There was much local sadness in the news this week. I wouldn't want to rank any of the stories as to which was the most heart-rending, but the death by his own hand of a young police officer, Daniel Vize, was among the most distressing. Danny was by all accounts an all-American type of guy; as a Lakeland grad, his death has touched the community and quite a few in our congregation. Another local story caught my attention, if only for it's sheer insanity of it all. A seventy-five year old man from killed his former daughter-in-law because she was planning to have a fence built on a disputed property line. I read the story and immediately thought of the poet Robert Frost; you probable know the reason. The famous line, and oh how ionic it is: "Good fences make good neighbors." You know what? I don't think so.

I like the poetry of Frost, but that has never been my experience with fences. Fences may keep our dog safe from chasing cars in the street. Fences may keep our child safe from those very same cars. Fences may privatize our castle grounds - keeping us out of eye contact - and at a distance - from out neighbors. But, "Good fences make good neighbors"? I decided to re-read Frost's poem to see if I had missed something. I had. I had mis-remembered Robert Frost, and took the text of the poet out of context. I learned long ago in seminary, taking text out of context is pretext.

In the poem, "Mending Walls," the poet writes about neighbors taking a springtime walk along their property line, each on their own side of their stone wall that separated that property. They note where the frost had heaved and tumbled some boulders. The first man, it seems, doesn't really feel the wall is necessary, especially at certain sections. "There ... it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple-orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, "Good fences make good neighbors." Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head: "Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows." But his neighbor is unmoved This is the context which makes all the difference. Robert Frost is not saying, "Good fences make good neighbors." As I re-read Frost he seems to be saying, "good neighbors have no need of fences!" This would dovetail nicely into the thinking of St. Paul as he writes, "Love does no wrong to a neighbor." Loving your neighbor implies no fences are needed.

Now I'm not writing a article for Better Homes and Gardens. I'm speaking metaphorically about those things we construct that divide us from one another. In a perfect world we need not build walls and fences, but I'm not so naïve as to think that this is anything close to a perfect world. This is not a perfect world, and it's not naïve to think that members of a Christian community, the Church, ought to do a pretty good job of tearing down fences and chipping away at anything that gets in the way of loving our neighbor. If we Christians can't act like Christians within the confines of our own congregational community ... there's little chance we will act any better beyond the community.

All this leads into one of the most disquieting of all Gospel texts, Matthew 18:15-20. We might entitle these five verses, "When Bad People Disrupt a Good Church," recognizing that the terms "bad people" and "good church" are relative and subjective. In her book, Bread of Angels, Barbara Brown Taylor speaks to this reality of congregational life: "You join a community looking for - what - closeness, support, some measure of safety - and nine times out of ten what you get instead is this holy struggle to live and work with people who are just as unyielding as you are. The brains want everyone to act like brains and the hearts want everyone to act like hearts and there is always a hangnail who brings out the hangnail in everyone else." I'm pointing no fingers; I recognize with chagrin, that if I point my finger you might note the hangnail!

In Matthew 18:15, Jesus has a bit of three-step advice to help tear down the fences we build: "If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone." Don't you just hate how sometimes the Bible gets so down-to-earth practical? "If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone." That's practical; way practical. I want to say, "C'mon God. If you walked in my shoes, you'd understand it's not all that easy...." And then I recall, of course, that God did walk in my size eight Oxfords. "Talk it out," Jesus says. One-on-one; mano-a-mano (which means hand-to-hand). It's hard to strike out if you are holding the hand of the other. A lot of times we just want to take it out to the parking lot and air our gripes behind someone's back. We try to encourage others to stand on our side of the fence, the fence we are so diligently building! "Make peace with people," someone once said, "and make war with your sins." In this fence-building world, we usually do the opposite! "Make peace with people," someone once said, "and make war with your sins."

Speaking of contextm, were you aware of the context of these familiar words of Jesus, "For where two or three are gathered in my name ..."? The context is conflict. The worst kind of conflict because it takes place among members of the Christian community, a place in which we are called to build up one another, and tear down fences. But people are people, and whatever else God's Church is, it is made up of frail humanity. From the oldest pope to the youngest papoose - the Church is people. You recall the finger game, "here is the church, here is the steeple, open the doors and here's all the people." Well, without "all the people," there ain't no Church. There might be a building, there might be pews, there might be linens and candles and incense and stained glass ... but with no people, there ain't no Church.

And, people being people, even in the church community, there are bound to be petty disagreements; and sometimes these petty disagreements grow and grow to the point where Israelis and Palestinians seem better friends than people who have shared the same pew for a decade! Pretty soon there are a lot of hard feelings and harsh feelings and the Church of Jesus Christ, Prince of Peace, Sovereign of Shalom, the church resembles a tug of war with each side straining and pulling against the other. Most times it seems far easier to build a fence ... than to dismantle one!

Two brothers who lived on adjoining farms had a falling out. It was the first serious rift in their forty years of working together. It began with a small misunderstanding, and grew into a major difference, and finally exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence. One morning, there was a knock on the door of the older brother. A man, a drifeter with a carpenter's toolbox said, "I'm looking for a few days' work; maybe you have a few small jobs here and there."

"Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Take a look across the creek at that farm. That's my younger brother! Last week, there was a meadow between us, but he took his bulldozer and dug that creek. Well I'm going to do him one better. See that pile of old lumber? I want you to build an eight foot high fence between us. Then I won't need to see his place or his face anymore." The carpenter said, "I'll do a good job for you."

The older brother left to run some errands in town. He returned several hours later and when he got back and saw the work of the carpenter, his jaw dropped. There was no fence; the carpenter had built a bridge that stretched from one side of the creek bed to the other! And his younger brother, was coming toward them, his hand outstretched. "After all I've said and done, you're quite a guy." The two brothers met in the middle, and embraced. They turned to see the carpenter leaving. "No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother. "I'd love to," said the stranger, "but I have many more bridges to build."

A long time ago the Carpenter came into our world to build bridges. He fed the hungry, and bridges were built; he healed the sick and proclaimed good news to the poor; and bridges were built. He's with us this morning, as at least two or three are gathered in his name. And if there are people in this community with whom you need to mend fences ... in the name of the Carpenter ... just do it. He'll help you to do more than mend the fence; the Carpenter will build a bridge!