January 23, 2005 Des Moines

TEXT: 1 Corinthians 1:10-18

Rightly Aimed

He found it at a garage sale - an old, dirty coffee table. As bad as it looked, covered in an ugly, soiled, and faded coat of white paint and highlighted by an assortment children's crayon marks and nicks and scratches, there was something about it that caught his eye. Perhaps it was the interesting little curlicues that danced around its edges. As ridiculous and impulsive as it was, he bought it and took it home - who knows, the stereo or something might fit on it.

But the stereo never got there. Something about the piece caused the man to visit the hardware store for a quick lesson on furniture stripping, after which he hurried home with a can of paint remover, a scraper, and some steel wool. He finished the preparations and sprayed a coat of the paint remover over the table's unsightly, white-layered surface. The white covering began to bubble; for the first time in some 50 years the paint separated itself slightly from the table's original surface. "What kind of wood had lain innocent beneath that dried layer of paint?" he wondered.

He began to scrape away the blistered skin, and before his eyes a form of rebirth took place. As his hand moved the scraper down the table, he let out a shout of joy. Beneath the scarred surface emerged a beautiful sight - inlaid woods in a variety of colors - maple, walnut, oak in the form of rosebuds. He worked steadily for the next few days, wondering all along how anyone could possibly have painted over such wonderful beauty; covering over the work of that unknown artisan. Was it merely to yield to new styles, fashions? Today, that table occupies an honored place in his living room, its innocent beauty breathing free again for all to see. Restored.

It is something of Paul's concern in this week's scripture lesson - restoration. Something precious and priceless has been painted over with something trendy, but cheap; devaluing the whole piece in the process. It is Paul's intention to rescue that which is being overlooked so cavalierly and restore it to its original authenticity and power.

The city of Corinth must have been an interesting place. A teeming metropolitan commercial area, it was a diverse, busy, and multi-cultural city. Every kind of religion was represented at Corinth, but perhaps their biggest reputation was their lack of religion. Corinth enjoyed - and I use the word advisedly - a kind of "Boy's Town" reputation - a reputation that according to some, the Corinthians "assiduously cultivated." (Conzelman) But located within such a setting was a group of people that Paul had come to love.

The problem is that it was a group of people - a church - that had been infected by a myriad of problems. It is those problems that create the need for this letter - a letter that Paul hopes will be pastoral, but corrective. Some things are going to have to be said that are not going to be easy - easy for him to say or for them to hear. It's interesting, then, to notice – as we did last week – how he starts in the verses leading up to this morning's text: he chooses to begin his message theologically - by establishing the context not only for the letter but for the Corinthians’ life together as Christians. "You are 'holy people'" he tells them; "called to be saints; living square in the middle of God's special love and care and called by God to something special."

"Only now that that context is in our minds," I think Paul is saying, "can we talk about specifics." And it is that which he now turns to do. He rolls up his sleeve, puts on his "parent" voice and goes to work. "I've heard some things from Chloe's people," he begins.

Now, who Chloe was, and what "her people" might have been, is a mystery we'll not be able to answer. Scholars believe that Paul was writing from the city of Ephesus, so she could have been a resident of that city, who had just returned from a visit to Corinth. Or she could have been a resident of Corinth whose "people" - slaves, family members, employees, who knows - had business interests in Ephesus. We'll never know. But in addition to the implication that she was a woman of some means and position, she and her people must also, for Paul, have had credibility. He believed what they said, and followed up on it.

"I hear that there are quarrels among you," he says. It appears that a process of fragmentation was in motion at Corinth. Just how far it had gotten is uncertain, except to say that it hadn't gone too terribly far, because Paul felt he could write to them as a group "confident that all its members would read or hear his letter." (Barrett). And they were evidently still coming together for the common meal, although it was often with unhappy results. But however far the situation had gone, their tendency to form cliques was covering over a prized possession, and it concerned Paul enough that dealing with it is first on his pastoral agenda. Members of the congregation, it seems, have lined up behind one former preacher or another, putting a competitive, divisive edge on the whole situation.

It is here that Paul begins to spray on the paint remover and to work the steel wool pad, with an eye toward uncovering the grain underneath. And it was going to take some scraping. They had focused on secondary things at the expense of primary ones; perhaps winning the battle, but only at the expense of the war. "None of us preachers died for you," Paul says. "Don't make us your focal point. You are not there because of me or any of these other guys. You are where you are because of Christ - because through baptism you are now "in Christ." And so, as if to refer them to the words with which he began, "remember who you are."

You belong to the same mind; to the same body; a body whose spine is formed by a cross that gathers all within its shadow. Be of that same mind, Paul pleads. It is not a call for monotonous uniformity; simply unity. And it is a unity held together, not in the memories of those particular individuals who have baptized you, but in the One you have been baptized into - in the gospel of the crucified Christ.

After twelve years here I am still learning the stories of this particular place and the people, both past and present, who have ministered through it - how we as a congregation came to be, and how you as individuals came to be a part of it. True, some start their stories with the name of the minister who served here at the time, but we are not faced with the kind of cliquishness that confronted Paul. Names are points of reference, not lines of separation. And though the fabric stretches here and there, the seams that hold us together are basically secure. We are, in fact, a community of faith. Still, as we continue to visualize the particular character of our common life together, it's important to strip our own souls down to the bare wood to see - to remember - what we are made of.

A couple of week’s ago we read of Jesus' baptism, and last week Paul suggested that we call to mind our own. Appropriate that today we had the privilege of experiencing one. It's funny, but for a people like ourselves who claim to hold that baptism in such high esteem, we don't give it much notice. Oftentimes we cover it up in the sanctuary so we can't see it, and only rarely take the time to remember our own, and to reflect on it. But let me ask that you take the time. Remember for a moment the death that it represented: the drowning of ourselves and life unto ourselves; the death of a person preoccupied with his of her own furtherance and gratification and priority. Remember that death so that you can also recall the life for which that death made room: a life preoccupied in Christ, and the body into which we are united. Who we are, as individuals and as a church, is wrapped up in to whom we belong - the body of Christ that we have become. To water IT down is to water US down, and we are called to more than that.

It's amazing what can accumulate over the essentials of our faith, and begin to take priority over them - the shape of the building, the color of the pews, who gave what in memory of whom, and maybe even as in Corinth, the memory of former preachers - a little like old white paint, children's crayon marks; varnish and polish, and even dust. What's down there, I wonder; underneath it all - at the foundation? Paul would have us find a cross; a Christ; a community, and a call.