Ordinary 4
January 31, 2021
William G. Carter
Now concerning food sacrificed to idols: we know that “all of us possess knowledge.” Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. Anyone who claims to know something does not yet have the necessary knowledge; but anyone who loves God is known by him.
Hence, as to the eating of food offered to idols, we know that “no idol in the world really exists,” and that “there is no God but one.” Indeed, even though there may be so-called gods in heaven or on earth—as in fact there are many gods and many lords— yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist.
It is not everyone, however, who has this knowledge. Since some have become so accustomed to idols until now, they still think of the food they eat as food offered to an idol; and their conscience, being weak, is defiled. “Food will not bring us close to God.” We are no worse off if we do not eat, and no better off if we do. But take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak. For if others see you, who possess knowledge, eating in the temple of an idol, might they not, since their conscience is weak, be encouraged to the point of eating food sacrificed to idols? So by your knowledge those weak believers for whom Christ died are destroyed. But when you thus sin against members of your family, and wound their conscience when it is weak, you sin against Christ. Therefore, if food is a cause of their falling, I will never eat meat, so that I may not cause one of them to fall.
Some of our best lessons are learned at the dinner table. For that reason, the Bible doesn’t shy away from talking about the meals that we share and the food that we eat.
In the Gospels, Jesus sends out seventy of his followers to extend his work. He instructs them to travel lightly: don’t take a lot of money, don’t carry any luggage, take only the clothes on your back. And then he says this: “Eat whatever they put in front of you.” (Luke 10:7)
I have often winced when I think of that word. Back before the pandemic struck, I enjoyed sharing meals with people in the church, but I can be a picky eater, so I was wary of whatever people out in front of me. Specifically, I don’t pork as a matter of preference. Do you know how much ham Presbyterians eat? And one of God’s beloved servants would lovingly prepare a ham and set it before me. And Jesus said, “Eat whatever they put in front of you.”
Eating has always been an issue in the early church. When the early Christians ate together, there was never any pork on the table. They were Jewish; traditional Jews wouldn’t touch a ham hock or a piece of bacon. But as the Gospel spread beyond its Jewish beginnings, the church had to work through its own diversity. That’s part of the back story of the passage we have just heard.
In another of his letters, the apostle Paul recounts a painful episode. He remembers how he went to Jerusalem to discuss his work with the church leaders. After a long conversation, Peter, James, and John agreed that Paul’s mission was to the Gentiles, and their work would continue among the Jews. They shook hands, sang “Kum Ba Yah,” and encouraged one another to remember the poor.
But then, he says,
he and the apostle Peter met up later in the city of Antioch. It was a big deal.
The church planned a potluck meal. It’s not every week that a church gets two
apostles at the same table. One of the Gentiles brought pork chops, and nobody
thought otherwise. Paul had been among the Gentiles, so he would eat anything.
Peter had a well-known vision about food (Acts 10), so he stuck his fork in a
pork chop.
But then the door opened, and some of the Jewish believers showed up. Peter picked up his tray and went to sit at their table. Paul says, “I stomped over there, stared him in the eye, and said, ‘You are a hypocrite before God!’” We don’t know if they ever spoke to one another again. It had to do with food (Galatians 2:1-14).
There are lessons to be learned at the dinner table. Whom do we welcome? Whom do we exclude? I confess to all of you my reluctance to celebrate the Lord’s Supper on YouTube. We had done it a few times, but frankly, it’s not the Lord’s Supper if you can’t be here. I hope you understand and are patient with me.
And I am guided in this thinking by the apostle Paul. He talks about communion in this letter to the Corinthian church. They gathered in those early days to hear the Word of Jesus, break bread, and drink the cup. Well that was the plan. Sadly some of the wealthy members were hoarding all the wine, even to the point of getting tipsy. They also went ahead with their meal while the poorer folks went hungry. Paul said, “I don’t know what you think you are doing but that’s not the Lord’s Supper!”
“When you come together,” he says, “you proclaim the saving death of our Risen Lord. Wait for one another. Discern that the Lord is present, for together you are the body of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 11:17-33). This is a lesson that comes from the dinner table. A lot of good lessons come from the dinner table.
So today, we listen in as Paul takes up one more matter about meals. The people of Corinth have reached out to ask, “How do you feel about beef sacrificed to Zeus? Or lamb dedicated to Aphrodite?” Apparently, the local butchers would haul their goods to the local temples to get the local priests to bless the food before they sold it. Or something like that. If the meat was Temple Blessed, it was more desirable. Perhaps they could charge a higher price for it.
This may sound like a crazy question to you and me, but it was a big deal for the Corinthians. For one thing, it clashed with local economics. No doubt the priest, the temple, and the butcher got a piece of the income as the food was dedicated to the deities du jour, a series of surcharges passed on to the consumers. That’s why scholar Ken Bailey claims the poor folk in the city of Corinth couldn’t afford the temple-blessed meat.[1] If Christ calls rich and poor to the same table, it must be a level table where all sit together.
For another thing, the Corinthian church had an ample supply of know-it-alls. You didn’t even have to poke them with a stick, and they had a ready answer. From what we can surmise from Paul’s document, some of the know-it-alls didn’t think this matter was worthy of the attention of an apostle, much less themselves.
We can almost hear them say it, “Why are you bothering Paul with this? We know there is only one God. Pagan idols are stupid. Food sacrificed at a pagan temple is nothing. It’s only food. And if this matter ever ends up in the pages of scripture someday, we don’t want smart people thinking we are a city full of superstitious idiots.”
It's curious, then, how Paul addresses the matter. He does not make light of it. He does not dismiss it. He takes the concern seriously because he takes the Corinthian people seriously. Maybe not so much the know-it-alls, but he cares about the sensitive souls, the confused believers, the good Christian folks who are trying to make sense of what their faith in Jesus has to say to a world that doesn’t believe in Jesus.
It’s a big question. If your faith teaches you there is One God who is above all other things, how do you buy meat from a butcher shop that does not reflect your values? How do you purchase the daily goods you need from merchants whose view of the world is so different from your own? In the broadest way, how do you make your way through the world with those of different beliefs, temperaments, and commitments? It’s a big question, so big that it will spill into next week’s text and sermon.
For the matter of buying, eating, and serving pagan meat, there are a couple of options. One option is to pull back from the surrounding culture and stand apart. Some people do this. They pull their kids out of schools that teach science and deal with facts. They would set up an alternative enclave that welcomes only those who agree with them. In the matter of meat, they would never buy a cow from Zeus; they would raise a calf for Jesus.
Notice: Paul does not respond in that direction. Oh no, he takes an expansive view. There is One God – One! This is the God who makes everything! To quote one of the Psalm that the apostle could recite, “The earth is the Lord and the fullness thereof” (Psalm 24:1). There is one world, and it is God’s world. Even that neighbor of yours – whether indifferent to God or troubled by Zeus – is someone “for whom Christ died” (8:11).
So we don’t pull back from the world. We engage it, in the name of the God who made it. This is a lot of hard work. It takes a lot of time. It requires deep thinking and an open heart. For this is the mind of Christ, to redeem the world that does not know Christ.
If I might say it, any scheme that entices Christian people to withdraw from the world and hide is not Christian. Not in the name of the God who comes into the world in the Incarnate Word, Jesus Christ. He never pulled back the world he so loved, and neither will those who love him. There is One God, through whom all things exist. That’s the first move Paul makes.
The second move is even more important and timely for us. To put it in his words, “Take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak.” That is the message for our times.
Paul knows he is free in Christ. In Christ, he can live as a Jew or befriend the Gentile. He is free. If God creates all things, he is not beyond taking a bite out a Zeus Burger, especially if it has a little mayonnaise and a slice of red onion. Yet he doesn’t have to do it, especially if it going to offend a sister or brother in the faith.
There is something better than freedom: it’s employing your freedom to serve somebody else. There is something far greater than being right: it’s showing love. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if people backed off from any arrogance and shared a little love? What if we spend a whole lot more energy lifting people up rather than identifying enemies and putting them down?
I believe the world is ripe for a message like this. It cuts across the spectrum in so many ways. The most obvious, of course, is this pandemic. Eleven months in, and some still refuse to wear a face mask. To extend Paul’s concern, if you don’t think you need to wear a mask, how about if wear it anyway? Life is not about you, it’s about everybody else with you. It’s not merely about following a rule. It’s showing love for others by showing restraint. It is changing the lives of others by making sacrifices that lift them up.
A couple of years ago, I was driving the car and listening to a podcast. Malcolm Gladwell reported that an engineer named Hank Rowan had given a $100 million dollars to a public university in New Jersey. The school used to be called Glassboro State; now it’s called Rowan University. Gladwell asked, “Why did you do that?” Rowan said, “Engineers make things, so we need a lot of them. I wanted to make it possible for any hard-working student to become an engineer.” So he gave a 100 million to build an engineering department and provide a lot of scholarships.
Malcolm Gladwell went
to another school, an elite university on the coast, and asked the president, “What
would your school do with a 100 million dollars?” The president perked up and
began to share his dream of an advanced institute for biotechnology, a think-tank
with a small number of high-paid researchers.
Gladwell confessed that universities have many visions for their endowments, but the contrast between these two is striking. He said it’s the difference between professional basketball and a soccer team. In pro basketball, the team puts five tall, overpaid, competitive superstars on the court. But soccer is a game where all the players depend on one another. The team is only as good as the weakest player on your team. If the soccer team is going to improve, it will only happen by lifting everybody up.[2]
Paul says, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” More about love next week!
[1] Kenneth E. Bailey, Paul Through
Mediterranean Eyes (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2011) 239.
[2] Malcolm Gladwell, “Revisionist
History,” season 1, episode 6. Accessed through http://revisionisthistory.com/episodes/06-my-little-hundred-million
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