Ordinary 5
February 7, 2021
William G. Carter
If I proclaim the gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel! For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward; but if not of my own will, I am entrusted with a commission. What then is my reward? Just this: that in my proclamation I may make the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my rights in the gospel.
For though I am free with respect to all, I have made
myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them. To the Jews I
became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one
under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those
under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law
(though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law) so that I might
win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak.
I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some. I do it all
for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings.
The Bible is a venerable book. It has been around for a long time. As a venerable book, it has been the source of many venerable quotations. Today we hear Paul say, “I have become all things to all people.” That phrase has come to mean all kinds of things to all kinds of people. It's a statement subject to many misinterpretations. And I don’t know which misinterpretation I like the best.
If Paul is saying, "I have become able to do all things," we could compliment his versatility. It is the motto of a true Renaissance person, able to do many things and wear a variety of hats. We
We are impressed with such people. I remember the sunset cruise on Lake Champlain. At the pier, a weathered old salt sold tickets in a small shack. At the appointed hour, he rang a bell and pointed us toward the gangplank. The engine fired up. We pulled away from the dock. A few minutes later, the cabin door opens, and our ticket seller is wearing a captain's hat. He described the shoreline on a fifteen-watt amplifier as he steered us toward the middle of the lake.
As we admired the golden glow of sunset, our captain opened the snack bar. He sold Coke, coffee, champagne, pretzels, and Dramamine. We returned to shore, he waved good-bye, and began to tidy up. I thought, "This guy can do it all. Booking agent, sea captain, tour guide, soda jerk, medic, and deck swabber."
All things to all people. Some people think that’s what Paul is saying, if only to tell us how capable he is.
Others of us don’t this is a positive statement. Rather, it reveals a character flaw.
In my family, we have a catchphrase to describe a people-pleaser. We say, “How does she like her eggs?” It’s a reference to the old romantic comedy, “Runaway Bride.” Julia Roberts plays Maggie Carpenter, a beautiful young woman who leaves a string of fiancĂ©es at the altar. She fell in love with the rock and roll mechanic, the sensitive dude, the scientist, and the high school football coach. Each one fell for her, popped the question, gave her a ring, and planned a wedding. Before she could say, “I do,” Maggie ran away.
A journalist named Ike Graham travels from New York to investigate the story. He interviews all the jilted men and discovers Maggie never stood up for herself. Ike asks, “How did she like her eggs?” Each guy gives a different answer. She was so desperate to be loved, she gave in to whatever they ordered. All things to all people; or at least, a different thing for each person.
We know this is impossible, if not exhausting. The marketing expert tells the business, “Pick your audience, and play to them.” The community college declares says, “We have a specialized niche in the educational market.” Some successful companies have gotten themselves into trouble when they tried to sell things they had no expertise in selling. That’s why Krispy Kreme does not sell computers. They can’t be all things.
It is true of churches. A seasoned old pastor was talking serving a church in the suburbs. He knows the expectations are high: people want this program, they want that ministry, and so on. “I would get some flack when someone would discover that it’s impossible for a church to meet all their unchecked, unwarranted needs,” he said. “Finally I declared, ‘We are the church for the people who want to be here.’” There’s a wise man.
And it is true of every human relationship. Ninety years ago, Harry Warren wrote a pop tune titled, “You’re My Everything.” It was a work of fiction. Nobody is everybody’s everything. Special, yes. Committed, certainly. But relationships collapse when they suffer under the burden of perfection. Love is a wonderful gift; forgiveness is even better. We cannot be all things to one person, much less to all persons.
So it’s no wonder that the apostle Paul caught some criticism from the church in Corinth. They waited until after he left town, you understand. Criticism always bubbles up when they discover you are not all things, that you cannot be all things. A gap opens between what you expect and what you receive.
After Paul left the city of Corinth, people started to say, "Paul is inconsistent. He preaches different sermons to different people. To the Jews, he goes on and on about circumcision, Torah, and the Messiah. To the rhetorically minded Greeks, he preaches three logical points and recites a poem. To the downtrodden, he says ‘Take heart; Christ was weak on the cross, and he is revealed in the midst of suffering.’”
His opponents say, “Listen to that. Paul can't make up his mind. He changes the message to suit the audience. He wants everybody to like him."
And how does he respond to the criticism? Paul says, "I have become all things to all people." But it sounds different when he says it. According to the context, it is an expression of his freedom.
Here in chapter 9, he stands up for himself. He says, "I am not bound by anybody's opinions or expectations. My preaching does not depend on what people think of me. Neither am I bound by anybody's money. I am free. The Gospel came to me free of charge. I have been awakened to what God is doing in the world through Jesus, the Risen Christ. So I will speak of the love and justice of God wherever I can. In feast and famine. In comfort or hostility. I will go anywhere, and I will talk to anybody, because I am free."
Let’s remember how rare this is. Many Christian churches say, "Everybody is welcome here." That's what they say and what they want to believe. But when you get to the bottom of the page, the small print says, "We'll take anybody as long they look like the rest of us." What is so rare and refreshing about the apostle Paul is that he did not have any guarded turf. There was no place he would not go. No stranger that he would not engage. The Gospel news was so good that he would do whatever he could to share it.
I find this to be a remarkable expression of love. Paul held the essence of the Gospel – but he offered it in a way that it could be heard. To the Jew, he could announce the Messiah had come and he knew who it is. To the philosophical Greeks, he could speak of the Christ as the center that holds all things together. To those who were suffering or sad, he could say, “Let me tell what Jesus has endured for all of us.”
More than translating the age-old verities, he offered sympathy, compassion, and understanding. He cared enough about those around him to take them seriously. He earned a hearing by listening first. By paying attention to whomever God connected him.
Someone pointed me to an article about Jane Goodall, that remarkable anthropologist who has spent much of her life learning about Africa. We think of her as the scientist who was photographed with chimpanzees. She has been that, and so much more.
For twenty years, she had been working with the villages of Tanzania. Her chief concern was deforestation, the decimation of the habitat. The villagers, however, were worried about food, water, health care, and survival. And the writer noted, “Only when she listened to their concerns, rather than preaching hers to them, were the (Goodall) Institute and the villagers able to discover together what a harmonious kinship could look like.”[1]
That’s the important line: “only when she listener to their concerns, rather than preaching hers to them…”
Paul says, "I have become all things to all people." What he means is, "I choose to meet people where they are." He does not swoop in as an expert, dead set on improving other people whether they want it or not. He does not stand over them and declare what they are missing. No, he stands among them, listens to who they are, and then shares what he has found.
“I do this for the sake of the Gospel,” he says. Not for his sake. Not to collect more scalps, pelts, or light sabers – but to “win” them for the sake of Jesus. “To the Jew, I speak like a Jew, I use the words of a Jew, I share the concerns of a Jew, in order to win the Jew.”
For those “outside of the Jewish Law,” he eats the food that they eat, discusses the matters that matter to them, relates to them as fellow children of God, all according to Christ’s law of love. He wants to win those outside of the Jewish Law.
So the issue today is how we “win” people. It’s a different kind of winning. It’s not like a football game, where the team wins by putting more points on the scoreboard, as a display of superiority. More likely, it’s winning by accompanying, by traveling beside rather than racing ahead.
When it comes to our life together as a congregation, or as Christians who live in this affluent town, or as citizens of a shared commonwealth, we will win others by being real, not by being better. We will win others through kindness, not aggression. We will win others by taking them seriously and naming the common ground that we already share.
Ultimately,
we will win others by showing them that they are loved. We cannot be “all things,”
not all the time, but we can aspire to love one another. To build up. To
listen. To refuse to perpetuate another person’s pain. To forgive and heal and restore
what can be restored. It is the work of service. It is the work of Christ, the Christ
who desires to work in “all things.”
[1] L. Roger Owens, “Why Jane Goodall
reminds me of Dorothy Day,” The Christian Century, 30 December 2020 https://www.christiancentury.org/article/film/why-jane-goodall-reminds-me-dorothy-day
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment