Body [Epiphany 3C / Annual Meeting Sunday]

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

1 Corinthians 12:12-31a

Body

Someone in this room, in the very room in which we are now gathered, is a kidney.  Someone else in this room is an eyeball.  Or at least that is what the Apostle Paul would have us believe, that is the analogy he spins in today’s reading from his first letter to the Corinthians.

There are many metaphors and analogies used to make sense of the Church – this mysterious mystical Christian community of which each baptized person is a member.  The image of the Body of Christ is one of the most enduring – perhaps because we all have bodies and each of those bodies is made of basically the same parts.  Being embodied is a universal human, and divine, experience.

We all have kidneys, or at least one.  And, from here at least, it appears we all have eyeballs.  And I think we can all admit that those parts are better when they are firmly connected to the other parts of our body; that is when they are at their best.  A kidney on its own or a detached eyeball: not a pretty picture.  But when working within the larger body, the kidney is very important.  And when firmly planted in one’s face an eyeball is not only functional but also beautiful.  Context matters.

And that is the genius of Paul’s analogy – one of the reasons it is, some twenty centuries later, still so widely referenced in the Church: it reminds us that, the Church, the Body of Christ, is more than the sum of its parts.  An inventory of the complete collection of parts, without the connections, without the relationships that bind us together, is like an unopened box of puzzle pieces: fragmented and lacking.  Paul’s point is that we need each other.  We are Christ’s Body through our connections, because of our relationships. 

But it goes beyond that.  Not only do we need each other, we really need each other in all of our beautiful difference and diversity, because of our differences and diversity.  It’s not just about having the pieces but a mix of pieces – pieces that fit together, that support, complement, harmonize.  There are churches out there in which every member is expected to think, act, vote, and believe in the exact same way.  A friend of mine, who is now a United Church of Christ pastor, applied to number of seminaries right out of college, seminaries from a wide variety of Christian traditions.  In response to one of his inquiries, a seminary in a more fundamentalist denomination, sent him back a list of doctrines, beliefs, and practices; at the bottom of the long list was a blank space for his signature.  It turns out, they only accepted students who already believed all of their beliefs, who whole-heartedly agreed with them going in.  He did not go there.

A church like that, a church with such a monolithic, monochromatic, homogeneous population is kind of like a big pile of arms.  Maybe everyone agrees, looks alike, sounds alike, is basically the same, but that is not a body – certainly nothing resembling the Body of Christ with all of its many and wildly diverse parts.

Not only is that weird, that pile of arms, it is boring, predictable, and, frankly, not sustainable.  It is much more interesting to have a kidney and an eyeball and a leg and an ear worshiping together, living together – different and necessary parts of one and the same body.  Bringing all of their different perspectives on God and the world into this holy conversation – a conversation that is energizing and revelatory but probably never resolved.  Because every body part experiences the world differently – even though they all belong to the same body.

This is one of the gifts of this parish that I value so deeply.  I love that we don’t all think, vote, believe alike.  It is healthy for us to disagree at times.  I want you to know that you are allowed to disagree with me.  In fact, you should because I am definitely wrong sometimes – just ask my oldest son, Oscar.  And I know that it can be complicated, sometimes even baffling or frustrating to live in a Christian community in which such broad perspectives are represented.  And I’m OK with that.  It might be easier if all of us agreed on everything all of the time – meetings would certainly be shorter – but that kind of community looks nothing like the Kingdom of God.  I promise you that.

We are each created by God and formed by life in unique and beautiful ways.  We come with strengths and weaknesses, with flaws and triumphs, with diverse experiences and perspectives.  We bring all of that amazing messiness into this Christian community we call Grace and St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church.  And together we form this body – this hauntingly beautiful body – scarred and stunning.  And in some mysterious way it resembles the scarred and stunning body of Jesus.

This tension with which we live; this tension to which we clutch so stubbornly and preciously is built into our DNA as a parish – a parish that was formed when two congregations were called by God to become one church.  As you might imagine, that was no small or easy thing.  Grace Episcopal Church and St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church were two churches for a reason – close enough, within a few blocks actually, that folks very intentional chose one and not the other.  They had different histories and preferences and locations and worship styles.  The Grace people preferred more Catholic liturgy; the St. Stephen’s folks liked Protestant worship.  And so when they decided to worship as one church, probably no one was completely happy.  They sacrificed their preferences; they sacrificed their precious worship spaces – which must have been heart-rending – to build a new space, this space, together.  Individuals had to adapt to new roles, had to share ministries, had to give up power and authority, had to relinquish responsibilities, had to watch as things changed. I know it’s hard to imagine, but I assume the heads of both Altar Guilds had to learn to co-exist.  And both Rectors surrendered authority and autonomy to co-pastor a newly formed congregation and all of its many complex issues and diverse parts.  I’m sure it was messy. 

And they did it.  There is no way everyone agreed with each other.  But they chose to be together.  And in doing so formed the foundation on which we are still building: a Church that is generous enough to intentionally hold together all of the many opinions and beliefs and ideologies and experiences that we bring into this building.  And then despite our differences and disagreements, and there are differences and disagreements, we worship together and study together and prayer together and love each other.  When one member suffers, we all suffer together with them.  When one member rejoices, we all rejoice together.  Because love does not require uniformity, just union.

This is our witness in this partisan nation, in this divided and broken world.  There is a love that has the power to overcome the devastating estrangement of our age, that can heal brokenness, that transcends our stubborn, entrenched ideologies.  There is a love that is big enough to hold us together, a love that can make one body out of this group of people – and not just any body, but the body of Christ.  Church is not always easy, because of the people, but because of the people, it sure is worth it.