United in the same mind and the same purpose

Epiphany 3A—Texts: 1 Corinthians 1:10-18 and Matthew 4:12-25

We talked last week about Andrew, Simon Peter, and the other disciple. We were given John’s description of events, and I hinted at how it was different from Matthew and Mark on this. Today’s gospel is that case. Like two eye-witnesses of a car accident, we have two differing accounts of the calling of the disciples. Who do we believe? Each of us is tempted to bring out the arguments: “One of them has got to be telling the truth—two differing accounts can’t both be right! Better yet, let’s fight about it! Agreeing to disagree is for pansies!”

Conveniently we have an appropriate reading from Paul [that ___________ read to us today], that begins:

I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose.

I do have to tell you that one of the funniest moments in all of our scriptures happens next. [I don’t know if you heard it the first time], so let me try it again:

I thank God that I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius, so that no one can say that you were baptized in my name. (I did baptize also the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I do not know whether I baptized anyone else.)

So, Paul, are you sticking by your first story: none? Because I counted two plus a whole family, which may have included slaves or servants. And you don’t remember if there were anyone else?

For Paul, the issue isn’t the legalism that is associated with baptism, but the very nature of their conflict. This is a conflict that is dividing the group into different camps drawing their authority from different individuals. His appeal is clearly for the end of conflict. He asks “that all of you be in agreement”. But how?

The Church in Corinth is clearly a problem parish for Paul. Both letters have heavy chastising and attempts to clear up problems that have developed while he was gone. In fact, both letters appear to be responses to letters written to him with certain pressing concerns; in this case arising over what today may be construed as difference over the Baptismal Covenant. When we look at the rest of Paul’s writing, it appears as if Corinth is the only parish that is giving him this level of problem.

Today, most of us seem to take after the Corinthians. We argue and bicker and are certain that our view of the church and scripture is right. Sometimes we do this with force and intimidation—we push our brothers and sisters to think and do as we. Sometimes, we do this with more subtlety—we discourage some and encourage the chosen (those who agree).

We notice this is strongest every year in December and January. It’s quite ironic that Christmas and Epiphany, the time of joy, celebration, and embracing newness and the fullness and vibrancy of God, is the time in which the greatest level of stress and concern happens in every parish. St. David’s isn’t immune. Every year, churches evaluate the previous calendar year (not the church calendar, mind you, but the secular one) and develop budgets for the new fiscal year. Every Episcopal Church in the country is having a meeting this month and today is the last day we could do it. It is by law that we have annual meetings in January, and ours is today.

There are predictable points of conflict in every congregation: the budget, pledging, music, Christian education, buildings and grounds. Someone is going to decry the work of a brother or sister in Christ today. We are going to argue about these materials, regardless of what proposals actually say.

When I here Paul’s words: “all of you be in agreement”, I shiver. We can’t all be in agreement. We not only come from different schools, but for some, this means my school is entirely wrong.

I wasn’t here in 2003. Or 2004. I don’t really know how this congregation dealt with adversity and dissent. I wasn’t here. I was at Holy Family, a small family-sized parish in Midland, Michigan. We had one man and one woman that were incredibly and vocally upset that the Rev. V. Gene Robinson was ordained. We had several more that were excited. We had a plurality that said, “OK, where do we go from here”.

But in examining the situation, I have come to the conclusion, that this isn’t a question of liberalism or conservatism, or even orthodoxy, which doesn’t really mean what most of us thinks it does: it is fundamentalism. It is the belief that in any conflict, the only options are to win or to lose and that the only way to win is to make the other lose. We’re all smart people; we know that we don’t only win or lose. Often we sabatoge situations so that we both lose. Sometimes, we both compromise—something Washington (and Lansing) can do really well, or really, really badly. The highest resolution, however, is the Win-Win—where both sides get what they want—without pulling the other down.

This appears to be closer to what Paul is driving at when he said:

For it has been reported to me by Chloe's people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters.

And he continues by illustrating those quarrels

What I mean is that each of you says, "I belong to Paul," or "I belong to Apollos," or "I belong to Cephas," or "I belong to Christ." Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?

For Paul, no quarrel would be significant enough to reflect a new division of Christ.

And right after his funny who-did-I-baptize bit, he gives us the ultimatum:

For Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel

For Paul, the gospel is it. The purpose for his ministry—for his life. For all that he is and all that he will be. It is the purpose for those around him, including Chloe and Apollos. Baptism is the entrance rite, while the gospel compels us and brings us together.

The gospel is what compels Paul to encourage the group to stay together. It is what the unity of the Body of Christ is about.

What we can control is us. How we love one another. What each of us brings to this community.

Shortly we will be gathering again in another rite of community that isn’t all that different from what we are about to do. We will share the feast at this table and go out into the Great Hall and share another feast together. We are drawn from all over the Greater Lansing Area to not only worship in this community, but to embody the Holy Spirit within this community. We gather annually to do the business of the church, not because it is dirty work that must be done or because it is uncomfortable (though it often feels that way). We gather because the community gathered is the presence of Christ. We gather annually because it is the only way that we seem to all be in one place at the same time for fellowship and ministry. We meet annually, not because Jesus asked us to, or because we have scriptural reason for it (neither of which we have), but because it is a time when we are altogether “united in the same mind and the same purpose.” In Christ.

Before we leave the church, I suggest we turn in our prayer books to page 102—go ahead; keep your thumbs where we were, but turn to page 102—at the very top of the page is A Prayer of St. Chrysostom. This is one of my favorites, and one I think can help us set the tone for both of the feasts we are about to celebrate. Would you please stand and pray this with me.

Almighty God, you have given us grace at this time with one accord to make our common supplication to you; and you have promised through your well-beloved Son that when two or three are gathered together in his Name you will be in the midst of the them: Fulfill now, O Lord, our desires and petitions as may be best for us; granting us in this world knowledge of your truth, and in the age to come life everlasting. Amen.

Person Matthew 4:12-25

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Stir It Up

Epiphany 2A—Text: John 1:29-42

Our gospel from John gives us four characters: Jesus, John the Baptist, Andrew, and Simon Peter. But really, the second half of the passage highlights that nearly beloved disciple, Andrew.

Think about all the things you know about the apostle Andrew. Picture them in your mind and cultivate those images into a vivid picture of discipleship. How perfect it would be if any of us could actually do that.

Andrew is one of those in-between cases in which we know enough about him to consider him a significant part of the story, but not enough to really get a sense of who he was. He seems to have been the top of the second-tier of disciples, who is most famous for being Peter’s brother. Though he gets the occasional shout-out in all four gospels and a single mention in Acts, we know very little about him. Think about this: Peter is the only one that I feel like I know. Next come John and James, who get to participate in ‘the inner circle’. Andrew and Philip, unlike the other disciples, actually get named and do things, but not much.

So who is Andrew? Obviously, he is Peter’s brother, and son of Jonas or John. He was likely born in Bethsaida, and according to Mark and Matthew was the first disciple (along with his brother). In John, today, we heard that he was John the Baptist’s disciple who is introduced to “the lamb of God”. He goes, gets his brother, and starts following Jesus.

John has two other important references to Andrew, one is in chapter 6 when he brings the boy to Jesus who has the two fishes and five loaves, and again in chapter 12 when he, with Philip, brings a group of Gentiles to Jesus. That’s about it (scripturally).

According to the ancient historian, Eusebias, Andrew traveled to Scythia (modern day southern Russia and Ukraine) making him the apostle to the Northeast. He is a patron saint of Patras, where tradition holds that he was crucified, not on a normal cross, but on a saltire cross (shaped like an X), as well as the patron of Scotland.

Andrew has afforded the church many opportunities to fill in the blanks. What we do know about what really happened during the second half of the first century can probably be counted on a hand or two. The second century is a little bit better. We started keeping better records, we began to organize, and we developed official truths.

But there are many truths.

I’m a postmodernist at heart. Like my modernist ancestors, I am desperate to know the one true reality; but unlike them, I know that I am asking for the impossible. We don’t really know who Andrew was. We know what is written about him, but we don’t know anything else. Really, how is that any different than our knowledge of the most infamous among us? I like legal shows—more Boston Legal and its predecessor The Practice than Law and Order—and the more you watch, the harder it is to see who is innocent and who is guilty. Making it even harder is the question so often explored on Boston Legal—who is guilty, but deserving of freedom and who is innocent, but deserving of punishment. The very notion that we can be ethically and morally repugnant and still righteous in the eyes of the law is so confusing to us. In fact, the main character, Alan Shore may best be described as ethically reprehensible and yet morally upstanding—in fact, his character has evolved into a champion of the greatest elements of our very nature, while opening ourselves to our basest and destructive tendencies.

Another example, this from the silver screen is Juno, the lead character in the film of the same name. Juno is a brash, slightly hedonistic 16 year-old who gets pregnant. Unlike the real-life Jamie Lynn Spears, the vapid younger sister of Brittany that is the new poster-child for teen pregnancy, Juno is a smart, articulate, and witty teenager, raised by her father and step-mother that would seem to be nobody’s preferred role models…until you see how much they really love their daughter. But Juno represents that strange prophetic voice that doesn’t “tell it like it is” (which is really a euphemism for being rude), but chooses to say things the way they come to her—and they actually turn out to be the things people need to hear. Above all, she’s honest.

Juno’s world, very much like our own—especially churchland—is trying to persuade her to follow along, to tow the line, and to participate fully on their terms. The film can teach us a lot about who we are called to be; and for many of us, that’s a lot more like Juno.

Juno and Andrew actually have a lot in common. Andrew certainly is not portrayed as being blunt—but is courageous. Think about what’s going on here. Andrew and the unnamed disciple are hanging out with John and John, says (essentially) “Look, there’s the son of God” and so he stands up and starts walking behind him.

And Jesus, after a few minutes, notices that he’s being followed, turns to them and says “What are you looking for?” Now if it were us, we would say a whole host of things, right? Salvation, relief, compassion, meaning. All sorts of stuff. But that isn’t Andrew. “What are you looking for?” His response? “Where are you staying?” What? Huh? Really?

Andrew’s response was direct and honest. “You. I’m looking to follow you.” But instead of saying those protective words, those sheltered words, he skips ahead to what amounts to “So where are we going? I’m following you and I’m looking for the place where you’re going to teach me.

Each of John’s descriptions of Andrew highlights his place as a willing missionary, bringing people to Jesus. He brings his brother, he brings the boy, he brings Gentiles. And each example gives us illustration of what our commitment to this ministry can be.

1. First Andrew brings his family, his brother. This man was also a coworker (both fishermen).
2. Then he brings a boy, showing a willingness to encourage participation and sacrifice of his lunch.
3. Lastly, he brings strangers and outsiders to Jesus. They aren’t circumcised—they aren’t Jews.

This Epiphany, as we get to know our God a little better, we have the opportunity to explore who we are called to be, and how we be. We are called to stir things up and mess up each other’s perfectly set hair. We are called to speak with truth, not the truth. We are called to praise God in the voice God gave us, not the way someone else expects to hear it. We are called to be difficult.

Some of our best examples are courageous, difficult people. These are gifts that usually come in the most unlikely of packages. Just weeks ago, we were reminded that the lamb of God was not born to old woman, like Elizabeth, but to a girl. Its time that we listen to the girls and boys around us.