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Third Sunday after Epiphany

1 Corinthians 1
10 I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought. 11 My brothers and sisters, some from Chloe’s household have informed me that there are quarrels among you. 12 What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas”; still another, “I follow Christ.”
13 Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul? 14 I thank God that I did not baptize any of you except Crispus and Gaius, 15 so no one can say that you were baptized in my name. 16 (Yes, I also baptized the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I don’t remember if I baptized anyone else.) 17 For Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel—not with wisdom and eloquence, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power.
18 For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.


Are you a technophobe? Do you fear the latest innovation in the realm of technology? Still sticking your finger in the number hole and rotating in a clockwise direction toward the little metal thingy that means you have dialed the number? Do you refuse to get a cell phone but find yourself borrowing one occasionally with an embarrassed smile and a bit of envy?

A favourite radio ad begins something like “my practice was drying up and finally I googled myself…” The voice explains the first result on Google was unfairly negative, and then a voiceover says “how will you protect yourself when the internet turns on you?” Chilling stuff. By the way: If I’ve scared the pants off you, the internet can’t really turn on people, it’s only a conduit for information.

That being said, it is helpful to google yourself from time to time. Not only to discover if the internet has turned on you, but to find out what’s happening to any content you chose to share with the world.

An example: A few years back I received my one and only royalty cheque for hymn-writing, a staggering 87 cents (US). I was delighted, of course, so I took a picture of the cheque and posted it on my Flickr page (photo sharing site). I didn’t give it another thought.

Months later, while googling myself, I discovered that the image had been borrowed by no less than three Russian newspapers to illustrate articles on something related to chequing. Maybe they were writing about how poorly writers are paid in the West. Whatever the content, I was both pleased and feeling a little ripped-off. Maybe the internet turned on me.

***

The reading this morning from 1 Corinthians 1 can best be described as google-worthy. If Chloe or Crispus or Gaius wanted to know what Paul was saying about them in his letter to the church at Corinth, they could simply turn to an ancient near-eastern version of Google (that would be an avid reader with a good memory) and say “did you see my name?” And the answer would be yes.

There are lots of ways to obtain immortality. One would be to have your followers copy down everything you say (Jesus, Socrates), another would be to conquer the known world (Alexander) and another would be gaining a mention in an ancient source that never goes out of print. Enter our famous four.

Just before I get to them, though, you will recall that there seven people mentioned in the passage Jim read, eight if you count Jesus. But three are part of the unfolding story, and get frequent mentions, so they have sainthood to fall back on. Paul references himself (he wrote the letter, and one-third of the New Testament), Apollos is mentioned (Jewish Christian from Alexandria who did follow-up work for Paul) and finally Cephas (aka Peter, aka Simon), the only disciple who must have been in a witness protection program to account for all the names.

The famous four, then, are Chloe, Crispus, Gaius and Stephanus. Taken in reverse order, little is known about Stephanus, except that came from a household of believers. If he was a saint, I would nominate him for patron saint of forgetful people or the patron saint of parenthesis, based solely on Paul’s afterthought: (“Oh yes, I also baptized the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I don’t remember if I baptized anyone else.”) Man after my own heart.

Gaius is a little more difficult. There are two or maybe three Gaius’, the first being noted for his hospitality in Corinth. He may have also traveled with Paul, but this is less certain. Crispus was the chief of the synagogue at Corinth, and also baptized with his entire household.

Then there is Chloe: She is the most intriguing of the lot. It turns out that someone from her household, a family member, a slave, maybe a member of the staff, was in touch with Paul and told him about the divided state of the church in Corinth. Did she instruct them to send word? Did she have a scribe send word without attaching her name? Was she even aware that Paul was being informed? These are open questions, but I think the tone of Paul’s letter speaks for itself:

“My brothers and sisters, some from Chloe’s household have informed me that there are quarrels among you.”

She is clearly a leader in the community, and her name is forever attached to a desire for accountability and oversight. Assuming they acted in her name, members of the household were worried enough about divisions in the Corinthian church to write the founder and seek help.

***

There is always conflict in the church. Just yesterday, Lang and I were off to a presbytery retreat to represent you and to help develop a strategic plan for the next few years. There were maybe fifty of us, and we divided off to discuss several ideas that the presbytery might focus on as the future unfolds. And while ideas like enhanced communication and measures of congregational viability may not sound very sexy or engaging, they represent the kinds of things a presbytery must do to effectively represent the church in this part of the city.

The conflict began almost immediately when someone felt excluded. Later, some felt that we were moving too quickly and they needed more time. Still later, some refused to vote for the priorities established because the presbytery lacks a mission statement to guide the entire process. Just another day in churchland. Still and yet, the day ended with handshakes and best wishes, the odd apology from some of the more forceful ones, and a general sense that the work continues and somehow we will get it done.

The afternoon, however, contained some surprises beyond bickering church people. We heard from the Rev. John Buttars, a retired colleague, and an expert in Ignatian spirituality and an all-round wise person. He spoke of discernment techniques, and the ways in which we can set aside the “stuff” that gets in the way of understanding God’s intention for our lives and see things more clearly. I’ll have more to say about this towards Lent, so stay tuned.

For today, he added an idea that I think helps to clarify a few things, including 1 Corinthians 1. John Buttars said that the church, at this moment in time is being “dismantled.” The church is being dismantled. Now, we all have our favourite metaphors to describe the state of the United Church of Canada at this moment in time, the most popular being “dying.” And while it might feel that way to some, it seems too dire and maybe too general at the same time.

“Dismantled” seems much more helpful, because some churches have closed, and others will follow, there are some who will persist for many years to come. Dying only fits when the whole dies, whereas “dismantling” indicates that some parts are being taken apart while other parts are allowed to stand. If you dismantle the whole thing it is no long dismantling, it has become demolition. And that is not what Rev. Buttars said, nor is it the situation on the ground. It is piece by piece these days, and anything that happens piece by piece requires constant discernment. And may cause constant conflict.

Back to Corinth for a moment. Things are tense and here is why:

My brothers and sisters, some from Chloe’s household have informed me that there are quarrels among you. 12 What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas”; still another, “I follow Christ.”

To follow is to subscribe, to adopt a viewpoint that is distinct from the others. The people of the Corinthian church were functioning based on adherence to ideas belonging to others. Wise others, but others nonetheless.

In this early chaotic period in the church, every leader had a different opinion on the way forward: Jewish Christians only, Gentiles and Jews, what to eat, how to mark adherence, how to stand apart. All these topics are debated in Acts and Paul, all these topics are resolved in more or less satisfactory ways. But conflict never ends, first because it is the human way, and second, because every age of the church is as chaotic as the first.

And many of the voices yesterday calling for a clearly defined mission before proceeding could easily have been visitors from long ago Corinth. Each style of baptism named for an early leader was little more that a worldview, a set of ideas, in short, a mission. And Paul has no choice but to cut through all this, to make things clear:

Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel—not with wisdom and eloquence, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power. For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

Baptisms, and what they might represent are one thing, but the power of God can only be found in the Gospel, defined this way:

God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling-block to most; but to those who are the called, (people of faith), Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God. (my paraphrase)

And that power comes through surrender. Jesus didn’t gather power, he gave it away. He didn’t run from the cross, he gave himself over to it, to lead by example and save us all. He didn’t say ‘argue endlessly about mission statements,’ he said “go and make disciples of all nations.’ He didn’t say ‘debate each other,’ he said ‘feed my sheep’ and ‘whatever you do for the least of these by brothers and sisters, you did also for me.’

We don’t need a mission statement, we just need a Bible and a good index, one to look up “the poor” and “the vulnerable” and “the way of the cross.” And we don’t need to explain the cross—foolishness to those who are perishing—we need to live at the foot of the cross, where people continue to be crucified, and where the clearest word Christ said is “forgive.”

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 6:09 AM