What are some of the most famous feuds in all of history?

There’s the one between two of our nation’s founding fathers, Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr.

It all began in 1791 when Burr was elected to the New York senate instead of Hamilton’s father-in-law, Phillip Schuyler.  When Schuyler lost, Hamilton took it personally and began a campaign against Burr.  Then, in 1804, when Burr lost the election as governor of New York thanks to Hamilton, he took it personally.  When Hamilton refused to apologize, Burr challenged him to a duel.  

So at dawn on July 11, 1804, at a rocky bluff in Weehawken, New Jersey, Hamilton fired his shot in the air, and Burr shot Hamilton in the stomach.  He died in New York the next day.

  Prohibition-era gangsters Al Capone and Bugs Moran didn’t get along.  Though the two of them controlled much of Chicago’s underworld for most of the 1920s, they were never afraid of the police.  But they were afraid of each other.  For years, they engaged in a bloody feud that included robbery, arson and murder.  Finally, things settled down when Capone was arrested for tax evasion and Moran for bank robbery.  Capone died of a heart attack at home at the age of 48.  Moran died in prison at 65.

Then there’s the most famous feud of all, the one between the Hatfields and the McCoys.  While the Hatfields supported the Confederacy, the McCoys supported the Union.  And one day, when a Hatfield and a McCoy got into an argument over a pig, that’s when things turned into an all out war, with kidnappings, killings and beatings.  Finally, after ten years of bitter conflict and more than a dozen deaths, with a little help from the Virginia state militia, the two families agreed to get along.

The Bible is no stranger to conflict.  Cain killed his brother Abel and Jacob stole the birthright from his brother Esau.  Sarah had quite a tiff going with her maidservant Hagar and Abraham had more than his share of trouble with his nephew Lot.  And, in the book of Acts, even Barnabas, John Mark and the apostle Paul had a little trouble getting along.

And here in the book of Philippians, we meet two more--women—one named Euodia and the other, Syntyche.

Let me read the words of Philippians chapter 4.  Paul writes, “I entreat Euodia and I entreat Syntyche to agree in the Lord.  Yes, I ask you also, true companion, help these women, who have labored side by side with me in the gospel together with Clement and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are written in the book of life.”

So how did this all begin?  It began just a few years before, when Paul first came to a town called Philippi to preach the gospel there.  And while he was there, he met a group of women who had come down to the river to pray, women like Lydia, a seller of purple goods and, quite possibly these two--Euodia and Syntyche.  In time, this group of women formed a church, the very first Christian church in Europe, and began to do the Lord’s work there.

Finally, ten years later, while he was a prisoner in Rome, he wrote a letter to them.  He said, “Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus, to all the saints who are in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi…grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

And it was to them that he wrote:  “I thank my God in all my remembrance of you…because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now.”  He wrote, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”  And he wrote, “Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again, rejoice!”

And couched among his many words of love and praise and thanksgiving for the Christians who lived in Philippi, he took a moment to focus on a dispute between two women, Euodia and Syntyche.  Or, as another put it, “Odious and Soon-touchy.”

So who were they?  We guess they were two rather prominent women in the church, quite possibly two founding members, charter members.  They were there when Paul came down to the river to pray.  Everyone knew them, loved them and respected them.  Paul even went so far as to call them, “co-athletes,” “fellow workers,” women “who have labored side by side with me for the gospel.”  But somewhere, sometime, something changed.

Now we don’t know exactly what happened.  The Bible doesn’t say.  Maybe it was something as trivial as the fact that they couldn’t agree on colors used in the sanctuary or paint on the classroom walls.  Did one insist on the tradition of the elders, while the other insisted on the freedom of the gospel?  Maybe Euodia said something she didn’t mean to say and Syntyche took it wrong.  

But whatever it is, it was serious enough and divisive enough to cause a problem between the two.  And before anyone knew what was going on, Syntyche was going to a different Bible Study and Euodia sat on the opposite of church.  And before long, everyone began to notice that the two women were not getting along. 

And while the name Syntyche meant, “fortunate,” she became obstinate.  And while Euodia meant, “fragrance,” she was acting more like a “stinker.”  

And whatever it was that hurt them, that divided them, and that finally fractured them, fellow members couldn’t help but join along.  Emotions escalated.  Witness weakened.  Trust was compromised.  And faith was forgotten.  It was a disaster waiting to happen.  Finally, it became so serious, news of it reached all the way to Rome to the apostle Paul.

Now Paul could have ignored it.  He could have tried to keep it quiet, to find some way to cover it up.

But Paul wanted to remind them, and to remind us, that a dispute between two members was far more than it seemed.  It was an issue for the entire community of faith.  And that’s why he confronted Euodia and Syntyche in public—for all of time and for all of history to see.  For who would listen to the church’s message of hope, love, grace and redemption, if even Euodia and Syntyche couldn’t get along?

A teacher once asked his students how they could tell when night had ended and day was about to dawn.

One student said, “Could it be when you can see an animal in the distance and can tell whether it’s a sheep or a dog?”

“No,” answered the teacher.

“Could it be,” said another, “when you can look at a tree in the distance and tell if it’s a fig tree or a peach?”

“No,” answered the teacher.

“Then what is it?” asked his students.

“It’s when you look on the face of any man or woman and can see that he’s your brother and she’s your sister.  Because if you can’t do it, then no matter what time it is, it’s still dark.”

So what did Paul do?  How did he cool the conflict?

He didn’t take sides.  He didn’t say, “Euodia is right and Syntyche is wrong.”  Instead, he treated them both equally and tenderly.  He said, “I implore Euodia…I implore Syntyche…”  “I plead with you, I urge you, I beg you, please put your differences aside and get along.”

Why was it so important that they get along?  For the sake of the gospel.  For the sake of the church.  For the sake of Jesus.

That’s what he wrote:  “I entreat Euodia and I entreat Syntyche to agree in the Lord.”

He didn’t beg them to agree with each other, (maybe that could never happen, nor would it ever happen), but he did beg them to agree in the Lord.  

Even more, he begged the church to help them.  He wrote:  “Help these women, who have labored side by side with me in the gospel together with Clement and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are written in the book of life.”

The story is told of two brothers who couldn’t get along.  For over twenty years, they worked side-by-side, sharing equipment and helping each other when there was a need.

Until one day, a rift developed.  There was a small misunderstanding that grew into a major difference, and finally exploded into an exchange of bitter words and years of angry silence.

One day the eldest brother was out in his fields when a truck pulled up.  And out jumped a man carrying a carpenter’s toolbox.  He approached him and said, “I’m looking for a few days’ work.  Do you have any small jobs I could do for you?”

He answered, “You see that creek over there?  It’s the border between my brother’s farm and mine.  My brother keeps the water high to stop me from setting one foot on his beloved farm.  Well, I’ll show him.  I want you to take that timber over there and build a fence, a tall fence right along that creek, so I won’t have to look at my sorry excuse for a brother anymore.”

The carpenter was glad to have the work, so he answered, “No problem!  I understand.  Just point me to your post-hold digger and I’ll get the job done.”

As the carpenter set to work, the elder brother drove to town to the local cattle auction.  When he returned at sunset, he was shocked to see what the carpenter had done.

He didn’t build a fence.  He built a bridge.  Even more, at that very moment, his younger brother was walking across. 

He said, “After all this time, I can’t believe you’d still reach out to me.  You’re right.  I was wrong.  It’s time to bury the hatchet.”  And there, on that bridge, the brothers decided to get along.  

So how did things at Philippi turn out?  How did their story end?

We can’t be sure, but it would seem that Euodia and Syntyche did manage to get along.  For early in the second century, the church in Philippi wrote a letter to a pastor named Polycarp, to ask about a friend who had been arrested and taken to Rome.  

Now we don’t have their letter, but we do have the letter Polycarp wrote in return.  This is what he said:  “You have followed the example of true love and have helped on their way, as opportunity offered, those who were bound in chains.”  And he wrote, “I rejoice that your firmly rooted faith, renowned since early days, endures to the present and produces fruit for our Lord Jesus Christ.”

So did Euodia and Syntyche resolve their differences?  We can’t be sure, but perhaps Polycarp’s letter gives some assurance that they did.

What will be written about our congregation years down the line? 

More than anything, may we be known as a church that followed our Savior Jesus, that loved Him above all else, that obeyed His Word.  Then we’ll be the people He wants us to be and the church He’s called us to be.  And by His grace, even our names will be written in His book of life.

We thank You, dear Jesus, for the lessons we can learn from Euodia and Syntyche.  Bless us and help us to be the people You’ve called us to be as we seek to faithfully follow You.  This we ask in Your name.  Amen