I’m a Kansas City hospital chaplain. These patients give hope for peace at Christmas

I don’t like to mentally divide Christians into progressive or conservative camps. I like to categorize them as Eithers, Ors and Boths.

Either you think being Christian means you (and other true Christians) believe in the depths of your hearts that a man, Jesus, was sent by God to live a perfectly holy and obedient life, up to his dreadful death that killed your personal sins along with his mortal shell, and that God resurrected him to rule Heaven (and, at some point, Earth too) with God. These Eithers live into their devotion by minimizing the number of personal sins they commit, mostly as listed in Paul’s epistles, then repenting and joyfully accepting God’s forgiveness when they transgress. The reward for “believing,” by God’s grace and mercy, is Heaven.

Or you think being Christian means you (and other true Christians) follow the teachings of a radical rabbi from the first century who was anointed by God and summarized the Hebrew scriptures with two commands: Love God with every gift God gave you, and love one another. Ors live into their devotion by following Jesus’ specific instructions recorded in the Gospels, especially Matthew, Mark and Luke (the biographies) and secondarily John (a poetic rendering of the biographies). The reward for “following,” by God’s grace and mercy, is Heaven. And it’s a better Heaven than the Eithers’ because the Ors’ friends who are accidental followers — such as altruistic agnostics, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists and other Samaritans — go there too.

The Boths are Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter. Maybe three dozen other true Christians.

Everyone aspires to be a Both but it’s too damn hard.

The Eithers want to follow Jesus’ instructions, and are joyful when it happens, but fighting personal sins and evangelizing (so their Heaven can be as good as the Ors’ and all their family gets in) take most of their time and energy.

The Ors also want to feel the magic, floaty ecstasy that comes from a personal relationship with the best husband ever! But ecstatic surges are fleeting and can’t be forced. Most Ors have invited Jesus into their hearts at some point, but just can’t maintain the feeling and belief that that act was sufficient.

And so we Christians sit divided. Eithers have increasingly voted Republican while Ors have voted Democratic, and the secular sentiments spewed by political pundits have poisoned our family holiday celebrations, not to mention our democracy.

But I have hope. I’m a hospital chaplain, and two encounters with patients have persuaded me that the world may be turning. After years of social media algorithms convincing us to be our vilest, most suspicious selves, we may be waking up from a bad dream.

I sat with a Pentecostal pastor. He knew I was Mennonite, but didn’t know exactly what that meant. Old Order Mennonites are generally Eithers (or Boths). Urban Mennonites (like me), God’s hippies, can be Eithers or Ors (or Boths). I’m an Or. Statistically, my Pentecostal friend was likely an Either. But we both sat there assuming the other was a Both. And we had a holy conversation.

I made an observation I’d picked up from a preacher on an Either radio station: “You know, I don’t think it’s God in Heaven who is dancing in glee at our division, rancor and even death these days from COVID. It’s someone else.” I raised my eyebrow so the pastor knew I meant the devil. He nodded and responded.

“You know, it’s tough. I’m struggling to guide my congregation. They thought the last one, you know, was the one,” (as he raised his eyebrow and I nodded that we both were thinking Donald Trump). “And now they’re feeling confused. Some feel betrayed. It’s so hard.” We ended our conversation in prayer for each other, for divine guidance in our respective professions.

I needed his prayer. In the past year, I have had some appallingly unchristian thoughts about fellow Christians who have behaved atrociously and insulted, even assaulted nurses whom I love.

In another visit, I sat with a rural Baptist woman. Again, each was assuming the other was a Both. After a conversation in which she’d expressed her biggest concern was for the state of the world, she shared sheepishly, “I don’t know about you, but I am feeling better now that a calm man is in the White House.” I nodded. Our prayer, then, was for a calmer state of the world. Christians know this as the “peace that surpasses understanding.” And this world, of late, has truly surpassed all understanding.

I end now with a prayer for Christians, true or otherwise. On this day, in which we celebrate the birth of our anointed brother, example and Savior, may we all share the untainted joy that comes from assuming the other is a Both. May we spread peace on earth, good will to all, even the Samaritans among us. Amen.