What Would You Not Do for Love? [Epiphany 4B - 1 Corinthians 8:1-13]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
1 Corinthians 8:1-13
What would YOU not do for love?
What would you not
do for love? That is the question. More specifically: would you not eat the meat, you know, for love’s sake? The Apostle Paul posed this question to the
Christians in Corinth: are you willing to say no to some delicious idol meat –
not the flesh of idols, of course, but animal flesh first offered to idols – if
it really mattered to the person in the next pew?
That is the question of this morning’s epistle reading. And people think the Bible isn’t relevant to
our lives… Probably you have had this
very conversation with your friends a hundred times. Likely a cousin has blocked you on facebook
because of your out-spoken opinion on this very touchy tenderloin topic.
Perhaps a little background information would be helpful. In
the first century, Corinth was a prominent city within the Roman Empire. It was an important center of trade, an economic
power. Not only that, it was a sophisticated
city – “the heart of Roman imperial culture in Greece.”[1] And it was famously steeped in pagan religion;
it was home to prominent temples of worship, including the temple of Aphrodite.
As was common in the ancient Roman Empire, the local and
imperial deities were woven rather intentionally into practically every aspect
of life. It was difficult, and at times
even dangerous, to navigate public life without pledging one’s allegiance to the
gods. Their invisible hands touched
everything. Those who refused to bow before
the gods could find their economic fortunes impacted, could find their
patriotism questioned, and, in the worst of times, could find their lives
threatened.
And so being a monotheistic, Jesus-loving Christians in
Corinth in the first century was a complicated matter. It even complicated the most basic things in
life, like dinner time. Because those pagan
gods had their hands even on the meat. And
this, as we know from this morning’s reading, is the complication which it
seems Paul was asked to address. Here’s
what happened: animals were sacrificed to the gods during pagan rituals in
Corinth; the extra meat, the meat not required by the gods, was sold in the neighborhood
market because why waste it. And that
meant grocery shopping became a complex moral conundrum – and so did dining
with your neighbor or ordering take-out.
Now some of the Christians in Corinth reasoned their way
around this problem. They argued that
since the idols and gods did not technically exist, according to their
monotheistic theological belief system, the meat was fine to eat. Other members of the community, especially
those who had most recently traded their idols for the cause of Christ,
disagreed. To them, it felt like an
unholy compromise. This is the conflict
to which Paul is responding.
Although the issue specifically addressed in today’s passage
might not be a hot topic in the 21st century Church, these old
Pauline epistles are still helpful; they offer an important reminder to those
of us who occupy the Church today; they remind us that Church people have never
found consensus easy. Jesus did not leave
us with a tidy set of rules or regulations; he did not give to his followers
by-laws or canons. He gave us each
other; he gave us people. And so our
faith has a long history of disagreements – sometimes healthy and productive
disagreements, sometimes short and simple scrapes over adiaphora, sometimes the
Spanish Inquisition.
Idol meat is not for us an urgent issue; it is not a divisive
topic in the Episcopal Church or in this parish. We know that it was a big deal for at least
one church a long, long time ago. But
even though the Corinthians thought it was a matter of great importance, I’m
not convinced that Paul thought it was. I
think Paul was around enough church people to understand that the meat melee
would not be final parish argument; as long as the church in Corinth had at
least two members, they would also have some conflict.
Paul didn’t give them a clear-cut answer in his letter; he
offered them something far more valuable: he offered a way to live together. He posed a question for the Church in Corinth:
what would you not do for love? There was no law against the meat – not in
the city, not in the Bible. There was no
written code to which Paul could appeal; no verse he could cite. The meat eaters were well within their
rights. They were free to eat the meat.
Paul just asks them not to.
They could have won the argument; Paul asks them to take a loss, to give
in a little for something good: for each other, for love. He gives them a way into a future together: you
must be willing to trade a little liberty for a lotta love.
The meat controversy is a relic of a bygone past, preserved only
by its inclusion in an ancient canonized letter. But the question of the tension between the
individual and the community, between liberty and love is a struggle that
refuses to be left behind.
And it is a struggle that threatens to make or break every
human community – including our own faith community. I don’t think it is too much of an
exaggeration to say that every human community is a miracle. Human relationships are hard; they require us
to do the unthinkable: sacrifice one of our most treasured and defended values:
personal freedom.
The truth is: every time we enter into a relationship we lose
something, we lose a little bit of our freedom.
Any lasting relationship, whether with spouse or children or church,
requires us to love someone else so much that we amazingly come to prioritize
their needs over our wants.
I am proud to say that this parish has embraced this selfless
love during the difficult days of this pandemic. We have made beautiful little sacrifices throughout
to protect and support each other. You
have visited each other through screens and held in hugs and worn masks because
that is what love requires. The members
of our crack A/V team have arrived early and left late every Sunday because
they love the people who listen in their cars and the people who join us from
the safety of their homes and they want them to be able to worship with their
parish family. Vestry members have met way
more often than they expected, trading personal time to attend to the well-being
of our parish family; staff members tore up their job descriptions and got to
work; big-hearted lay pastoral caregivers, unable to visit in person, started
working the phones so that no one, including those without computers, would
feel alone in these days of physical distancing. While some churches were busy suing the state
or challenging guidelines, this church was busy living the beautiful, sacrificial
love Jesus modeled for us.
We will probably never need our Bishop to mediate between
those in our congregation who eat idol meat and those who refuse. But the
question at the heart of this passage is essential to the survival of every
fragile community of humans: what would you
not do for love? What are you willing to
give up so that we can grow? What losses
will you take so that we can thrive? What
are you willing to sacrifice for a higher purpose, for the common good of our
parish family, so that we can together live into the future that God wants for
us? It is a question as relevant today
as it was when it flowed from the pen of the apostle 2000 years ago.
Today, at noon on Zoom, we will meet in our Annual Meeting
and we will be reminded that we are governed by a Constitution and canons and
parish by-laws and vestry decisions. But
also we will be reminded that those are not the things that hold us
together. What holds us together, what
makes us a family, what sustains these precious relationships we so deeply
value, is that beautiful sacrifice we make for each other: love.
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