1.26.20; One in Christ; Epiphany 3A; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson; ICCM
The story goes… A young rabbi found a serious problem in his new congregation. During the Friday service, half the congregation stood for the prayers and half remained seated, and each side shouted at the other, insisting that theirs was the true tradition. Nothing the rabbi said or did moved toward solving the impasse.
Finally, in desperation, the young rabbi sought out the synagogue’s 99-year-old founder. He met the old rabbi in the nursing home and poured out his troubles. “So tell me,” he pleaded, “was it the tradition for the congregation to stand during the prayers?”
“No,” answered the old rabbi.
“Ah,” responded the younger man, “then it was the tradition to sit during the prayers?”
“No,” answered the old rabbi.
“Well,” the young rabbi responded, “what we have is complete chaos! Half the people stand and shout, and the other half sit and scream.”
“Ah,” said the old man, “that was the tradition.”
When two or more are gathered, factions lurk in the midst of them, as Paul discovered. One of my best friends is a professional interim ministry, specializing in resolving conflict in congregations. It isn’t my cup of tea! There are steps to follow, profiles to complete, interviews to take, goals to establish. It’s a serious business.
Jesus didn’t seem to worry about any of it. When he said, “Follow me,” he apparently wasn’t concerned that these followers might not turn out to be model disciples. Indeed, they were often dense and hard to teach, and on the rare occasions when they did understand him they would usually try to talk him out of his ideas. They squabbled about who was greatest. One of them betrayed him. And no one stuck around when the going got tough.
Jesus simply said, “Follow me,” and something in the way he said it pointed to God so clearly that two, then four, then 12 decided that whatever Jesus had to offer was worth leaving their old lives for. And as far as Jesus was concerned, their willingness to get up and follow was credentials enough. He would make his community out of this diverse, contentious dozen.
Of course, Jesus had to live with this makeshift community of disciples for only three years. And whenever they wandered off course, he was right there to set them straight. The real problems began when he was gone, and they had to make decisions for the long haul. How do we admit the gentiles? What about those who teach a different gospel? Who is really in charge? Do we have to make a break with Judaism? The apostles held meetings, drew lots and trusted in the Holy Spirit’s lead. The infant church grew.
The Acts of the Apostles tells the story of that initial stage of the church. In the early 40’s Paul stayed with Priscilla and Aquila in Corinth, fellow handworkers. They lived in the small factory-shops alongside the other laborers. It was from that hardworking pagan community that Paul’s first converts were made. They were tough, poor, uncouth people.
When Paul tried to preach to the Jews in the synagogues he usually got thrown out. But in Corinth he was somewhat successful with that crowd, at least among the God worshippers. They were people who were not Jewish by birth but Gentiles who attached themselves by varying degrees to a synagogue. Paul converted a wealthy God-worshipper named Gaius Titius Justus, and a synagogue patron Crispus. By the time he wrote his letters to the church in Corinth 10 years later, there was another Jewish patron, Sosthenes.
The original poor, pagan, laborer converts were eating meals with the high-status wealthy people and their households. Ancient society was marked by great wealth disparity. The top 1.5% has over 20% of the resources, the next 10% consumed another 20%, leaving the bottom part of society living in constant hunger.
Spiritual gifts like speaking in tongues factored into the disarray too- as they were apparently praying so enthusiastically that their clothing would get disheveled and offend others’ sense of propriety. Some were shaming their spouses publicly, others were bringing lavish meals and gorging themselves while others were left hungry. It was a mess.
The congregation quarreled about class divisions, ethical issues and the qualifications for spiritual leadership, not to mention such daily concerns as what foods to eat. Paul struggled to get them back in agreement, offering specific advice when necessary. Most of all, though, he tried to knit them back together into a whole. They didn’t have Jesus’ physical presence with them. They themselves had to be the body of Christ now. The only way they could manage was to keep their eyes on the cross and love, love, love.
You are the people who walked in darkness and have seen a great light! You are the saved, the ransomed, baptized in the Lord Jesus! Don’t overshadow the glory of the gospel with divisions and quarrels!
“You are the light of the world,” Jesus told his followers. Unfortunately, the church doesn’t always act like the light of the world. There’s nothing quite like a church fight. We all know of places and times where conflicts split churches. But there are also moments when the fractures heal and the light shines through, times when together we accomplish far more than we could ever have managed alone. There are times, between and within our congregations, when we are truly more than the sum of our parts. The Spirit breathes through us and warms the darkening world. The light of Christ breaks forth like the dawn. We are caught up in some power beyond our individual selves, and we become the Body we are meant to be.
It’s only normal to label and draw boundaries. In childhood we form our identities by doing so—these are my people, my family, my tribe, my sect, my place. I am a Minnesotan of Norwegian descent, I am white, I am educated, I am Christian. We learn the power of naming and then we learn its perils. This sorting and separating is as old as humanity itself. Look at how strongly the naming part of the story figures in Genesis 2 and 3. It’s part of human development to name and claim our identity—the rub comes when we name one kind as blessed and elect while others become by default, pagan or savage, deluded or damned.
One of the real beauties of this congregation is the fact that we come from all over and we are used to certain ways of doing things wherever home has been. Here, we get to sing unfamiliar songs that are someone elses’ favorite one week and sing our own favorite songs another week. We focus on Christ—not on our particular doctrinal backgrounds. It’s a real treat to be here leading this very diverse congregation.
It’s quite liberating to not have a strict doctrinal standard here. Some sophisticated believers whose approach to faith incorporates astute thinking about psychology, theology, history or philosophy have room to grow when it comes to the practices of compassion and generosity. Others who approach faith more simply and from the heart have room to grow when it comes to depth in thinking critically. Some see faith as getting things right intellectually, others see faith as submission and surrender. The ways we read the scriptures differ, our views on Communion or Baptism may vary slightly. That’s ok.
Paul’s message was the same, in Ephesus, in Philippi, in Galatia and in Corinth: we are neither Jews nor Greeks, male nor female, slaves nor free, rich nor poor. We are all God’s children and heirs to the kingdom, sharing as we do a kinship of gifts, neither earned nor deserved, but ours all the same. No matter who we are or where we come from, no matter where we are in the journey of faith, we are all welcome. Praise be to God.
Let us pray, O great Love, thank you for living and loving in us and through us. May all that we do flow from our deep connection with you and all beings. Help us become a community that vulnerably shares each other’s burdens and the weight of glory. Listen to our hearts’ longing for the healing of our world. Knowing you are hearing us better than we are speaking, we offer these prayers in Jesus’ name. amen.