity and devastation beyond comprehension.
Maybe some of you will recognize it:
“We were only fighting because
we didn’t know who we were.”

We were only fighting because
we didn’t know who we were.

Anyone know the movie?
It’s from Barbie, of all things.
One of the most profound movie lines
I’ve ever heard came from Barbie.
As soon as I heard it, I exclaimed,
“That’ll preach!”
and immediately pulled out my phone
to quietly dictate it into a note so I wouldn’t forget it.
I knew that someday
there would be the right moment
to use it for a sermon.
Here we are in that moment.
How I wish we were not.

Now, in the movie, the quote is not about
warfare or massacres;
rather it’s about gender power dynamics,
individuality, and identity.
There is a ridiculous beach fight among the Kens,
with plastic bows and suction arrows,
ping pong paddles, and stick horses—
but no one gets hurt.
In the scene, the stereotypical Ken
sings a power ballad
about his feelings of inadequacy
and powerlessness in the matriarchal “Barbieland,”
the invisible pink-drenched world where
all of the versions of Barbies and Kens live.
Ken laments his subordination in that world.

I don’t want to give away much more of the movie,
so I’ll just say that is a biting critique of the patriarchy
that Barbie and Ken discover in the “real world”
and that Ken then tries to replicate in Barbieland
and take over the Barbies’ homes.

The Barbies end up reclaiming their power
and restoring the matriarchal system,
while the Kens are distracted with their infighting.
After the fight,
Stereotypical Barbie and Ken have a heart-to-heart
in which a distraught Ken bemoans being
only an accessory to Barbie.
She encourages him to be himself
and affirms that he is his own person
and not defined by her or any of the
trappings of manly power or of beach life.
They apologize to each other.
Then “President Barbie” works out a deal
to achieve more equality for the Kens
so they can be gloriously and independently themselves.
They can be #Kenough.

As the stereotypical Ken embraces
his individuality, other Kens awaken to theirs.
That’s when one of them reflects,
“We were only fighting because
we didn’t know who we were.”

This truth spoken in a fictitious world
resonates in the real world,
from the interpersonal to the global level.

Humans fight,
we divide and are divided,
we overpower and abuse,
because we don’t know,
or we forget,
who we are.

We don’t know, or we forget,
that we are God’s beloved child,
each of us.

Way in the back of the Prayer Book (pp. 845-846) ,
the Episcopal Church’s catechism says,
“We are part of God’s creation,
made in the image of God…
all people are worthy of respect and honor,
because all are created in the image of God,
and all can respond to the love of God.”
All people, it says.
Every single one.
Which is why our baptismal covenant
calls us to respect the dignity of EVERY human being.
All people includes non-Christians,
people of other faiths and political persuasions,
other cultures and ethnicities.
All people even includes our enemies
and people who harm others and/or themselves,
which explains why Jesus preached about
loving our enemies and praying for and blessing those
who persecute us.

Each person in here today or watching online
is a beloved child of God, made in God’s image.
God desires a deep, reconciled relationship
with each of us,
and everyone else in the world.
Even when we humans do terrible, terrible things
that disconnect us from God and others,
God doesn’t give up on us.

Each person in Israel
is a beloved child of God, made in God’s image.
Each person in Gaza
is a beloved child of God, made in God’s image.
Each person serving in Congress
is a beloved child of God, made in God’s image.
Each person at the U.S./Mexico border
is a beloved child of God, made in God’s image.
Each person who lives on the streets
is a beloved child of God, made in God’s image.
Each person in the Pride parade in Atlanta today
is a beloved child of God, made in God’s image.
Each person fighting or barely surviving in Ukraine
is a beloved child of God, made in God’s image.

We are only fighting because
we don’t know who we are
and WHOSE we are.

At the core of violence, hatred, and division,
is a failure to recognize and honor
the inherent worth and dignity of every person.

Humans tend to stratify,
to arrange people and groups
into better or worse.
We stereotype, use slurs and labels,
for “lesser” groups or people—

those______s

they’re all a bunch of __________s

she’s just a ____________.

This dehumanizes them,
meaning it strips away some of their God-given humanity,
making it much easier for people to rationalize
hurting, exploiting, or even killing them.

And it diminishes the humanity of those
reinforcing stereotypes and slurs and labels.

Dehumanization fuels violence
across the world,
and it starts small,
on human tongues and in human hearts.

Y’all, God desires so much more for us.
God has promised so much more for us.
God is already doing much more for us.

Today’s Scripture readings hold out
God’s vision for a world truly at peace,
especially in the Hebrew Scriptures,
in the passage from Isaiah and the familiar Psalm 23.
In the prophecy of Isaiah,
the promise of peace is offered
with images of a feast, a party—
On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines,
of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.
And he will destroy on this mountain
the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
the sheet that is spread over all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth.

Note that this joyous party is for
all peoples, all nations.

In Psalm 23,
we hear of abundant provision and protection,
and again of a feast:
You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me;
you have anointed my head with oil,
and my cup is running over.

Paul’s letter to the Philippians
reminds those new believers
that amid their conflicts and factions,
God is near.
They can stay close to God
and experience God’s peace
through prayer
and focusing not on disagreements
but on whatever is worthy of praise.

The parable gives us another party image—
a king who gave a wedding banquet
but is spurned by those initially invited,
and his slaves are mistreated and killed.
So the invite is extended again,
and random people from the streets,
both the good and the bad,
are all given wedding robes
that signify their identity as cherished guests.
One person shows up without
taking on that robe,
without fully claiming
his invitation to this new identity
and ends up in a version of hell.
It’s a cautionary tale about
excluding ourselves and others
from the belonging we are all offered.

Parties, provision, protection,
presence, prayer, praise,
and more parties,
for all persons.

These are all entry points into God’s peace,
a peace unfolding throughout the world even now
amid war and destruction.
These are all ways we can be active peacemakers
with God in the world.

Sharing meals with those we tend to label,
to seek understanding and enjoy each others’ company.
Providing for and protecting those who are suffering
or are on the margins of society.
Being a compassionate presence to all in our path.
Praying for others and praising God for blessings and breakthroughs.
These are essentials of peacemaking.

We get to be part of it,
to be God’s people of peace,
wherever we are in the world,
but we don’t have to be.
That’s our choice.
However, when we humans
choose not to claim our identity
as children of God,
or when we deny the same for others,
we suffer—
sometimes in small ways in our personal lives
and sometimes this plays out on the global scale.

But when we do claim our identity
as children of God,
our fighting can cease
and peace can flourish
because we know who we are
and whose we all are.