One of my favorite definitions of ministry comes from the book Contemplative Youth Ministry. The author invites people to, instead of approaching ministry beginning with a list of how things should be done, to instead begin with contemplation, or, as he puts it “a long, loving look at what’s real.”
A long, loving look at what’s real. I think that’s something that brings together Jeremiah, the prophet who doesn’t feel ready to be a prophet, especially during uncertain times, and Paul in his letter to the Corinthians here. The power of Jeremiah’s prophetic ministry, and the power of Paul’s letter to the church, lie in their ability to take a long, loving look at what’s real for the community at that time, and to feel the truth of that, and to invite God’s words to speak to that real situation, even if it’s broken.
It’s the reason why 1 Corinthians is one of my favorite books in the bible. It definitely has some of the greatest hits from our tradition, including the passage we read today. But that isn’t why it’s my favorite. I love it because it’s an honest little glimpse into a very real moment for a community. The Corinthians are a hot mess when Paul writes to them. Paul lays it out, including that the rich people are showing up early for worship, and getting drunk on the communion wine before the poor people can show up for the Eucharist. That’s like pretty universally bad, right?
And so Paul doesn’t shy away from that truth, and he doesn’t offer platitudes. He brings the best of what he’s experienced about life with God, and life in community, to this letter. Even though he’s clearly really upset with how things are going. Even though he probably couldn’t have been sure it would make any difference, given how bad and broken things were. But Paul knows brokenness and he knows healing from his own life, and his own journey with God. And so he shares the best of what he has. And, because we have this letter, and because this thing we call the Christian tradition has made its way 2000 years to us, we figure that it bore some fruit in the end.
Last year on Maundy Thursday, a night when we read another greatest hit from this letter, I spent some time imagining what the Corinthians might have to share with us, about brokenness, about healing, about love, and I wrote down that imagining. Since today is about looking back, with love, on all that has been this year, all the brokenness, and all the beauty, I thought I’d share it- it feels true for this community that has looked so bravely and honestly, with love, at what is real, even when that was hard to do. It feels true because I didn’t know about you all, last Maundy Thursday, and you didn’t know about me, but we were already connected, part of the body of Christ, part of that journey of love and healing that now we get to travel together into the great mystery of the future.
A letter from the church in Corinth
We wanted you to know what it was like
To be the church in Corinth
It sounds so official now, but it wasn’t, not really
We were just people who lived in a beautiful and cruel city, right on the sea, that you had to pass through to make any kind of deal in those days
It had been destroyed by the Romans and rebuilt again by the Romans
And it was filled with those those who came to make a profit
And those who came to scrape a living
When the empire builds your city, they build the temple to the emperor the tallest
And we all lived in its shadow
But that was just how things were
And then came Paul
Who told his story of being blinded by this Jesus and his light
And it seemed like some of the light had stuck to him
He called himself the worst disciple, and so we felt like we could listen to him, and maybe change too
And so we started coming to hear him teach, first in the synagogue, and then later in someone’s living room
Mostly we were poor, but we met in a rich man’s house, after long workdays
Gaius was rich, and hospitable, and a few friends of his believed too
And it was beautiful, all of us gathered, rich and poor, slave and just-above-slave, Jew and Greek, believing and living this story together
We broke the same bread, and drank from the same cup, just as Jesus had taught us
And something happened among us, we couldn’t quite explain it, though we tried
And we came back, and back again, and it did change us
The light stuck with us too
But Corinth was still cruel, and it didn’t stop being that way because of a few people talking in someone’s living room
And sometimes most of us couldn’t make it until late anyway, after work
And a few times the early birds opened a nice bottle while they waited, and they had a lot in common to talk about, anyway, and Gaius’ living room slid back into a place where similar friends gathered and the rest of us were just crashing their party
And what did it even mean to follow Jesus in the shadow of the emperor’s church?
And was it real enough to keep us coming back, after Paul and his bright light had left for the next big city?
And was it probably silly that we thought we could make something beautiful
When what is cruel seems more real, and divides us back up and puts us back where we seem to belong more easily anyway
And so, falling apart, we wrote to Paul, with all that was happening, and he reminded us of the story he told us
That on the night that Jesus broke the bread, and taught us to do the same
That night was about him being betrayed
And that is what Jesus asked us to remember- both the gathering of the disciples, and the betrayal, both together
Jesus would die and rise while that community was still broken, but Jesus wouldn’t leave them broken either
Paul had a lot more to say to us in his letter:
That it’s the Spirit that makes us one
Just like a body has many parts
And some are weak, and some are stronger
And we protect the parts that need protection
Because we know we need every part
That my suffering is yours and yours is mine
Your rejoicing is mine and mine is yours
And finally, love. Love that defines it all, love that is the most excellent way.
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. 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.
Paul would have to write to us again, even visit us a few times.
We needed a lot of help.
We didn’t stop being broken, but the body still lived, and the beauty and brokenness could live together, side by side.
So we saved his words for you. We thought you might need them one day, in your own beautiful and cruel city, in the shadow of whatever the people of your day worship.
We wanted you to know what it looked like for us to be one body,
broken and beautiful,
because you are part of us, just as we are part of you.
Our suffering is yours, and yours is ours;
our joy is yours, and yours is ours.
Remember this, remember us, the church in Corinth, as you remember Jesus on this night. We’re remembering him with you too. The body of Christ makes us one, tonight and always.
Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay