The Multitasking Church
Sermon
Sermons On The Second Readings
Series I, Cycle C
For the next six Sundays we will be looking at passages from the concluding chapters of the First Letter to the Corinthians. That being the case, I thought it worthwhile to give you a little background on the circumstances that prompted Paul to write this epistle.
One needs only to consider the geography of Greece to appreciate why Corinth was destined to become the commercial capital of the Mediterranean. Situated on a narrow isthmus, the city literally bridged northern Greece with the southern Peloponnesian peninsula, and because the isthmus was just four miles across from sea to shining sea, it was also easily accessible to both the Adriatic and the Aegean. As a result, almost everything that could be bought, sold, or traded eventually made its way through there. A quick trip to the market, for example, would allow you the opportunity to sample Phoenician dates, or barter for Libyan ivory, or check out an authentic Cilician goats' hair blanket. In effect, Corinth was where the ancient world went shopping.
Unfortunately, exotic merchandise wasn't the only thing being offered at bargain basement prices. It was widely held that moral standards and common decency had been drastically discounted as well. Ever since the time of Aristophanes, the city claimed the rare distinction of actually having its name turned into a verb. To "corinthianize" was a slang term which meant "to go to the dogs" -- presumably because it was wild, ravenous beasts that would most feel at home there.
The population was largely immigrant, as merchants and mariners drifted in from all directions, toting their foreign gods along with them -- Artemis from Ephesus, Astarte from Syria, Iris and Seraphis from Egypt. There was a veritable smorgasbord of deities to choose from, and towering above them all, perched atop a summit known as Acrocorinth, stood a temple dedicated to the love goddess Aphrodite. It was said to have been frequented by over 1,000 sacred prostitutes and no telling how many lustful worshipers. In a sense, though, the temple epitomized what the city itself had become -- a town where pretty much everything was for sale.
It would be difficult to imagine a more unlikely location for a New Church Development. Indeed, one of the common proverbs in those days was, "Not everybody should go to Corinth!" And there were probably times when Paul wished he'd taken that advice to heart. He arrived around 50 A.D., following a rather disappointing stint in Athens, where most folks simply laughed at his absurd babbling about a man risen from the dead. Why he happened to select Corinth as his next stop is anyone's guess. But then again, perhaps Paul figured that in a city willing to buy just about anything, his message stood a better chance of being received.
At any rate, he wound up staying with a couple named Priscilla and Aquilla, who had fled to Corinth after Emperor Claudius decided to clear all the Jews out of Rome. We're not exactly sure how Paul came to know the two of them. However, since they were tentmakers like him, he may have worked at their shop in exchange for room and board. They soon introduced him to the neighborhood synagogue, and being a distinguished guest, Paul was given the honor of addressing the congregation. He basically delivered the same sermon that he had preached back at the Areopagus. The only difference was that while the Athenians had been amused, the Corinthians were not. They were horrified at Paul's insistence that a relatively unknown Nazarene named Jesus, who had been executed as a seditious criminal some twenty years earlier, was none other than the long-awaited Messiah. To put it bluntly, the suggestion that a crucified felon could somehow be God's chosen One was beyond ludicrous; it was downright blasphemous.
In fact, it created so much controversy that Paul was promptly informed that, not only were they not interested in hearing him again, they didn't particularly care to see him anymore either. He may have been a visitor in those parts, but he had worn out his welcome with them, and in no uncertain terms, he was told to move on. So that's precisely what Paul did -- except he didn't end up moving very far. He started a church next door to the synagogue in the house of one Titus Justus, and within a matter of weeks it was already filled with Jewish converts, including a man named Crispus, who had been the synagogue's leading ruler.
Paul worked with them for about a year and a half, preaching the gospel and teaching them the fundamentals of Christian theology. Eventually, though, he felt the call to continue his missionary activities elsewhere and bid the tiny congregation farewell. After a brief stop in the harbor town of Cenchreae, Paul sailed eastward across the Aegean and ultimately settled in Ephesus (just outside of what is today Izmir, Turkey). It was there, a few months later, that he received an anxious letter telling him, in effect, that if he were to return to Corinth he would likely find more than one church. Apparently, they had started to splinter into different denominations, tragically foreshadowing what continues to occur within Christianity even today.
One group followed Paul, another his successor Apollos, still another the Apostle Peter, and yet a fourth group of gnostics rallied around a spiritualized version of Jesus Christ -- whom they claimed didn't actually die upon the cross, since he was never a real, flesh-and-blood person in the first place. To complicate matters even further, there were also a number of charismatics who specialized in prophecy and speaking in tongues, and who tended to turn every worship service into either a skills competition or a talent show. One member of the congregation was openly living with his stepmother as husband and wife. Some folks were treating the Lord's Supper with all the dignity of a spring break fraternity party. Others had concluded that the way to attract a more sophisticated clientele was to rule out the resurrection altogether. And on and on it went. Apart from that, things were going just fine!
Paul's response to this whole convoluted mess is what we now know as First Corinthians. Obviously, he was disappointed to learn what had taken place there since his departure. However, he doesn't appear to be terribly interested in analyzing how things could have disintegrated so quickly. What he does instead is to offer them a refresher course in "Christianity 101." In other words, rather than trying to sort out a situation that was already sordid enough, he almost immediately turns his attention to getting them back on track.
One by one, he addresses each of their concerns and even expresses some of his own. He tackles questions about sex and marriage, the proliferation of lawsuits, the role of women in the church, the eating of food dedicated to idols, and the etiquette of celebrating Holy Communion, to name just a few. But while Paul is happy enough to provide his two cents on all of these practical matters, for him there was actually a deeper issue at stake. The real question was not "What must we do?" or even "How should we behave?" but "To whom do we belong?"
Paul makes that clear at the letter's outset. He willingly concedes that, in most respects, the Corinthians were no better than anybody else. In fact, as far as the world was concerned, they were considerably worse. "Not many of you were wise by human standards," he reminds them, "not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth" (1 Corinthians 1:26). All of which was true, of course. This was basically a blue-collar congregation, consisting of slaves, dockhands, artisans, housewives, and what have you. None of them were ever going to be confused with the city's elite and well established. Nor would they have even dreamed of making such a claim.
Nevertheless, what Paul hopes they will keep in mind is that the risen Lord has made a claim upon them. They have been sanctified in Jesus Christ. "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's spirit dwells in you?" he asks at one point (1 Corinthians 3:16). Regardless of how the world happened to view them, Paul wants the Corinthians to realize that they are not nobodies; they are somebodies. More precisely, they are Christ's body! Which is why their current behavior strikes him as so unseemly. If this was their idea of being the body of Christ -- his eyes, his mouth, his hands -- then all they have done is to create the impression that our Savior was blind, tongue-tied, and all thumbs.
But what disturbed Paul even more was their incessant and rather infantile squabbling over spiritual gifts. As we read, he first broaches this issue at the beginning of chapter 12. "I do not want you to be uninformed," he writes. "Therefore I want you to understand that no one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says, 'Let Jesus be cursed!' and no one can say, 'Jesus is Lord,' except by the Holy Spirit" (v. 3). That was the dividing line for Paul; and mind you, it's the only one he offers. He doesn't mention any of the categories that so many of today's denominations seem eager to establish -- liberal versus conservative, contemporary worship versus traditional, pro-choice versus pro-life, those who desire to change ordination standards versus those who strive for ethical consistency among the clergy.
Please don't get the wrong idea. I'm not trying to minimize these differences. They are very real, and they make the road ahead an extremely perilous one. These are difficult times for the church, to be sure. Many are the controversies, varied are the passions and special interests, diverse are the opinions, and deep is the pain -- on all sides! However, what I hear Paul saying in this passage is that going our separate ways is not an acceptable option. Simply put: it's not our decision to make. After all, we didn't choose to be a part of the body; Christ chose us (John 15:16).
The one distinguishing characteristic of Christianity, according to Paul, is the declaration of Jesus Christ as Lord. There may be some who proclaim beliefs that sound un-Christian to you. There may even be some who practice what strike you as blatantly un-Christian behaviors. And in fact, you may be correct in your assessment. But as wrong as those beliefs and behaviors may be, it does not give any of us the right to exclude such ones from the church. If they profess Jesus Christ as their Lord, they are still part of the body.
Of course, this doesn't mean that we should just ignore our differences. Denial doesn't serve truth any more than avoidance solves conflict. Paul is not suggesting that we stop challenging and correcting one another. This entire letter is filled with corrective advice, often stated in the strongest terms possible. What Paul is pointing out, however, is that we can admonish our fellow Christians, while at the same time affirming them as fellow Christians. As he goes on to explain, "There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone" (vv. 4-5).
The operative word here is "varieties." Most churches do a fairly good job of emphasizing that we all have our unique gifts and abilities. But equally important is the fact that there are different avenues of service and different types of activities. I suppose you could argue that if everyone is doing one's own thing, it's liable to send the church in divergent directions. But then again, just as our own bodies are capable of performing more than one task -- such as, let's say, chewing gum and walking at the same time -- it seems reasonable to think that the body of Christ is also perfectly able to perform a multitude of complex and even contrary tasks.
Indeed, if the Christian community is to bear witness to all people, it may actually require this kind of variety. Thus, rather than being suspicious or resentful of other Christians who bear their witness in ways different from our own, why should we not be grateful for them? After all, they may be able to do and say things that we cannot and reach people that we haven't yet. Despite our differences, insists Paul, we still affirm fundamentally the same thing -- that Jesus Christ is Lord and head of the church.
Fred Craddock once shared an insightful story about the construction of two houses in his neighborhood. In the case of one, he observed that the builder was carefully examining each stone, in order to make sure that they were exactly the same. However, he wasn't using any mortar. He was just placing them one on top of another. Craddock remarked that that was a rather unconventional practice. "What's going to keep those stones together?" he asked. "They're all identical" was the reply.
Meanwhile, across the street, a second builder was making use of the very stones that the first fellow had rejected. His were a hodgepodge assortment of different shapes and sizes. In fact, they didn't even look like they belonged together. "You'll have trouble getting those to stay," Craddock said. "No, I won't," the builder explained, "because I've got something here to hold them in place."
Craddock wondered what it might be. "He didn't call it mortar," Craddock acknowledged. "From what I could tell, it seemed like he referred to it as Christian love. And sure enough, within a matter of days, the first house was rubble, and the other stood tall and proud."
The Apostle Paul seems convinced that if we can faithfully and lovingly continue to serve together, study together, and even struggle together -- we ought to be able to stay together. For in so doing, we truly become the church that Christ built upon the solid rock and against which even the fiercest storms of conflict shall never prevail.
One needs only to consider the geography of Greece to appreciate why Corinth was destined to become the commercial capital of the Mediterranean. Situated on a narrow isthmus, the city literally bridged northern Greece with the southern Peloponnesian peninsula, and because the isthmus was just four miles across from sea to shining sea, it was also easily accessible to both the Adriatic and the Aegean. As a result, almost everything that could be bought, sold, or traded eventually made its way through there. A quick trip to the market, for example, would allow you the opportunity to sample Phoenician dates, or barter for Libyan ivory, or check out an authentic Cilician goats' hair blanket. In effect, Corinth was where the ancient world went shopping.
Unfortunately, exotic merchandise wasn't the only thing being offered at bargain basement prices. It was widely held that moral standards and common decency had been drastically discounted as well. Ever since the time of Aristophanes, the city claimed the rare distinction of actually having its name turned into a verb. To "corinthianize" was a slang term which meant "to go to the dogs" -- presumably because it was wild, ravenous beasts that would most feel at home there.
The population was largely immigrant, as merchants and mariners drifted in from all directions, toting their foreign gods along with them -- Artemis from Ephesus, Astarte from Syria, Iris and Seraphis from Egypt. There was a veritable smorgasbord of deities to choose from, and towering above them all, perched atop a summit known as Acrocorinth, stood a temple dedicated to the love goddess Aphrodite. It was said to have been frequented by over 1,000 sacred prostitutes and no telling how many lustful worshipers. In a sense, though, the temple epitomized what the city itself had become -- a town where pretty much everything was for sale.
It would be difficult to imagine a more unlikely location for a New Church Development. Indeed, one of the common proverbs in those days was, "Not everybody should go to Corinth!" And there were probably times when Paul wished he'd taken that advice to heart. He arrived around 50 A.D., following a rather disappointing stint in Athens, where most folks simply laughed at his absurd babbling about a man risen from the dead. Why he happened to select Corinth as his next stop is anyone's guess. But then again, perhaps Paul figured that in a city willing to buy just about anything, his message stood a better chance of being received.
At any rate, he wound up staying with a couple named Priscilla and Aquilla, who had fled to Corinth after Emperor Claudius decided to clear all the Jews out of Rome. We're not exactly sure how Paul came to know the two of them. However, since they were tentmakers like him, he may have worked at their shop in exchange for room and board. They soon introduced him to the neighborhood synagogue, and being a distinguished guest, Paul was given the honor of addressing the congregation. He basically delivered the same sermon that he had preached back at the Areopagus. The only difference was that while the Athenians had been amused, the Corinthians were not. They were horrified at Paul's insistence that a relatively unknown Nazarene named Jesus, who had been executed as a seditious criminal some twenty years earlier, was none other than the long-awaited Messiah. To put it bluntly, the suggestion that a crucified felon could somehow be God's chosen One was beyond ludicrous; it was downright blasphemous.
In fact, it created so much controversy that Paul was promptly informed that, not only were they not interested in hearing him again, they didn't particularly care to see him anymore either. He may have been a visitor in those parts, but he had worn out his welcome with them, and in no uncertain terms, he was told to move on. So that's precisely what Paul did -- except he didn't end up moving very far. He started a church next door to the synagogue in the house of one Titus Justus, and within a matter of weeks it was already filled with Jewish converts, including a man named Crispus, who had been the synagogue's leading ruler.
Paul worked with them for about a year and a half, preaching the gospel and teaching them the fundamentals of Christian theology. Eventually, though, he felt the call to continue his missionary activities elsewhere and bid the tiny congregation farewell. After a brief stop in the harbor town of Cenchreae, Paul sailed eastward across the Aegean and ultimately settled in Ephesus (just outside of what is today Izmir, Turkey). It was there, a few months later, that he received an anxious letter telling him, in effect, that if he were to return to Corinth he would likely find more than one church. Apparently, they had started to splinter into different denominations, tragically foreshadowing what continues to occur within Christianity even today.
One group followed Paul, another his successor Apollos, still another the Apostle Peter, and yet a fourth group of gnostics rallied around a spiritualized version of Jesus Christ -- whom they claimed didn't actually die upon the cross, since he was never a real, flesh-and-blood person in the first place. To complicate matters even further, there were also a number of charismatics who specialized in prophecy and speaking in tongues, and who tended to turn every worship service into either a skills competition or a talent show. One member of the congregation was openly living with his stepmother as husband and wife. Some folks were treating the Lord's Supper with all the dignity of a spring break fraternity party. Others had concluded that the way to attract a more sophisticated clientele was to rule out the resurrection altogether. And on and on it went. Apart from that, things were going just fine!
Paul's response to this whole convoluted mess is what we now know as First Corinthians. Obviously, he was disappointed to learn what had taken place there since his departure. However, he doesn't appear to be terribly interested in analyzing how things could have disintegrated so quickly. What he does instead is to offer them a refresher course in "Christianity 101." In other words, rather than trying to sort out a situation that was already sordid enough, he almost immediately turns his attention to getting them back on track.
One by one, he addresses each of their concerns and even expresses some of his own. He tackles questions about sex and marriage, the proliferation of lawsuits, the role of women in the church, the eating of food dedicated to idols, and the etiquette of celebrating Holy Communion, to name just a few. But while Paul is happy enough to provide his two cents on all of these practical matters, for him there was actually a deeper issue at stake. The real question was not "What must we do?" or even "How should we behave?" but "To whom do we belong?"
Paul makes that clear at the letter's outset. He willingly concedes that, in most respects, the Corinthians were no better than anybody else. In fact, as far as the world was concerned, they were considerably worse. "Not many of you were wise by human standards," he reminds them, "not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth" (1 Corinthians 1:26). All of which was true, of course. This was basically a blue-collar congregation, consisting of slaves, dockhands, artisans, housewives, and what have you. None of them were ever going to be confused with the city's elite and well established. Nor would they have even dreamed of making such a claim.
Nevertheless, what Paul hopes they will keep in mind is that the risen Lord has made a claim upon them. They have been sanctified in Jesus Christ. "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's spirit dwells in you?" he asks at one point (1 Corinthians 3:16). Regardless of how the world happened to view them, Paul wants the Corinthians to realize that they are not nobodies; they are somebodies. More precisely, they are Christ's body! Which is why their current behavior strikes him as so unseemly. If this was their idea of being the body of Christ -- his eyes, his mouth, his hands -- then all they have done is to create the impression that our Savior was blind, tongue-tied, and all thumbs.
But what disturbed Paul even more was their incessant and rather infantile squabbling over spiritual gifts. As we read, he first broaches this issue at the beginning of chapter 12. "I do not want you to be uninformed," he writes. "Therefore I want you to understand that no one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says, 'Let Jesus be cursed!' and no one can say, 'Jesus is Lord,' except by the Holy Spirit" (v. 3). That was the dividing line for Paul; and mind you, it's the only one he offers. He doesn't mention any of the categories that so many of today's denominations seem eager to establish -- liberal versus conservative, contemporary worship versus traditional, pro-choice versus pro-life, those who desire to change ordination standards versus those who strive for ethical consistency among the clergy.
Please don't get the wrong idea. I'm not trying to minimize these differences. They are very real, and they make the road ahead an extremely perilous one. These are difficult times for the church, to be sure. Many are the controversies, varied are the passions and special interests, diverse are the opinions, and deep is the pain -- on all sides! However, what I hear Paul saying in this passage is that going our separate ways is not an acceptable option. Simply put: it's not our decision to make. After all, we didn't choose to be a part of the body; Christ chose us (John 15:16).
The one distinguishing characteristic of Christianity, according to Paul, is the declaration of Jesus Christ as Lord. There may be some who proclaim beliefs that sound un-Christian to you. There may even be some who practice what strike you as blatantly un-Christian behaviors. And in fact, you may be correct in your assessment. But as wrong as those beliefs and behaviors may be, it does not give any of us the right to exclude such ones from the church. If they profess Jesus Christ as their Lord, they are still part of the body.
Of course, this doesn't mean that we should just ignore our differences. Denial doesn't serve truth any more than avoidance solves conflict. Paul is not suggesting that we stop challenging and correcting one another. This entire letter is filled with corrective advice, often stated in the strongest terms possible. What Paul is pointing out, however, is that we can admonish our fellow Christians, while at the same time affirming them as fellow Christians. As he goes on to explain, "There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone" (vv. 4-5).
The operative word here is "varieties." Most churches do a fairly good job of emphasizing that we all have our unique gifts and abilities. But equally important is the fact that there are different avenues of service and different types of activities. I suppose you could argue that if everyone is doing one's own thing, it's liable to send the church in divergent directions. But then again, just as our own bodies are capable of performing more than one task -- such as, let's say, chewing gum and walking at the same time -- it seems reasonable to think that the body of Christ is also perfectly able to perform a multitude of complex and even contrary tasks.
Indeed, if the Christian community is to bear witness to all people, it may actually require this kind of variety. Thus, rather than being suspicious or resentful of other Christians who bear their witness in ways different from our own, why should we not be grateful for them? After all, they may be able to do and say things that we cannot and reach people that we haven't yet. Despite our differences, insists Paul, we still affirm fundamentally the same thing -- that Jesus Christ is Lord and head of the church.
Fred Craddock once shared an insightful story about the construction of two houses in his neighborhood. In the case of one, he observed that the builder was carefully examining each stone, in order to make sure that they were exactly the same. However, he wasn't using any mortar. He was just placing them one on top of another. Craddock remarked that that was a rather unconventional practice. "What's going to keep those stones together?" he asked. "They're all identical" was the reply.
Meanwhile, across the street, a second builder was making use of the very stones that the first fellow had rejected. His were a hodgepodge assortment of different shapes and sizes. In fact, they didn't even look like they belonged together. "You'll have trouble getting those to stay," Craddock said. "No, I won't," the builder explained, "because I've got something here to hold them in place."
Craddock wondered what it might be. "He didn't call it mortar," Craddock acknowledged. "From what I could tell, it seemed like he referred to it as Christian love. And sure enough, within a matter of days, the first house was rubble, and the other stood tall and proud."
The Apostle Paul seems convinced that if we can faithfully and lovingly continue to serve together, study together, and even struggle together -- we ought to be able to stay together. For in so doing, we truly become the church that Christ built upon the solid rock and against which even the fiercest storms of conflict shall never prevail.
