Saturday, February 8, 2025

Decently and In Order, Mostly

1 Corinthians 14:26-40
Epiphany 5
February 9, 2025
William G. Carter


What should be done then, my friends? When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up. If anyone speaks in a tongue, let there be only two or at most three, and each in turn; and let one interpret. But if there is no one to interpret, let them be silent in church and speak to themselves and to God. Let two or three prophets speak, and let the others weigh what is said. If a revelation is made to someone else sitting nearby, let the first person be silent. For you can all prophesy one by one, so that all may learn and all be encouraged. And the spirits of prophets are subject to the prophets, for God is a God not of disorder but of peace.

 

(As in all the churches of the saints, women should be silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be subordinate, as the law also says. If there is anything they desire to know, let them ask their husbands at home. For it is shameful for a woman to speak in church. Or did the word of God originate with you? Or are you the only ones it has reached?) 

 

Anyone who claims to be a prophet, or to have spiritual powers, must acknowledge that what I am writing to you is a command of the Lord. Anyone who does not recognize this is not to be recognized. So, my friends, be eager to prophesy, and do not forbid speaking in tongues; but all things should be done decently and in order.


Thanks to all of you, I don’t get around to a lot of other churches. But sometimes when I do, it tweaks one of my long-standing pet peeves. Say, for instance, if I’m the guest preacher. Some nice people will meet me at the door. They will show me around. We will chat about some necessary matters, such as, “Do you ask for the ushers to bring forward the offering plates for the offering, or will they be on the communion table?”

Then, of course, there is the follow-up question: “When everybody stands to sing the offertory, does the preacher retrieve them and put them on the communion table, or do the ushers turn around after the prayer, walk back down the aisle, and deliver them to the folks who are counting the proceeds?” You might think these are small matters, but the slightest bit of confusion can make for a moment that is awkward at best and paralyzing at worst.

It happens to guest preachers here. When the communion servers return with the trays of unused bread, do they sit down or remain standing when the preacher gives them bread? And how about the wine? Do those serving sit down then to receive the cup or do they stand? OR, as has happened here, do two of them sit while the other two stand? There can be a whole lot of drama missed by those who bow their heads and pray while all this is going on.

These things don’t upset me. In moments of anxiety, some of our worship volunteers have heard me whisper, “Just make it look like you’ve practiced all week.” We don’t want worship to be sloppy, but it’s OK if our humanity breaks through. Sometimes babies cry. Sometime choir members nod off to sleep. We bring all of ourselves before God in worship. Some of us showed up in snow boots today. Perfectly acceptable, since God is the One who sent us the weather.

But can I tell you what annoys me? It’s when I show up as a guest and the worship service doesn’t make any sense at all. There’s no order to it. Maybe there’s a call to worship, followed by ten minutes of announcements, then an offering, a children’s sermon, a prayer to thank God for the money. Then a scripture verse, followed by a hymn, then another announcement, a quiet organ piece, another song. Finally, eight minutes before the hour is up, someone points at me to say, “OK, padre, you’re on.” It’s chaotic. It makes no sense.

From the sounds of it, there was a lot of chaos in Corinth. We can only infer this by listening by listening to what Paul’s responding to. Yet it’s clear that young little church in the seaport city had a lot of issues. Especially on Sunday morning. People were talking over one another, some of them more enthusiastic than the next. Somebody over here was murmuring to herself in ecstatic bliss. The man next to her had no clue what was going in. As someone opened the scripture to interpret it, somebody else jumped up to say, “God has given me a song,” and started belting it out. The interruptions were irritating.

I remember the day I had a really good sermon. It was a while ago, but you would have known it was a good one. The mood was building. The Spirit was moving. Everybody was leaning forward, ready to say Amen – and these were Presbyterians! Suddenly, a man burst through the back door and yelled out, “Excuse me. I’m parked across the street. Somebody blocked me in. I’d like to get out. Let me give you the license place number: TP3 7VR.” Excuse me. I was talking. I finally had a good one. You know, really?

Interruptions happen. We know they happen. The bell choir is chiming perfectly. The notes are like crystal rain drops – and then, the Clarks Summit Fire Department blasts the weirdest fire alarm in the commonwealth.

Or we are celebrating the Lord’s Supper. It feels like the roof has opened and heaven has come down. It’s quiet. It’s reverent. It’s what most of us need. And suddenly, somebody’s cell ring plays “The Beer Barrel Polka.” You know, there’s a line in the worship bulletin. It says, “Please silence your cell phone.” There’s a good reason for that. It’s intrusive.

In fact, I wanted to change the line but got outvoted by our church administrator. I wanted it to say, “God is the only one who may call you while you’re in the sanctuary, and God doesn’t use Verizon.” Can’t you turn off the phone for an hour?

The apostle Paul calls it “order.” He says, “Do all things decently and in order.” I know the Presbyterians have stolen that line and written a Book of Order. But Paul was talking about worship. It’s “order,” not for the sake of control (Presbyterians need to remember that), but “order” for the sake of consideration. That’s what Paul was giving us in chapter fourteen in this letter. It’s a brief and somewhat primitive manual for worship.

He gives the Corinthians a few pointers. Be considerate of one another. Listen before you speak. Worship together, not independently. Let all things be done for “building up.” Let each person learn and be encouraged. Worship is for building up. It’s for spiritual encouragement. As one of my professors told us in class, “A room full of theology is a pretty good room. A room full of prayer is a holy room.” Worship is a group effort. Nobody gets to bully everybody else.

He says this to the Corinthians for a couple of reasons. First, they were a mixed house. Jews and Gentiles in the same church. The Jews present had a long-established order of worship, modeled after the synagogue. They gathered, opened the Word of God, responded to the Word, then left. The Gentiles didn’t know this. They were holding their bulletins upside-down, couldn’t tell an introit from a benediction. And the pagan worship practices were sporadic, emotional. When they got spiritual, they just let it fly.

We’ve already heard Paul say, “YOU are the body, the body of Christ. Pay attention to the body. Be considerate. Do the good work of worship together.”[1]

Yet there’s that other thing in the letter. Fifty-one percent of you are waiting for me to say something about that. He says, “Women should be silent in the churches.” Thank you, Paul, for your opinion, but I don’t know a lot of women who agree with you, including all my Sunday school teachers, several seminary professors, and some astonishing female preachers. In fact, I heard my mother give a testimony at a funeral in her church. No reason to silence any of them!

In fact, Paul, I’m not sure the Holy Spirit would agree with you. After all, didn’t you just say in chapter eleven of this same letter, “Now, women, when you speak in church (that is, when you prophesy), here are a few guidelines.”[2] Which is it, Paul? Be silent, which was the cultural norm? Or speak up when the Spirit says, “Speak?”

And the problem is exasperated if you were reading along in the pew Bible this morning. In the New Revised Standard translation, this little section (which seems to interrupt what he’s talking about) is placed in parentheses. As if to say, it is parenthetical and may have been added later. That happened sometimes. Paul wrote a letter to a congregation, but it became a community document. It was incorporated with other letters, other writers. It was hand-copied for generations. And the church put its fingerprints all over the text – because it had become the church’s text.

To our everlasting shame, a group of men later decided to isolate and enshrine this verse here while totally ignoring that the Holy Spirit of God was prompting women in the city of Corinth to hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ and respond to it with prophetic speech. It’s always been that way. Do you know who the first Protestant women preachers were? They were in the Assembly of God denomination, where they believe if the Holy Spirit tells you to speak, you need to speak. Especially if it’s for the benefit of the congregation!

So, we have a clue here as to what happened in Corinth. A lot of the speaking in church was getting out of hand. So, Paul gives his pastoral word, “God is a God not of disorder but of peace.” The worship of God is for prayer and praise, not tornados and chaos. The congregation gathers for encouragement, not interruption. The service is for God’s instruction, not the expression of human ego. In worship, people gather together, not splinter off as solitary individuals. A community is built, a community nurtured, a community is cared for.

For the benefit of that community, let all things be done decently, not indecently. We don’t trample on one another. We discern this is the Body of Jesus in this place, in this neighborhood.

And let all things be done in order: in a sequence that is helpful, in mutual respect that counters chaos, and in a liturgy that unfolds like a story. That’s what we do: we gather, we listen, we respond, we bless.

And if the Holy Spirit works among us to speak or sing something that builds up the church, all praise to God through Jesus Christ our Lord. That’s who we are as a church: decent, in order, and alive to God.

 

 (c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.


[1] “You (plural) are the Body of Christ,” 1 Corinthians 12:27. “Discern the Body,” 1 Corinthians 11:29.

[2] 1 Corinthians 11:5, 10, 13. The evangelical scholar Gordon Fee and others believe this section in chapter 14 is a later interpolation added to Paul’s original text. See, for instance, https://hermeneutics.stackexchange.com/questions/1156/is-1-corinthians-1433-35-an-interpolation

Saturday, February 1, 2025

Only in Part

1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Epiphany 4
February 2, 2025
William G. Carter

 

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

 

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

 

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

 

I have some sermons on this very famous passage. A handful have been preached on Sunday mornings. Others have been offered on Saturday afternoons, including my daughter’s wedding last May. It seems that people want to hear about love, it seems. So, it’s only a slight surprise that the text has been invited to a half-dozen funerals. Love seems to be an appropriate topic then, as well. 

This is a famous text. It travels well, even when it is recited in the presence of those for whom it was not intended. Paul sent it to a church he founded, a church he had left, a church that he still loved. Clearly, some of the people in that church were not loving one another. So, he sends this poem: “Love is patient, love is kind, love does not insist in its own way.” He wanted to lift their eyes and open their hearts. We don’t know how well it worked.

The chapter is a remarkable text. It comes in three parts. In the opening section, he punctures whatever conflict exists in that church by holding his own well=known abilities against the greater virtue of love:

   If I speak in heavenly tongues

   If I have prophetic powers

   If I have knowledge and understanding

   If I have faith to move mountains

   If I generously give away everything – including myself…

All that sounds virtuous. But none of it matters if it is not offered in love. He speaks of himself, so the Corinthians might think about themselves. What good does goodness matter, if done only for our benefit, our ego, or our pretensions of advancement? Goodness only matters when it is good for other people.

Then Paul moved to the middle part, the famous part. He describes love, mostly by telling us what love is not: not envious, not boastful, not arrogant, not rude, not insistent, not irritable, not resentful, not rejoicing in wrongdoing. That’s quite a list. Notice he never tells us what love is. It’s never defined, at least in the English language.

However, in the Greek language, the definition is clear. The word is agape. This is love that flows down from above. It is love that benefits other people. It is love without conditions or restrictions. It’s greater than the love of affection. It’s deeper than the love of passion. It’s more satisfying than the love of companionship. Agape love with a mission – and the mission is to benefit everybody else. This is love that comes from God. Agape love can come to us, but it must pass through us.

Agape is the love that bears the pain of those around us. This is the love that trusts God is working, even in our own pain. This love hopes – it sees beyond the present circumstances to the possibility of God making all thing right. This is the love that sticks around. As the apostle puts it, “Love never ends.” He’s talking about the love of God.

That brings us to the third piece of this chapter, the piece that almost everybody jumps over. Several young couples want to skip over the final verses when the text is read at their weddings. They want the preacher to say on their behalf, “Don’t be envious, boastful, arrogant, or rude.” That’s like a referee blowing a whistle. Yet sooner or later, everybody I know insists on their own way. Everybody. Welcome to the human dilemma.

The fact is sometimes human love does come to an end. Hate to say it, but this is church, and we must tell the truth. I’ve heard people confess their failures. Or they tried to make it work and it fizzled out. Or they dragged the other to a marriage counselor and said, “Fix this!” The wise counselor says, “I can’t fix a thing. Best I can do is listen and see if we can figure out what’s going on.” It’s then up to the couple to find the courage to take the next steps.

Paul does not give anybody this text as a good luck charm. He never says, “Recite my beautiful poem and you will be happy forever after.” But he does say love is a revelation of God. Elsewhere in the New Testament, someone says God is love. Just run that through Paul’s list of negative attributes: God is not boastful, God is not arrogant, God never insists on getting the divine way. All of that is true. Then run it through the positive descriptions: God is patient, God is kind, God rejoices, not in wrongdoing, but in the truth. That works.

As for the rest of us, how are we doing? Is it fair to say we’re not there? Or better put, we’re not there yet?

Remember what I said last Sunday ago? Paul speaks of the Corinthians as saints who are becoming saints. They are in the process of transformation. God has been working on them, just as God continues to work on you and me. This is the key that unlocks that elusive third part of this chapter: “We know only in part.” Know what? “We know God only in part.” “We know love only in part.” We have received enough, experienced enough, learned enough that we know love is real. But we have not perfected it.

It's like children. Children see the sun come up over here, go down over there, and watch the sun return over here – naturally, they sense the sun revolves around them. I know a lot of people who have blown up their lives because they thought the sun revolved around them. The grown-up truth is that we are all part of something bigger. We must keep growing up. That’s how love increases.

Or think of it this way, he says. “It’s like looking a mirror, dimly.” Now, Corinth is a cosmopolitan city. People were always trying to primp in front of mirrors. But the mirrors of that time were not made of reflectorized glass. A first-century mirror was made from polished metal. No doubt, the Corinthians had the best first-century mirrors money could buy – but the image was still blurred. As somebody notes, “To see a friend’s face in a cheap mirror would be very different from looking at the friend.”[1] We don’t see clearly; not yet. We see, but not completely. Only in part.

But here is the Good News: God sees us. God gave us life out of love. God continues to instruct us to love. God has conclusively shown us love in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. God remains with us in love, even when we are captive to our incompleteness. Even when we are still childish. Even when we know about love “only in part.”

The Good News is that God knows us – completely – and God still loves us – completely. And the day is coming as heaven moves toward us when all things will be caught up and filled with the love of God. This is where life is going. This is the hope that Jesus has pulled back the curtain to show us.

Love is eternal. What that means is love is where the past, present, and future come together. That’s how we can love people even after we’ve lost them. That’s how somebody can pledge life to another, even before the two of them have any idea of what’s coming in that life together. That’s how we trust, hope, and believe, even if we live alone, even if love has bruised us along the way, even if we don’t always believe we are lovable. God sees otherwise. And love never ends because God “never ends.”

Think of it this way. For God, love is identity. It is the truth that God is for us, no matter what, through thick and thin. For us, however, love is a muscle. It is strength expressed through activity, and it improves through exercise. The more we love, the greater our capacity for love. It is the most excellent way.

If we listen carefully, we might hear God say, “This is what I intended from the beginning, and this is how everything is going to end." In love, with love, for love – forever.



(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

[1] William Orr and James Walther, The Anchor Bible: First Corinthians (New York: Doubleday, 1976) 297.