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A university president, as was his custom, attended the mid-week worship service in his institution's chapel. As he sat in the pew, he could not help but notice a reaction from two coeds seated directly in front of him. Midway through the chaplain's sermon, one of the young women wrote a message on the cover of her bulletin. She quickly passed it over to her fellow student. When she read the message, the reader turned to the sender and nodded vigorously. At the conclusion of the service the two students departed the chapel, leaving their bulletin on the pew. The curious president wandered over and picked it up. On the front of the bulletin were scrawled these words: "Why do they always have to talk about drinking and sex?"

Indeed, why do "they" always have to speak of such things as an expression of a central biblical principle for Christian living? In the context of a society in which the abuse of alcohol is such a serious problem, the New Testament epistles turn to the subject with frequent and consistent advice. In 1 Timothy among the characteristics listed for those who would be leaders in the church is that they be "not given to drunkenness" (3:3) or "not indulge in much wine" (3:8). In advice given to Titus, elders are to be examples who are "not given to drunkenness" (1:7) and the elder women in the church are to be taught not to be "addicted to much wine" (2:3). This central principle of Christian life surfaces again in today's text -- "Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery."

Certainly a word of caution is here. We are urged to exercise discrimination concerning our own behavior. Christians are called to be self-reflective. This is hardly fresh news to our listening ears. It certainly was not fresh news to the Ephesians. The Jewish wisdom literature had long since recognized the folly of drunkenness and Jesus himself had warned his disciples against drunkenness.

Aside from the fact that scriptural warnings have been issued as negative reflections on first and twenty-first century cultures themselves, perhaps there are deeper issues that we need to examine. This season of Ordinary Time is a good time to focus on some of the hard, practical realties of life. Separated a bit from the highly focused seasons of Christmas and Easter, these days are good days for focusing on caution, discernment, and meaningful worship.

Founders of democracy have often been as dismal about the human condition as have founders of religions. Thomas Paine, one of America's Founders, once stated: "Society is produced by our wants and government by our wickedness."1 Certainly we can say that you and I populate churches out of our wants and needs. While churches may not always make us and our society more civil, they certainly expose the health of the societies in which they operate.

In sounding our word of caution we should also sound a word of opportunity. The church, even in this text for today, has never offered a mandate for Christians to withdraw from an evil society as though they were fanatics or ascetics. Whatever moral guidelines are laced throughout the Bible are constructed on the assumption that you and I can live a full Christian life in the context of "this world."2

Scripture always beckons us to look at the world through analytical lenses. Caution and opportunity go hand in hand. Both are necessary to protect us from a fragmented sense of reality that destroys the wonder of life.

Appropriately this scripture moves from a tone of caution about personal behavior to an emphasis on building up our lives through worship and personal reflection. This thrust is almost to say: "Here's a problem; here's the world; here's what you can do to make a difference to yourself, to others, and to that world."

When a writer or a teacher lays out a moral problem and contends that humans can be filled with a spirit and practice that can move their lives in other directions, that is good news. The good news is that love can be learned. With every caution there is an opportunity to do better.

In essence, that is much of what the Bible is about. People can learn. Abraham wasn't a spontaneous lover but he learned how to love. Jacob and Isaac and Moses were not instant lovers but they learned how to love. Peter and John and Paul and all the rest of the people Jesus affected were not spontaneous lovers but they learned how to love. Love can be learned. And we can learn how, too!

Fear is learned. War is learned. Prejudice is learned. Hate is learned. The Good News of the Bible is that love can be learned, too. That is the greatest hope in the world -- even in the worst of circumstances. There is always the possibility that somewhere, at some time out there in the future, people can learn to love.

Sara Jewett tells the story of a woman who ascended the pathway leading to the home of a retired sea captain in the state of Maine. On the way, the woman sees a number of wooden stakes scattered about the property with no discernible order. Each stake is painted white and trimmed in yellow, like the captain's house. With great curiosity and no small bewilderment, she asks the captain what they mean. He explains. When he first plowed the ground, his plow snagged on many large rocks just below the surface. So he set out stakes where the rocks lay in order to avoid them in the future. That way he did not have to relearn where every rock was every time he plowed.3

The captain's caution gives him the opportunity to farm productively in what might otherwise be an inhospitable environment. So it is with our world, according to the scriptures. Evil is there, both within and without, for us. But that which is learned can be unlearned, or at least controlled. Christians are urged not only to be cautious as to their lifestyle but to put out stakes of opportunity: "Speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Caution and opportunity serve us well in any endeavor. For sixteen years the North Carolina Museum of Art displayed one of its treasures, Cranach's Madonna and Child. The painting dated to the sixteenth century. Unaware of any problems with its provenance or history, the museum had displayed the painting in its European galleries since it was attributed to a major artist of the German Renaissance.

In the spring of 1999 the museum received a letter from an agency of the World Jewish Congress. The agency informed the museum that the painting had been illegally expropriated by the Nazis from an Austrian Jewish family.4

Obviously this was startling news. After a year of painstaking work, museum officials determined that the rightful owners were two sisters in Austria who were heirs of the Gomperz family estate. Deciding to proceed "with caution" concerning the moral dilemma, the museum returned the painting to the sisters.

In an equally startling development, the two sisters sold the painting back to the same museum at half its appraised value.

Now the devotional image of the Madonna and infant Jesus proudly resides in a state capitol museum, affording thousands the
opportunity not only to view a masterpiece but to reflect on the outcome of an institution's ethical caution.

Christians in every age are confronted with inhospitable environments and histories. Over time the spirit which builds up and does what is right stands above the evil which assails it.


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1. Thomas Paine as quoted by Robert D. Kaplain in his article and address, "Was Democracy Just a Moment?"

2. Ralph P. Martin, Ephesians, Colossians, and Philemon: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1991), pp. 62-63. Martin addresses the various methods the author of the text tries to recall readers to their Christian status and vocation.

3. Sara Orne Jewett's novel is The Country of the Pointed Firs.

4. "Museum Completes Research Into Painting's History," a press release by the North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh, North Carolina.