B Epiphany 5 SJUCC 2021
I Corinthians 9:1, 16-27
February 7, 2021
I spent a little under a year as a UCC
missionary in Chiapas working with the Roman Catholic Diocese there. Because that missionary stint was in between
my second and third year in seminary, I needed a mentor to receive seminary
credit for my experience. What I got in
a mentor was a person full of a sense of humor, courage, humility, and kindness
in Bishop Samuel Ruiz Garcia. Nominated
for the Nobel Peace Prize several times, Bishop Ruiz came to and was converted
in his ecclesiastical office in much the same way as the late Oscar Romero, the
martyred El Salvadoran priest, who was canonized as a saint in 2018. Like Romero, Bishop Ruiz was a man of letters
who was eventually converted by the poor and oppressed in his diocese. He loved gadgets and was an avid ham radio
operator that spent time learning English and the seven Mayan dialects in his
diocese by listening.
Bishop Ruiz was such a powerful presence for
the indigenous of Chiapas that after a paramilitary group broke into his living
quarters in the cathedral, seeking to assassinate him, the indigenous Maya
people ringed the Cathedral several-people-deep 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for
several weeks, as a form of protection.
I remember sitting beside him at a grand
banquet for the diocese to which he invited me.
To my left was Bishop Ruiz. To my
right were a group of several Maya teenage girls who spoke the Chol dialect, known
by the pattern and style of their colorful blouses. They went on and on in conversation with each
other, often softening to a whisper as they stole glances at Bishop Ruiz. When he thought it appropriate, he broke into
their conversation with a smile and spoke something in Chol to them. As they realized he had understood every
single word they had said, their faces turned a bright red, their hands came up
over their mouths in surprise and embarrassment, and they all joined together
in laughter. With the grace and good
humor he always kept, he smiled at them to let them know there were no
worries. When he rose to speak, he spent
the next 30 minutes encouraging Biblical literacy in the diocese by explaining
the Exodus story to all of the people gathered, sounding not unlike Dr.
King.
Bishop Ruiz mirrored this beautiful
spirituality of mission explained by the apostle Paul in one of his letters to
the political associations in Corinth—the radical Scripture verse we have
before us today. Paul writes, “To the
Jews I became as a Jew . . . to those under the Law I became as one under the
Law . . . to those outside the Law I became as one outside the Law . . . to the
weak I became as the weak.” In a society
that had become about spiritual ambition and societal advancement, “puffing
oneself up,” Paul shares God’s love for diversity and freedom so that all might
know Christ’s love and peace. He becomes
and values the people to whom he is in mission.
He learns what it means to be one of them.
We all know this in the home district,
right? When someone comes into our neck
of the woods to tell us “what is what” in the world there is a certain Michigan
litmus test. There may be East Lansing
or Ann Arbor reference points but there is a certain pride about what it means
to be in Jackson and one of the historical churches that has led the way in
Jackson. We all want to know that
whoever has come to missionize us values what we value, identifies with us,
thinks we’re basically “good” people and strong people and speaks our
language.
It’s Biblical geek time and so let’s look at
some of the historical context of this Scripture verse. The ancient city of Corinth was incredibly
diverse, a melting pot of ethnicity and culture. It was destroyed by Roman forces in 146 BCE
and then re-founded as a Roman colony by Julius Caesar in 44 BCE. At its re-founding Julius Caesar repopulated
the city with ex-slaves, other surplus populations from Rome, and army
veterans. It was reorganized as a
thoroughly Roman city, the urban elites defining the architecture and
rebuilding to orient people toward the Roman Temples. The very wealthy sought to establish unity
amidst the city’s multicultural, multi-ethnic groups around the many festivals
and forms of homage given for and on behalf of Caesar. Corinth was a seaport, trade and commerce coming
from all over the Roman Empire with an influx of outsiders. Because of that influx and because so many of
its people had been transplanted from elsewhere, however, the whole city itself
had air of social rootlessness and a lack of cultural orientation among its
many peoples.
Not unlike the rest of Rome, there was a
gaping gulf between the haves and the have-nots in Corinth. Three percent of the population would have
been extremely wealthy, living in luxury and owning most of the productive
land. The remaining 90 percent of the
population lived in or below subsistence level.
The Roman Empire was a slave society. Slaves were so inexpensive that slave
ownership went far down the social scale.
It is estimated that slaves in the Roman Empire made up as much as one-third
of the population. Slaves were
nonpersons, with no legal rights and permanently stigmatized as
dishonorable. Some had it better off
than others, but all slaves experienced what might be called a “social death”
in losing all semblance of family, society, and cultural identity of their
origins.
With so much of Corinth also re-populated by
ex-slaves, those who were now descendants of those ex-slaves would have been
systematically stripped of their race and any other previous identity, lacking
a common ethnicity and culture in their ancestors’ “social death.” Therefore, what would have been left and
valued would have been a desire for social status as a prominent part of their
social ethos.[1] Where they had once had no status at all, now
Corinthians reached, grasped, and exploited their new-found status over and
against others. The letters to the
Corinthians are filled with Paul enjoining the Christians there not to think
themselves having elevated status because of some special wisdom[2] or some
special spiritual gifts[3] or even
sharing communion without the poor because of their elevated special status.[4] Imagine that: a group of Christians who think themselves (church lady voice) “more superior” than
others because of their elevated social status.
Isn’t that special?
In contrast to the social, political, and
economic ambitions of the Corinthians, much of New Testament literature is
laced with language that plays with, at times ridicules, and sometimes even
seeks to overturn, the widespread slavery system in the Roman Empire. For example, in the Gospel of John, Jesus
says to the disciples in the farewell discourse, “I no longer call you slaves,
but friends.”[5] In one of the most well-known letters of
Paul he writes what we now call the Philippian hymn--that Christ did not count
equality with God something to be grasped or exploited but lowered himself in
the form of a slave.[6] Think of how that would have played in the
minds of people who heard and saw that Caesar, the focus of so much prose,
poetry, and Temple worship, every darn day you see it, the guy at the top of
the pyramid, was to be the focus of your life’s ambition. While in the proclamations of the Christian
gospel, Christ had chosen to be divine by living at the bottom of the pyramid—the
place of “social death.” How would that
play to people at the bottom of the pyramid?
That is why when I hear of Christians who
seek special status, I wonder if that is even in keeping with Christian
tradition and Biblical witness. Paul
uses two phrases throughout his letter to the political associations in Corinth
which make it clear that the Christian enterprise is not about arriving at some
more elevated spiritual status. Freedom
is something not afforded a slave. So
those who had arrived, socially, politically, and economically, valued that
word (freedom) not only as moving from a nobody to a somebody but also as
someone who was spiritually better.
Freedom was asserted by people of rank asserting their independence from
those who might qualify or impinge upon their ability to do anything in the
world. How attractive this would be to
people who had long lived at the bottom of the pyramid and now had a chance to
advance through their spiritual communities.
Using a slogan twice that was used by people of rank in the ancient
world, “All things are lawful,”[7] Paul
immediately moves to qualify the statement by saying, “but not all things are
beneficial, but not all things build up.”[8] It is a reminder that even if we think we
have special spiritual status, we are called back into how our freedom can
benefit and build up the entire Body of Christ, the community.
When I went to Mexico to serve the United
Church of Christ several years ago, I was a rather poor missionary. Not poor economically. I stunk at it. Spiritually, I was a baby. Even though I knew better, I thought there
were some special gifts I would be able to bring Guatemalan refugees, displaced
persons in Chiapas, heck even the whole gosh darn State of Chiapas. Maybe my excellent words would lift them out
of poverty and misery and lead to peace across the land? Maybe my well-read theological treatises
might help them to draw closer to Christ and turn the hearts of their
oppressors so that they might live in harmony?
I scoffed at people who had historically brought such hubris to mission
work. Therefore, I was somewhat amazed
that though those thoughts were something I shamed before I headed off in
mission, they were still in my bloodstream. And when I had had just had enough Spanish
to the point where I was exhausted, left bawling in my bed, I wondered aloud
why the people of Mexico did not want my gifts.
Spiritual baby. Not a pretty sight.
About that time, Bishop Ruiz had me hop in
his car to take a ride up to the small community of San Felipé. He
told me that San Felipé was celebrating.
One of the large land owners had sought
to take a home and the land from a family in the community, and, somehow, some
way, the title to the family’s property had been lost in Mexico City. Huh.
Go figure. When you are wealthy
like that, sometimes all things are lawful.
The community had joined with the family to pester and bother and
persist in writing the government in Mexico City, until, land-o-Goshen, the
title had finally been found and stop
writing us letters! So the
community was celebrating!
Even more so, the family had found residence
with others and decided, what was beneficial and to build up the community, was
to give their returned home over for a community center. What a great day. That evening was a lovely fiesta in the new community
center and Bishop Ruiz came out to his car to find someone had placed a
sleeping child, in the back seat of his car for safekeeping. He turned to me with a wry smile and said,
“What are we to do? We have inherited a
child.”
Earlier in
the day, we began the celebration with Bishop Ruiz presiding over Mass. He
led worship from the elevated chancel area.
I tried to be inconspicuous about four pews back as the only white
guy. In the middle of the worship
service, the vaunted Roman Catholic Bishop of San Cristóbal de Las Casas, he
who was called “Tatic” or “Father” by the indigenous Maya, he who was nominated
for the Nobel Peace Prize several times over, asked us to exchange la paz del Cristo. I turned to my left and passed la paz with several of the people from
San Felipe—all gracious and hospitable they were, making me feel welcome. When
I turned back to my right, I was engulfed in a giant bear hug by Bishop Ruiz
who whispered in my ear, in English, the first English I had heard in two
weeks, “May the peace of Christ be with you, Mike.” I bawled.
It is what spiritual babies do.
To the Jews he became as a Jew . . .to those
under the Law he became like one under the Law . . . to those outside the Law
he became like those outside the Law . . . to the weak and spiritual babies, he
spoke beautiful words of English so that I might know we are all free. But . . . it really is all about what is beneficial and
builds up. May you hear God speaking in
your own language, but may you also learn how to speak the language of others, who
have been waiting to hear, far longer than two weeks, God’s peace spoken in
their ear. Amen.
[3] I Corinthians 12
[4] I Corinthians 11
[5] John 15:15
[6] Philippians 2
[7] I Corinthians 6:12; 10:23
[8] Pickett, “Conflicts at Corinth,” p. 130.
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