1 Co 1:10-18

23 January 2005

“Red, Blue, and Purple”

            In recent years, America—and American people—have increasingly been portrayed as belonging to one side or the other in the so-called culture wars.  You know, it’s not enough for us to have cultural differences; we have to be at war!  Going along with that belligerent attitude, we’ve literally been painted with different colors.  That works fine for those seeking a knee-jerk, simplistic approach to complicated issues.  It fits in well with the format of certain talk shows that ignore the reality of nuance—shows that generate plenty of heat, but very little light.

            I guess I’m not the only one who became aware of these colors during the 2000 presidential election.  The states that supported the Republican, George W. Bush, were presented by all the major networks in red on their national maps.  Those going for the Democrat, Al Gore, were presented in blue.  I’m still not sure how they all agreed on those colors.  If someone has the answer, please educate me!

            Anyway, red and blue have quickly evolved into designations of a whole constellation of factors.  The very nature of the beast—that is, painting people with broad brushstrokes—requires that stereotypes be made.  Red is taken to mean conservative, Southern, Midwestern, religiously fundamental, etc.  Extreme blue staters would say that these folks’ favorite artist is Norman Rockwell.  Blue is taken to mean liberal, Northern, West coast, religiously progressive, etc.  Extreme red staters would say that these folks’ favorite artist is Robert Mapplethorpe.  At least, that’s my take of the stereotypes!

            A lot of people have rejected this either-or, red-blue dichotomy.  They’ve said that most states, just like most Americans, are somewhere in between.  Most of us are a shade of purple.

            Unfortunately, this division of red and blue exists within the church, as well.  We may not use those colors to describe each other, but the idea behind those colors is very much present.  What I mean is this:  we find any number of ways to focus on the differences among us—and not for the purpose of mutual encouragement, but for mutual destruction.

            In today’s epistle reading, the apostle Paul deals with something very similar in the church at Corinth.  It’s been said that church fights are the nastiest because the stakes are so low.  That might sound surprising.  It doesn't mean that Christ doesn't matter.  Rather, it’s that compared with Christ, nothing matters as much.[1]

            The Christians of Corinth are trying to outdo each other, to see who’s more holy.  (As if such competition makes you holy to begin with!)  By the way, this doesn’t seem to be one of our greatest temptations.  Competing in holiness is something that doesn’t seem to afflict a great deal of Presbyterians.

            In any event, the Corinthian believers have been claiming that they belong to various leaders in the church.  Some profess allegiance to Paul, others to Apollos, and still others to Cephas (a.k.a. Peter).  But my personal favorites are the ones who say, “I belong to Christ” (v. 12).  I belong to Christ.  I don’t know what the deal with the rest of you is, but brother…sister, you better get it together!

            That group reminds me of congregations who claim to be the one true church.  Everyone else is just a bunch of poseurs, if not even worse:  a bunch of heretics.

            The apostle makes it clear that he wants no part of this cult of personality.  He doesn’t want to be the object of hero worship.  His approach is this:  “Thank God that the only people I baptized among you were Crispus and Gaius.  Oh yeah…and some people at Stephanas’ place.  But I think that’s it!”  Were Paul to go along with this drawing of attention to himself, it would be a case of turning the gospel upside down.  It would be idolatry.

            When we read verse 10, with its talk of “agreement” and “no divisions” and being “united in the same mind and the same purpose”—as well as similar statements elsewhere in the scriptures—it seems that differences are things to be discouraged.  Like Paul asks in verse 13, “Has Christ been divided?”  If we say “no,” which is the expected answer, then how is the Corinthian church to explain itself?

            How is the American church to explain itself?  How are we to explain ourselves?  I think it’s important to recognize that unity and uniformity are not the same things.  Communion and conformity are not the same things.  It is inevitable that there will be differences, variety, divisions among us.  That’s how God created us.  There will be disagreements.  Jesus doesn’t call his church to behave like some mind control cult.

            So, how do we find our way through the blizzard of competing opinions, personalities, and values?  I imagine the Corinthian church has questions just like that.  Paul’s answer comes in verses 17 and 18.  He brings the attention of his audience back to the cross of Christ.

            One writer has commented, “The gospel with its center in the cross, a public event of brokenness and failure, stands in stark contrast to…Corinthian hero worship.  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.  Paul [does] much more than [just gripe] about division; it is so easy to [gripe about] things going wrong.  Paul is bringing the Corinthians back to basic values, with the defiant symbol of the cross.”[2]

            The cross is the exact opposite of what we might call “the conventional wisdom.”  Jesus isn’t ruling anything from the cross; it’s his death!  It speaks of an event in which all is lost.  That’s how the disciples felt at the time!  That’s why they ran and hid!  The cross, that experience of self-sacrifice, regards our self-promotion as foolishness, even though we think we’re being wise.

            The cross of Christ calls into question all of our usual assumptions about how to get things done in the world.

            Still, even though the Corinthians who Paul addresses are missing the point, they still get something that we in America don’t.  Notice how they claim to belong to various figures.  For us to claim to belong to someone else sounds degrading.  That’s not what we call freedom!  “Hey buddy, I belong to myself!”

            Lillian Daniel, a UCC minister in Connecticut, reflects on this.[3]  “Paul refuses to allow others to belong to him, and in so doing he refuses to belong to himself.  God’s story does not begin or end with him, but in Christ.  Paul turns us away from our own pleasure and comfort to the cross.  In a world in which we are supposed to belong only to ourselves, Paul reminds us of a time when the church made harder claims.

“He points us to Christ who will not be divided, and to a small church community worth fighting for.”

Are we red?  Are we blue?  Are we purple?  Those colors miss the point.  If that’s how we describe ourselves, we empty the cross of its power.  We rely on purely human methods.

            In a few moments, we’ll receive a new member into the church.  We do so while we reaffirm the promises made between God and ourselves over the water of baptism.  In that water, our distinctions—our divisions—are drowned.  The water of baptism washes away the red and blue paint with which we smear ourselves and others.  We need that water to wash out our mouths—to pronounce blessings, rather than curses.

            We reaffirm the covenant made with us by God:  to drown our divisions, to wash away the junk we apply to ourselves, to wash out our mouths from hateful and harmful words.  God offers the covenant.  Let us accept it and live in it.

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