Glasgow is known for many things, but the rivalry between Celtic and Rangers is legendary. Or, some people would say, infamous and disgraceful. The truth is that it isn’t unique. This kind of contest is widespread in the world of football despite official declarations of the uniting power of the game. In fact, the sport’s popularity relies on such a rivalry to a great extent; often it’s something that makes the game more attractive and consequently profitable. However, this is just a relatively modern, and one of countless incarnations of a social phenomenon as old as humankind itself: tribalism. We are social animals and we instinctively want to belong to and be part of a clearly identified group of people similar to us, in the broadest sense of the phrase. Most of us bear multiple tribal identities: close and extended family, regionality, religious affiliation, political, class, ethnicity, language, nationality… This list can be very long indeed. Those multiple identities can overlap and complement each other. Forming and belonging to various tribes is the way we instinctively live our lives; we do this in order to be well-rooted.
These days tribalism often carries a negative notion of close-mindedness and indifference or even hostility towards strangers. However, it’s a deeply embedded, instinctive defensive system against perceived threats and dangers coming from the outside world. History teaches us that such caution has virtually always been justified. Humankind has this strange inclination to conquer and dominate other groups, be it by soft power or by violent means. Consequently, resistance against a dangerous, foreign influence was a natural reaction, particularly with any previous negative experiences. But this defensive attitude could result in the inability to develop any relationship with the outside world, and in the long term be detrimental to the community. Such closed, inward-looking tribes develop a strong sense of their own superiority. That strengthens their detachment from the wider world and in return, it fortifies their sense of superiority. It’s a self-propelling, vicious circle. In modern history, the most obvious example of such a mechanism was the rise of Nazism and the subsequent methodical extermination of people deemed inferior: Jews, Slavs, Roma and so on… Although the scale, scope and industrialisation of the horror were unprecedented, sadly it wasn’t the first or the last instance of such an attitude. Most of the attempts to subjugate one tribe by another were driven by a sense of superiority. However, sometimes it was a defensive rather than an offensive mechanism, usually employed when the tribe in question lacked the appropriate means to defend themselves in a more direct way. In such circumstances, the superiority was more in a moral, religious or cultural sense. That was the social landscape of Judea in Jesus’ times.
Having struggled for about five centuries to keep their ethnic and religious identity undiminished under pressure from various empires, the Israelites ended up as a politically weakened nation with little influence over the wider world or even their own affairs in their own rump kingdom. As their political power was decreasing, their sense of moral, cultural and religious superiority was growing. Eventually, it crystallised in the idea of a powerful figure, the Messiah, who would bring salvation to the downtrodden people of Israel, get rid of their oppressors and establish the kingdom of God. Their moral superiority would be turned into a political one. We can clearly hear echoes of such longing in today’s first reading. When Jesus turned on the stage and began his ministry, most of his followers assumed him to be the Messiah. Their hopes were high despite Jesus’ multiple rejections of such a notion. The first community that formed after his death and resurrection consisted of Jews and was in danger of becoming one of the many Jewish sects populating the Holy Land at that time – there was a small pool of potential converts. There were tensions between the new religious group and more established and influential ones and – inevitably – violent confrontations. Those who escaped persecution told their stories to non-Jewish residents of pagan settlements across Syria, piquing their interest and suddenly there was a substantial influx of Gentiles into the community. It was a serious challenge to the then-established tribal thinking of the early Church as a Jewish-only community: How do we accommodate the Gentiles and is it at all possible? It’s remarkable that the story of the pagan wise men paying respect to the new-born Jewish Messiah was only told by St Matthew, in his gospel addressed to a Jewish audience. The intention was clear: God’s plan of salvation was universal, not limited to one nation or specific group of people. That was the meaning of what we now call the Epiphany of the Lord.
The revolutionary, out-of-the-box idea of the 1st century AD is one we take for granted in our multinational, ethnically and culturally rich and diverse community of the worldwide Catholic Church. It is a source of great pride and a sense of privilege for me to be part of our parish community, which consists of people from all the continents (minus Antarctica, for obvious reasons). I find it refreshing and enriching that all those diverse identities of ours coexist and positively influence one another. It is our joyful reality thanks to the spiritual bravery and open-mindedness of the first Christians. Inspired, stirred and spurred by the Holy Spirit, they opened their minds, hearts and communities to those who had not been of their tribe and welcomed the newcomers. It wasn’t always easy; it inevitably caused some tensions and even conflicts. But they learned how to deal with such challenges and turn them to their greater advantage. Two thousand years later the challenge remains the same: how to preserve our individual identities without falling into a trap of tribal tunnel-vision but instead weave them into the beautiful tapestry of our modern, diverse community and wider society. Today’s gospel may offer inspiration. The wise men arrived at the new-born Messiah one way but “returned to their own country by a different way.” Breaking the mould and thinking out of the box is the way forward.
