Not Just Any Body, Christ's Body
Sermon
Sermons On The Second Readings
Series I, Cycle C
Let me offer you a hypothetical situation. Suppose you had a friend who was unfamiliar with the church. The person had never attended a worship service or sat in on a Sunday school class. He or she had never participated in any of the midweek fellowship activities or volunteered to help out with one of the mission trips. In effect, Christianity was a complete mystery to him/her. And so, more out of curiosity than anything else, the person asks you, "What exactly is the church?"
How would you respond? What would be your definition of church? I'm guessing that a lot of us might begin by explaining that the church is where those who hold a common conviction about Jesus Christ as their risen Savior come together. Typically that happens in a sanctuary on Sunday morning, but it's by no means limited to a steepled building with stained glass. Jesus said it could occur wherever two or more are gathered in his name (Matthew 18:20). Consequently, the church is not so much a particular place as it is a particular people who share the same faith and follow the same Lord and profess the same beliefs.
That would be a short and sweet definition for the church. But of course, like most short, sweet definitions, it doesn't really tell the whole story. Christians share some beliefs, to be sure. However, we are a long way from embracing every belief. In the United States alone, for example, there are over 900 Protestant denominations. There are Baptists, Methodists, and Episcopalians. There are Presbyterians, Lutherans, and Congregationalists. There are Seventh-day Adventists and Assembly of God, Moravians, and Quakers. And that's only for starters. It seems as if new denominations spring up, even as the old ones split up. Thus, the question is no longer: "Are you a Baptist?" but "What kind of Baptist?"
When Jesus took a loaf of bread and announced, "This is my body broken for you" (1 Corinthians 11:24), it's difficult to imagine that, even in his most cynical of moments, he would have ever envisioned the church we have today. But part of the reason for this diversity is that we all tend to have our different opinions. One group reads the Bible more literally than another. Some ordain women as ministers and some don't. The emphasis over here might be on salvation, while over there it's on social justice. Let's face it: it's not our beliefs that keep the church together. Most of the time just the opposite is true. Our beliefs are what tear us apart.
So, getting back to this imaginary friend who is inquiring about the church, what should we tell him/her? After all, if it's not our convictions that unite us as Christians, what is it? Some have suggested that it's our common work. In other words, despite our varied understandings of scripture and theology, every denomination still engages in some sort of mission. As a matter of fact, there are even occasions when we seem able to set our differences aside in order to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, care for the sick, and lift up the downtrodden and oppressed.
Perhaps then, it's not so much our shared beliefs that make us the "one holy, catholic church" -- as the Apostles' Creed puts it -- but our shared commitment to doing the work of Jesus Christ. The only difficulty I have with this definition is that, rather than saying too little, it almost says too much. Whether we like to admit it or not, the church has never had a patent on kindness, charity, and good will toward others. There are a lot of organizations which feed the hungry and shelter the homeless. They may not be doing it in the name of Jesus Christ (as we are), but they're doing it all the same.
Which, of course, returns us to the original question: only, by this time, it may not be just our hypothetical friend who is confused. Some of you may be wondering: What exactly is the church? Surely there must be something that holds us all together and makes us distinct -- whether we are Pentecostals or Presbyterians. Still, if it's not our common beliefs or our common work, what on earth would it be?
Well, according to the Apostle Paul, it's none other than Christ himself. "Now you are the body of Christ," he writes to the Corinthians, "and individually members of it" (v. 27). The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you." Nor should the head suggest to the feet, "Since we do different things, you should belong to a different body." It's all connected. Each part is indispensable to the whole, says Paul. The implication being that, in the church, rather than splitting into groups that think and act in a similar fashion, a better approach might actually be to seek out folks who have a different perspective and maybe even a different agenda. After all, you don't have a body -- or at least not a healthy one -- unless you have diversity.
It's a powerful image that rings true primarily because we recognize that, within our own physical bodies, there is an amazing diversity. Indeed, we depend upon it. Our liver is meant to function differently than our lungs, and none of us would want either of them suddenly swapping jobs. If our colon were trying to behave like our collarbone, or our ears like our elbows, we would be in a good deal of trouble (not to mention a great amount of pain). We even have parts that most of us don't know the names of, but, thankfully, they don't ever go on strike for being under-appreciated. They just keep on doing whatever it is they do to keep us alive. The bottom line is that we count on our individual parts operating independently, while at the same time working together. And we are quite content to live with such diversity, if for no other reason than we wouldn't live long without it!
It's when you take this analogy and apply it to the church that we start having problems. Apparently, we are able to handle internal variety much better than external variety. Frankly, a lot of us become a little uncomfortable when we run into people who look at the world differently than we do and express viewpoints that challenge our deeply cherished beliefs or disturb our well established routines. As Barbara Brown Taylor once put it, most conflicts in the church develop because "the brains want everybody to act like brains and the hearts wants everybody to act like hearts and there is always a hangnail who brings out the hangnail in everyone else."1
Paul's analogy of the church as a body may look great on paper. However, it begins to break down when you actually put it into practice. For example, he says that "if one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it" (v. 26 ). But let's be honest -- while I may feel sorry when you are hurting, if someone hits you in the arm, my skin is not going to bruise. Likewise, when you get a pay raise, my standard of living does not go up. The truth of the matter is that when one member of the church suffers, the vast majority don't even know about it, much less feel it. If somebody is honored, the rest of us may applaud, but we rarely experience the same joy that we would if we were receiving the recognition ourselves.
So, if it doesn't square with reality, why is Paul using this particular analogy? One possible reason is that the Corinthians were already familiar with it. Many of the famous Greek and Roman orators employed this same image to explain the nature of the state. In effect, they tried to persuade individual citizens that, just like the various parts of their bodies, the health and efficiency of the country required everyone staying on task and performing their different jobs. Hence, the idea of unity through diversity -- that is, functioning independently in order to work together -- would not have been seen by the Corinthians as a contradiction in terms. They were well aware that their very survival as a nation depended not so much upon their commonality, but upon their variety.
Paul simply takes this analogy and extends it from the country to the church -- only with one significant alteration. He no longer uses it as an analogy. Notice that Paul does not say, "You are like the body of Christ." He says, "You are the body of Christ." In other words, for Paul the question is not: "Do you want to be Christ's body?" That question has been rendered irrelevant, because whether we want to or not, we already are his body here on earth. A more appropriate question would be: "Are we ready to start acting like Christ's body?"
For instance, every once in a while, someone will tell me of a family who is worshiping elsewhere. "We lost another one to the Methodists," they'll say. But that's like the heart saying, "I keep losing blood to the legs," or the stomach saying, "I keep losing valuable nutrients to the muscles." If someone is serving Christ in a different congregation -- or for that matter, a different denomination -- we haven't lost them. We only lose them if, instead of going to church, they decide to sit at home on Sunday morning and read the newspaper.
The point is that we are all part of the same body. It makes no difference whether we realize it or not, whether we agree with it or not, whether we desire it or not. If Paul is correct, it's not something open for debate, which is why we are wasting our time whenever we get involved in these lengthy arguments of who should be in or out of the church. It's Christ's body; he decides. Period. Exclamation point. End of discussion.
Maybe the reason this analogy tends to break down is because it was never meant to be an analogy in the first place. Paul is not trying to describe the church. He wants to define it. Only his definition is not based on a particular philosophy or practice. It's based on the person of Jesus Christ. After all, it was never the disciples' idea to establish the church. They didn't come together the way like-minded people who share similar interests come together to form a club. Nor did they come together the way people with a common passion come together to lobby for a particular cause. They came together because Jesus called them to come together.
And the same is true of us. It's Christ who chose us, Christ who connects us, Christ who consecrates us. He's the one who makes us the holy, catholic church. So the next time someone asks you, "What exactly is the church?" You can tell them, "We are the body of Christ, and individually members of it."
____________
1. Barbara Brown Taylor, Bread of Angels (Boston: Cowley Publications, 1997), p. 87.
How would you respond? What would be your definition of church? I'm guessing that a lot of us might begin by explaining that the church is where those who hold a common conviction about Jesus Christ as their risen Savior come together. Typically that happens in a sanctuary on Sunday morning, but it's by no means limited to a steepled building with stained glass. Jesus said it could occur wherever two or more are gathered in his name (Matthew 18:20). Consequently, the church is not so much a particular place as it is a particular people who share the same faith and follow the same Lord and profess the same beliefs.
That would be a short and sweet definition for the church. But of course, like most short, sweet definitions, it doesn't really tell the whole story. Christians share some beliefs, to be sure. However, we are a long way from embracing every belief. In the United States alone, for example, there are over 900 Protestant denominations. There are Baptists, Methodists, and Episcopalians. There are Presbyterians, Lutherans, and Congregationalists. There are Seventh-day Adventists and Assembly of God, Moravians, and Quakers. And that's only for starters. It seems as if new denominations spring up, even as the old ones split up. Thus, the question is no longer: "Are you a Baptist?" but "What kind of Baptist?"
When Jesus took a loaf of bread and announced, "This is my body broken for you" (1 Corinthians 11:24), it's difficult to imagine that, even in his most cynical of moments, he would have ever envisioned the church we have today. But part of the reason for this diversity is that we all tend to have our different opinions. One group reads the Bible more literally than another. Some ordain women as ministers and some don't. The emphasis over here might be on salvation, while over there it's on social justice. Let's face it: it's not our beliefs that keep the church together. Most of the time just the opposite is true. Our beliefs are what tear us apart.
So, getting back to this imaginary friend who is inquiring about the church, what should we tell him/her? After all, if it's not our convictions that unite us as Christians, what is it? Some have suggested that it's our common work. In other words, despite our varied understandings of scripture and theology, every denomination still engages in some sort of mission. As a matter of fact, there are even occasions when we seem able to set our differences aside in order to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, care for the sick, and lift up the downtrodden and oppressed.
Perhaps then, it's not so much our shared beliefs that make us the "one holy, catholic church" -- as the Apostles' Creed puts it -- but our shared commitment to doing the work of Jesus Christ. The only difficulty I have with this definition is that, rather than saying too little, it almost says too much. Whether we like to admit it or not, the church has never had a patent on kindness, charity, and good will toward others. There are a lot of organizations which feed the hungry and shelter the homeless. They may not be doing it in the name of Jesus Christ (as we are), but they're doing it all the same.
Which, of course, returns us to the original question: only, by this time, it may not be just our hypothetical friend who is confused. Some of you may be wondering: What exactly is the church? Surely there must be something that holds us all together and makes us distinct -- whether we are Pentecostals or Presbyterians. Still, if it's not our common beliefs or our common work, what on earth would it be?
Well, according to the Apostle Paul, it's none other than Christ himself. "Now you are the body of Christ," he writes to the Corinthians, "and individually members of it" (v. 27). The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you." Nor should the head suggest to the feet, "Since we do different things, you should belong to a different body." It's all connected. Each part is indispensable to the whole, says Paul. The implication being that, in the church, rather than splitting into groups that think and act in a similar fashion, a better approach might actually be to seek out folks who have a different perspective and maybe even a different agenda. After all, you don't have a body -- or at least not a healthy one -- unless you have diversity.
It's a powerful image that rings true primarily because we recognize that, within our own physical bodies, there is an amazing diversity. Indeed, we depend upon it. Our liver is meant to function differently than our lungs, and none of us would want either of them suddenly swapping jobs. If our colon were trying to behave like our collarbone, or our ears like our elbows, we would be in a good deal of trouble (not to mention a great amount of pain). We even have parts that most of us don't know the names of, but, thankfully, they don't ever go on strike for being under-appreciated. They just keep on doing whatever it is they do to keep us alive. The bottom line is that we count on our individual parts operating independently, while at the same time working together. And we are quite content to live with such diversity, if for no other reason than we wouldn't live long without it!
It's when you take this analogy and apply it to the church that we start having problems. Apparently, we are able to handle internal variety much better than external variety. Frankly, a lot of us become a little uncomfortable when we run into people who look at the world differently than we do and express viewpoints that challenge our deeply cherished beliefs or disturb our well established routines. As Barbara Brown Taylor once put it, most conflicts in the church develop because "the brains want everybody to act like brains and the hearts wants everybody to act like hearts and there is always a hangnail who brings out the hangnail in everyone else."1
Paul's analogy of the church as a body may look great on paper. However, it begins to break down when you actually put it into practice. For example, he says that "if one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it" (v. 26 ). But let's be honest -- while I may feel sorry when you are hurting, if someone hits you in the arm, my skin is not going to bruise. Likewise, when you get a pay raise, my standard of living does not go up. The truth of the matter is that when one member of the church suffers, the vast majority don't even know about it, much less feel it. If somebody is honored, the rest of us may applaud, but we rarely experience the same joy that we would if we were receiving the recognition ourselves.
So, if it doesn't square with reality, why is Paul using this particular analogy? One possible reason is that the Corinthians were already familiar with it. Many of the famous Greek and Roman orators employed this same image to explain the nature of the state. In effect, they tried to persuade individual citizens that, just like the various parts of their bodies, the health and efficiency of the country required everyone staying on task and performing their different jobs. Hence, the idea of unity through diversity -- that is, functioning independently in order to work together -- would not have been seen by the Corinthians as a contradiction in terms. They were well aware that their very survival as a nation depended not so much upon their commonality, but upon their variety.
Paul simply takes this analogy and extends it from the country to the church -- only with one significant alteration. He no longer uses it as an analogy. Notice that Paul does not say, "You are like the body of Christ." He says, "You are the body of Christ." In other words, for Paul the question is not: "Do you want to be Christ's body?" That question has been rendered irrelevant, because whether we want to or not, we already are his body here on earth. A more appropriate question would be: "Are we ready to start acting like Christ's body?"
For instance, every once in a while, someone will tell me of a family who is worshiping elsewhere. "We lost another one to the Methodists," they'll say. But that's like the heart saying, "I keep losing blood to the legs," or the stomach saying, "I keep losing valuable nutrients to the muscles." If someone is serving Christ in a different congregation -- or for that matter, a different denomination -- we haven't lost them. We only lose them if, instead of going to church, they decide to sit at home on Sunday morning and read the newspaper.
The point is that we are all part of the same body. It makes no difference whether we realize it or not, whether we agree with it or not, whether we desire it or not. If Paul is correct, it's not something open for debate, which is why we are wasting our time whenever we get involved in these lengthy arguments of who should be in or out of the church. It's Christ's body; he decides. Period. Exclamation point. End of discussion.
Maybe the reason this analogy tends to break down is because it was never meant to be an analogy in the first place. Paul is not trying to describe the church. He wants to define it. Only his definition is not based on a particular philosophy or practice. It's based on the person of Jesus Christ. After all, it was never the disciples' idea to establish the church. They didn't come together the way like-minded people who share similar interests come together to form a club. Nor did they come together the way people with a common passion come together to lobby for a particular cause. They came together because Jesus called them to come together.
And the same is true of us. It's Christ who chose us, Christ who connects us, Christ who consecrates us. He's the one who makes us the holy, catholic church. So the next time someone asks you, "What exactly is the church?" You can tell them, "We are the body of Christ, and individually members of it."
____________
1. Barbara Brown Taylor, Bread of Angels (Boston: Cowley Publications, 1997), p. 87.
