Sunday, February 1, 2015 | 8:00 a.m.
Shannon J. Kershner
Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church
Psalm 111
1 Corinthians 8:1–13
The kingdom of God isn’t announced with handshakes
(however momentous), political flourishes, or speeches that
move the heart. As in this place, it will be known in thorough
healing work: painstaking attention to particular bodies,
committed lives, strategic action; the binding and silencing . . .
of hatred and injustice that will not want to leave or lose their grip
—the mighty works, in daily life, of flourishing community.
Janet Morley
Companions of God
The Apostle Paul and I have had a few wrestling matches over the years. It would not surprise you to know that I have not always agreed with some of the things he has had to say, especially around the area of women’s leadership in church or place in the home. He just plain frustrates me sometimes. In one part of a letter he will seem to be challenging my God-given call to teach and preach in the church. But then in a different part of the same letter, he will announce with great passion that all of us make up the one body of Christ and we have all been given different gifts for the sole purpose of building up the body in love.
Paul frustrates me because he is usually trying to do two things at the same time. He is always trying to help his people think theologically or doctrinally: let’s call it big-picture faithfulness. But then, he also is always trying to respond pastorally to particular church situations: let’s call that situational faithfulness. And as we all know, sometimes those two responses do not go hand in hand. Therefore, as theologian J. Christiaan Beker writes, “Paul risks the charge of inconsistency, because there is no doctrinal principle or yardstick by which we can decide in advance when and where ‘principle’ prevails over ‘situation,’ or ‘truth of the gospel’ prevails over ‘the unity’ of the church” (J. Christiaan Beker, Paul the Apostle, p. 311).
This is the tension in today’s text. Now, I realize that this chapter in Corinthians sounds like a weird part of the letter with which we should wrestle. I agree. It is strange to our ears. Meat sacrificed to idols? Eating as a possible stumbling block for faith? In our country and in our time, it is an odd debate to overhear. And yet, I believe it continues to be instructive for us.
First, though, let me set the stage and offer a brief explanation of the context for this letter. Paul did in Corinth as he has had done in other cities: he started a church. And, as he had in other places, he stayed for a while, probably around eighteen months, so that he could impress upon the newly converted the importance of living their faith (Fred Craddock, Interpretation). Paul always preached the importance of living out the Lordship of Christ in all that one said and did—at home, in the marketplace, and, certainly, as a faith community.
But in addition to getting their theological house in order, Paul had to get their actual church house in order, too. Paul was the property committee, resource development committee, Christian education committee and churchwide officer nominating committee all rolled into one. So because he had all that work but very little time in each new church, Paul ended up doing a lot of ministry via letters. We have many of those letters gathered up as a part of our scripture. And from how Paul responds, it seems that the churches would make up a list of questions (or complaints) and send them to him for his wisdom and guidance.
That appears to be the case for this church in Corinth, Greece. Their letter (which we do not have) must have been line after line of questions, because Paul spends at least fourteen out of the sixteen chapters trying to tackle specific church fights while offering general theological guidance, or, his best judgment. They must have asked questions like, “If my spouse is not a Christian, should we stay together?” And, “May widows remarry?” “Since Jesus and Paul were single, is being married less spiritual?” They asked the questions about women taking the lead in worship, and, while you’re at it, Paul, please explain the resurrection of the body (Fred Craddock, “Occasion-Text-Sermon,” Interpretation, p. 67). This entire letter is full of Paul’s responses to the church fights and debates breaking out in that young church in Corinth. And this chapter, chapter 8, stands right in the center of the letter.
On the surface, here is the issue: Some members of the Corinthian church wanted to be free to eat food that they knew had been used in the worship of pagan idols. They felt it was unavoidable. The city of Corinth was chock-full of paganism and temples to this god or that god. That was the Greek culture and the dominant religion. Many of the people in the new Corinthian church had come from that culture and religious upbringing. Plus, the only social areas for gathering were banquet halls that were attached to these pagan temples. So if you bought meat in the marketplace (that is where the meat would go if it were not eaten at the ceremony), or if you attended a social event in the larger community, it was inevitable that you were eating food that had been sacrificed in idol worship. If you were eating meat in Corinth, that was your reality.
Now for some members in the Corinthian church, this was not an issue. They felt strong and grounded in their faith. They knew there was only one true God and that those idols were not divine. Therefore, regardless of where the meat had been, the meat was just meat and they did not want to waste good food. Their knowledge of the gospel gave them the freedom not to worry about it anymore.
But, just like in every church, there were other people in the Corinthian church who felt the exact opposite. They, too, felt strong and grounded in their faith. But they believed that if they were to eat that meat, it would lessen their devotion to God. Furthermore, they believed it would be a shaky witness to new Christians, because it made it look like idol worship could go hand in hand with Christianity. You see the struggle. So church members on both sides of this issue wanted Paul to tell them who was right and who was wrong. They needed to know.
First thing Paul says in response: I know that all of you possess knowledge. But know this: knowledge puffs up but love builds up. Paul wants to make sure that all of them who feel absolutely certain that they have it right, that their way is the correct way—the faithful way, that they are the strong ones—Paul wants all of them to do an arrogance check. “Anyone who claims to know with certainty,” Paul says, “does not have the necessary knowledge. But someone who loves God is known by God.” In other words, remember friends, God is the one who knows all. God is the omniscient one, not you.
After that introductory zinger, Paul then continues to hold up the tension between the necessity to hold strong theological beliefs and the call to love one another. Paul agrees that, from a purely theological standpoint, eating the meat is not a problem. It is not a diminishment of one’s loyalty to Christ. But from a love of neighbor standpoint, Paul concludes that eating the meat is not worth it. For even though those who were worried about eating the food were theologically incorrect, Paul determines that in this case, love for one another has to take precedence over principles.
“So those of you who feel that you are the strong ones,” he writes, “this freedom that comes from your theological certainty is going to have to take a back seat to your love for your brother or sister in faith.” As a follower of Christ, it is sometimes more important to be loving than it is to prove that one is right.
As a follower of Christ, it is sometimes more important to be loving than it is to prove that one is right. This Pauline conviction should not surprise us. This is the same letter that contains the words “Love does not insist on its own way.” As my friend Laura Mendenhall, the former President of Columbia Seminary, has preached, “And so while we acknowledge the importance of knowledge and of freedom [in our faith], we also acknowledge that what must determine our behavior is our love for one another. We are not free to think only of our own response to a situation. We have to take in account those affected by our actions. . . . There are limitations imposed by love.” As followers of Christ, it is sometimes more important to be loving than it is to prove that one is right.
These words came back into my mind when I began to read articles and watch videos of an event that unfolded at the Texas capitol in Austin late last week. For the last seven years, the Texan Chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations has hosted an event that brings together Muslim community members to learn about government and political engagement and to discuss issues with lawmakers (Dallas Morning News, 30 January 2015). The past six years of this event have gone peacefully.
This year, however, a group calling themselves the “Patriot Defense Foundation” interrupted their rally. One protestor took the microphone away from the speaker and announced that she proclaimed the name of the Lord Jesus Christ over the capitol of Texas and stood against Islam and the false prophet. She refused to move and continued to angrily shout her Christian viewpoint while other protestors yelled to the Muslims gathered, “We don’t want you here! Go home!” Needless to say, the children who were with their parents at the event grew visibly upset, and everyone appeared shaken. Of course, that event made the headlines all over, and that kind of exclusivist Christianity once again became held up as what Christians believe and how we act.
And I just kept thinking, Paul, what would you have done with that one? The woman was proclaiming the Lordship of Jesus Christ, one of Paul’s key theological claims of this letter, one of Christianity’s key theological claims. And yet, even though this particular incident in Texas was an interreligious one and Paul usually dealt with debates within the Christian family, I still think Paul might have responded to those Christian protestors the way he responded to the Christian Corinthians: “Anyone who claims to know with certainty does not have the necessary knowledge. But someone who loves God is known by God.”
In other words, no matter whether we are relating to someone within or outside our own faith tradition, we must always remember, like those Corinthians had to remember, that God is the one who knows all. God is the omniscient one. But besides that, God is not Christian. We are. God is God. So this need to prove that one is right, so much so that you would yell at kids and other people respectfully living their faith, well, that is not loving one’s neighbor. That is certainly not deciding it is more important to be loving than it is to prove that one is right. It is not Christ-like and God does not need that kind of protection.
If nothing else, in this chapter, Paul reminds us it matters to God how we treat one another—both inside the church and outside of it, too. It matters to God how we talk to and about one another. It matters to God how we love one another. As a matter of fact, as followers of Christ, it is sometimes more important to be loving than it is to prove that one is right. May we never stop asking “Is this is one of those times?” Amen.
Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church