1 Co 1:10-18

27 January 2008

“Looking Like a Fool”

            Judging by my sermon title, you might think that I’m already an expert at that particular activity.  Still, our epistle reading isn’t about looking like a fool in the generic sense.  It’s not about looking like just any kind of fool.  No, what Paul is talking about is looking like a fool for Christ.  That’s one kind of fool that I’m far from expert at.  But the apostle’s interaction with the church in Corinth provides him ample opportunity for practice!

            Last week, I suggested that we read 1 Corinthians to see some of the issues that Paul has to deal with.  The first one is the problem of factions, people dividing up and going in different directions.  He says that “it has been reported to me by Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters.  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’” (vv. 11-12).

            First, let me do some name identification.  Chloe may or may not be a Christian.  It’s likely she’s a rich woman with some Christian slaves who has visited Corinth.  (Remember what I said last week about the city being a wealthy seaport.)  If Paul’s informers actually are from Corinth, revealing his source may be bad news for them.  But no one knows for sure who Chloe and her people are.[1]

            Paul needs no introduction.  Apollos is someone known to be “an eloquent man, well-versed in the scriptures” (Ac 18:24).  Cephas is the Aramaic form of Peter.  And then there’s Christ.  Maybe the crew that claims they belong to him is subtly suggesting that Christ belongs to them and no one else.  Or maybe subtlety doesn’t even figure in the equation; maybe they’re very out front with that claim!

            It’s not that Paul has a beef with any of these figures—or the people who claim to follow them.  (I would presume that he doesn’t have a beef with himself—or with Christ!)  It seems that he’s truly dismayed that the church has divided itself, even to the point of saying, “I belong to so-and-so.”  We can see his state of astonishment in verse 13:  “Has Christ been divided?  Was Paul crucified for you?  Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?”

            With their competition—and be sure, it is competition—they’re showing that they are completely missing the point of the gospel.  They’re slipping into idolatry; they’re fostering a cult of personality.

            Bill Loader has noted that it “turns the gospel upside down if we have to prove ourselves to ourselves or others like this.  Worse still, it means we are competing in the market of affection, and there it cannot be in our interests that others succeed at our expense.  It develops a mean spirit and almost inevitably creates division.”[2]  I imagine we all can think of times and places in our own experience when this very thing has happened.

“People in professions where affections can be won and lost, especially those with a public role, are particularly susceptible to such dangers.  [Politicians and ministers] are among its best perpetrators.  It is ultimately a form of abuse.”

Paul doesn’t play that game.  In fact, he’s glad that he’s performed as few baptisms among them as he has.  I find it interesting that he leaves in the letter an off-the-cuff remark.  “Oh yeah, I also baptized Stephanas and his folks.  Was there was anybody else?  You’ll have to get back to me on that.”  If he were lobbying for brownie points (or maybe funding for the next fiscal year), you better believe he’d have his records in order!

But Paul is far from apologetic.  He immediately says that “Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power” (v. 17).  That bit about “eloquent wisdom” speaks to Paul’s focus on preaching the good news.  And he’s not terribly concerned if he isn’t considered to be a grand orator.

The Greeks placed great value on eloquence and beauty.  They thought as highly of it as we do having good business sense—or being cool.  Of course, any of that can, and does, replace Jesus Christ.  With Paul’s critique of the Corinthians’ tendency to exaggerate eloquence, he sounds a note that is picked up in our Book of Order.  (There’s some good stuff in there!  It’s not all dry, dusty rules!)

The Book of Order, in W-1.3034, speaks of artistic expression in the Reformed heritage.  “The people of God have responded through creative expressions in architecture, furnishings, appointments, vestments, music, drama, language, and movement.  When these artistic creations awaken us to God’s presence, they are appropriate for worship.”  Cool!

“When they call attention to themselves, or are present for their beauty as an end in itself, they are idolatrous.  [Not cool!]  Artistic expressions should evoke, edify, enhance, and expand worshipers’ consciousness of the reality and grace of God.”

And all of that can be used for mission.  “Christian worship…with the use of God’s material gifts, should lead the church into the life of the world to participate in God’s purpose to redeem time, to sanctify space, and to transform material reality for the glory of God” (W-1.3040).  There is a fine line between appreciating beauty the way one would in an art gallery and the way one would in worship.  It’s a fine line, but it does exist.

We hear Paul say, “Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom.”  But notice how he finishes:  “so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power.”  What in the world does that mean?  So that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power?

For me, two questions immediately come to mind.  First, what is the cross, and second, what is its power?  How can something (the cross) that represents utter defeat, complete death—a total denial—how can such a thing have any power?  And Paul is worried that it could be emptied of its power?  Well, that’s just foolish!

Our friend Bill Loader chimes in, “those who were elevating their successes were also reflecting their own theology:  that God’s preoccupation is power and might and glory—to be emulated [to be imitated] by his worshippers!”[3]  Throughout history, most concepts of God, or the gods, have been about stuff like power and might and glory.  With Jesus, we have a new concept:  God as powerless and frail and unattractive.

He goes on, “Paul’s model for emulation is a moment where love reaches a dramatic climax and appears lost in defeat.  That, Paul will argue, is the only life and only path to resurrection.  That is the only way to think of God’s power.”  It’s only when everything is lost that God’s power is fully revealed.  At some gut level, I guess I’ve always known that, but I’ve never wanted to get to that point!

I’ve recently spoken of my flirtation with quantum physics.  In his book Zero, Charles Seife speaks of the power of zero, the power of nothing.  He says there’s energy in what we call a vacuum.  At every point in space, there are an infinite number of particles winking in and out of existence.[4]  I see that as part of the ongoing work of creation.  Still, I have as much trouble getting my head around that as I do the spiritual counterpart of zero:  the cross.

The power of the cross is the complete reversal of all our expectations.  If you want to get something done, it’s the very last thing you would try.  That’s why Paul adds, “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (v. 18).  What appears to be madness and foolishness is actually the greatest wisdom of all.

I’ve quickly gone through with how Paul deals with division in the Corinthian church.  But there’s still a lingering question.  Why are they divided in the first place?  How has this state of affairs arisen:  the division, the competition, the conflict?  Has some saboteur been spreading rumors?

I wonder if our friend James isn’t on to something in his epistle when he goes on this rant:  “Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from?  Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you?  You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder.  And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts.  You do not have, because you do not ask.  You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, in order to spend what you get on your pleasures” (4:1-3).

It seems that the division we see in the church of Corinth is but an outward expression.  Division starts from within.  We are creatures who aren’t at peace with ourselves.  I don’t suppose I need to connect the dots and let you know that the situation Paul faces in Corinth isn’t unique.  It happens everywhere, all the time.  It’s not always at the same level of severity, but it’s still there.

So, why should the squabbling Corinthians listen to Paul?  Why should we listen to him?  How does Paul assert his authority?  Could it be in the way he begins his appeal?  “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” (v. 10).

He uses the one name—the one authority—that can draw them (and us) together.  “By the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”  He appeals to the one who is life.  He dismisses the idols that they (and we) have been seeking, be it eloquence, beauty, success (however it’s defined), or whatever.  But by asking “that all of you be in agreement,” is Paul asking for everyone to think the same way?

There’s a little story I once heard, or read (I don’t recall which), about a student and a rabbi.  The student goes to the rabbi and asks, “Is it true that we all are created in God’s image?”  “That is true,” says the rabbi.  “Well, if that’s the case,” the student responds, “why are there so many differences among us?  We come in all shapes and sizes; we have different skin colors and speak different languages; we have all kinds of likes and dislikes.”  The rabbi paused a moment and said, “It’s because we all are created in God’s image.”

Diversity and division are not the same things.  Division arises when we cling to our idols.  It’s been said, “Perhaps, our inability to live with diversity within Christianity is a result of our inability to place God at the center of our faith.  The ‘foolishness of the cross’ reflects the divine ‘foolishness’ [the foolishness of Christ] that embraces friend and foe alike.”[5]

Remember, Paul doesn’t criticize the Corinthians for having various viewpoints.  The problem is that they cling to their positions, and they harden themselves against each other.  They don’t believe that anybody in one of the “rival camps” has something to contribute.  And no one wants to look foolish enough to admit it.

I think we empty the cross of its power when we cling to anything else—when we substitute something else in its place.  We all have our idols; we all have things we use as substitutes.  What does that mean for you?  What are your idols?  What do you substitute, so that you won’t look foolish?

What do we do to avoid looking foolish?  What excuses do we use?  How can we foster change as a community, so that God can replace our idols?  How can we proclaim the power of the cross?

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