Sermon: Epiphany 3

Belonging to Each Other
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Epiphany 3, Year A (RCL)
1 Corinthians 1:10-18

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."

Whether in a synagogue or at a church, two thousands years ago or today, difference has always been a part of religion. Some do it one way, others another, and ever the two shall argue about which way is the most pleasing, the best way, the right way. And if it’s not about sitting or standing for the prayers, then it’s about who was baptized by whom. This is where we find Paul today as he sits down to write his letter to the good people of Corinth. As he writes, there are quarrels among them, with some claiming to belong to Paul, others to Apollos, others to Cephas, and still others to Christ. In essence, the Corinthians are jockeying for position in the name of those who baptized them; they are claiming their allegiance to one part of the church at the expense of the other. It would be like some of you here today saying, I belong to Al Smith, or I belong to Molly, or I belong to Kipper, or I belong to Fr. Ken. Whether through our posture for prayer or through who baptized us at our beginning, sadly, the church has a history of difference leading to division, of preference for some leading to the expense of others.

A couple of weeks ago, I got an email, a modern day epistle which seems quite similar to Paul’s dilemma, so I’ll share it with you. It was an email from former parishioners, who are also good friends, who now live in Michigan. As it turns out, they will be visiting Cincinnati in March at the exact time that Natalie and the girls and I will be in town. Since I baptized their oldest daughter who was born just after Emma, they wanted to know if while I was there I’d be willing to baptize their other daughter as well. They knew that having the baptism at my former parish wasn’t a possibility, so they suggested having a private baptism in their parent’s home or at a park. For them, what was most important was their personal relationship with their priest, not so much their potential relationship with their new parish family. For me, what I’ll need to convey to them when I respond to their email is that baptism isn’t about who baptized or baptizes you, it’s about the Spirit of God with which you are baptized and about the cloud of witnesses that stands with you that day and forevermore.

I believe what Paul was trying to tell the Corinthians is that the church isn’t about who baptized you or who you belong to, but about how we as a community of faith get along together. Despite how it seems, the church isn’t about personalities; it isn’t about how scholarly Paul was in his writings or about how charismatic Apollos was in his preaching. It isn’t about how dynamic Al Smith was, or creative Molly was, or organized Kipper was, or whatever I am. Yes, it’s about the personalities of priests, but it’s more than that. It’s about how you and I, how all of us work together, get along together. The church isn’t about my baptizing my friend’s daughter in private, it’s about my encouraging them to find a church in their own community in Michigan where she can be baptized and celebrated and cherished in only the way a close church family can.

The church also isn’t about who sits and who stands for the prayers. Just as personalities can distract us, so too can tradition cloud our vision. I’m not saying that tradition is wrong or bad, I don’t believe that. I’m just troubled by how it can sometimes become a god in and of itself, much like the personalities of priests and parishioners. “We’ve always done it that way” often times becomes a protective coating on our faith. Yet whether you stand and I sit to pray, or I sit and you kneel, it doesn’t really matter. Whether you like the homemade bread that the altar guild makes or the stale, Necco wafer hosts that other churches use, it doesn’t really matter. Whether you say the contemporary version of the Lord’s Prayer and I say the traditional, it’s still the prayer Jesus taught us to pray. Whether you like the silence of the early 8am service, the creative chaos of the 9:15am service, or the more traditional taste of the 11am service, it doesn’t really matter, God still hears you, forgives you, loves you.

Ultimately, I believe that this is what Paul was getting at; that just because there are differences in the church doesn’t mean that they need to lead to division. Our diversity isn’t something that should scare or stifle us. Instead, it is something which should make us stronger, something which reflects more closely the nature of creation and the nature of God. When we commit ourselves to coming together, not hiding our differences but celebrating them, we become better able to see the message of the cross; the message that when differences lead to division, they also lead to death, and not just the death of our relationships, but also the death of our Lord on the cross. This is why Paul writes that Christ did not send him to baptize, but to proclaim the Gospel. To say it differently, Christ did not send him to divide through baptism, but to unite through the proclamation of the Gospel; not to be a wise leader, but instead, a foolish prophet.

So how do we get there? Amidst our differences which seemingly separate us, how do learn to come closer in our diversity? While there are many things we might try, I believe the first and most important one is listening. I know, sounds simple, right? Wrong. Active listening is one of the most difficult, and exhausting, things you and I can ever do. It’s far easier to be a talking head, that’s why we find so many of them in the media and in the church. That’s what we find in today’s letter from Paul to the Corinthians. It’s far easier to say, “I belong to Apollos” than to ask, “Who do you belong to and why?”. None of us need someone telling us what to do, and at the same time, we don’t need to be going around telling others what to do either. Instead, if we are to come closer in our diversity, we need to actively listen, we need to actively listen so that we can hear about the crosses they bear, see the love of God working in their lives, learn that God loves them just as God loves us, completely, unconditionally, eternally. Maybe then we’ll be able to start a new tradition in the church, a tradition of reconciling relationships. Amen.