Every town has a version of this. Two people who have both given years to the same good thing: the food pantry, the school board, the youth league, the church kitchen. Both of them show up, and both of them work hard. And somewhere along the way, they stopped being able to stand in the same room together. Everybody knows it. People quietly schedule around them, and the work goes on, a little colder than it should.
This past Sunday's reading from Philippians has two of those people in it. On Tuesday we sat at the feast in the readings for Proper 23, Year A: Isaiah's table on the mountain in Isaiah 25:1-9, where God swallows death and wipes the tears off every face, and the wedding banquet in Matthew 22:1-14 that the invited guests couldn't be bothered to attend. Today I want to stay at that table and look at who is actually sitting at it. Once the hall fills up with everybody, good and bad, you are going to end up next to somebody you don't get along with. Philippians 4:1-9 is about what you do then.
Euodia and Syntyche: the two names in Philippians 4
Paul is writing from prison to a church he loves, and the letter is warm almost all the way through. Then, near the end, he writes: "I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel."
Letters like this were read aloud to the whole congregation. So picture Sunday in Philippi. The church is gathered, somebody unrolls Paul's letter, they are three-quarters of the way through and everybody is moved, and then the reader says Euodia's name. Then Syntyche's. Every head in the room turns.
We don't know what they were fighting about, because Paul never says, and that may be the most important detail in the passage. He takes no side and never tells the church who is right. He names them, asks them to be of one mind, and asks someone else to help.
Synathleo: teammates who can't stand each other
Look at how Paul describes them. They "struggled beside me." That is one Greek word, synathleō (soon-ath-LEH-oh), and you can hear "athlete" inside it. It means to compete side by side, like teammates. It shows up only twice in the whole New Testament, and both times are in this letter. In chapter one Paul asks the church to stand firm, "striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel." Same word.
So the two women at odds are teammates who played the same game on the same side, next to Paul. Shared struggle is how a lot of friendships start. But it also means both of them care, and people who never cared about the work rarely end up in a feud over it. That is why this kind of fight hurts.
Epieikes: what "let your gentleness be known" really means
A few lines later Paul says to the whole church, "Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near."
Word Study — Epieikēs
The word translated "gentleness" in Philippians 4:5 is epieikēs (eh-pee-eye-KACE), and translators have never agreed on it. The King James says "moderation." The RSV says "forbearance." The ESV says "reasonableness." The NRSV says "gentleness." When a word gets four translations, English usually doesn't have the right one. The closest thing is the give in a person: the willingness not to press every advantage you have, and not to insist on the full measure of what you are owed, even when you are right. Aristotle used the related noun for the judge who knows when the letter of the law would do an injustice and eases off.
That last part matters. You can be completely convinced you are correct and still have give in you. Paul isn't asking Euodia and Syntyche to stop having convictions. He is asking them to stop needing to win.
And he says to let it be known to everyone. He is describing a reputation, something the whole town could see. Paul wants the church to be the people in town known for their give.
"The Lord is near" can be read two ways, and Paul likely means both. The Lord is near as in coming soon, so this fight isn't the last word. And the Lord is near as in close by, in the room, at the table, watching how you treat the person across from you.
The peace that stands guard, and a new ledger to keep
Right after that Paul says, "Do not worry about anything," and promises that "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." "Guard" is a soldier's word. It means to post a garrison. Philippi was a Roman colony full of retired soldiers, and they would have known that sound. Paul is telling a church with a feud in it that God's peace can stand watch over a heart the way a garrison stands watch over a gate.
Then comes the famous line: "Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." "Think" is logizomai (lo-GID-zo-my), an accounting word that means to reckon or keep a tally. Last week Paul ran the ledger on his own résumé and threw it out. This week he hands the Philippians a new ledger: stop counting what the other person did to you, and start counting what is true and honorable instead, including what is true and honorable about Syntyche.
The wedding banquet: you don't choose who sits next to you
This is the same Sunday and the same table as the wedding banquet. When the king's servants go out into the streets, they bring in "both good and bad." The hall is full of people who didn't choose each other. The host made the guest list, and he doesn't ask the people already seated whether they approve of the new arrivals. Isaiah's feast is the same: all peoples, all nations, all faces. If you are at that table, you don't get to pick who is on your left.
There is a small detail in the parable that fits here too. When the king confronts the man without a wedding robe, the first word out of his mouth is "Friend." Matthew is the only Gospel writer who uses that address, and he uses it three times, each time for someone in the wrong: the grumbling worker in the vineyard, the guest without a robe, and Judas in the garden. Even with a real complaint, the king opens with "Friend." That is epieikēs in one word.
Find your Euodia, and give on one thing
Most of us have a Euodia, somebody on our own side of the work whom we have quietly decided we can't stand. The other parent on the committee. The neighbor with the other yard sign. The relative across the Thanksgiving table who loves the same people you love and votes the opposite way. We live in a moment that rewards pressing every advantage and making sure everybody knows who was right. Paul's alternative still lets you believe what you believe. He just wants you to be known for your give.
So think of your Euodia this week and find one thing to give on that isn't essential: a point you could win and let go, a meeting you let them run, a sentence that starts with "Friend" instead of "Actually." If that is too much, start with the other ledger. Write down one thing that is true and honorable about that person. That is logizomai, counting what is worth counting. You can hear the full episode of Monday to Sunday above.