Together Through Questions

1 Corinthians 1:10-18

For 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.'

When I was in 8th grade English, I was forced to read a work of fiction that I hated. Ha-ted. In fact, my whole class did. With semi-rebellious groans, we opened our Language Arts textbooks to George Orwell’s Animal Farm, and we read it aloud and discussed it for about two weeks. But it seemed to last for a century. . . We absolutely hated it! Like the animal characters in Animal Farm, we probably wanted to stage a revolt, overtake our teacher, create our own lesson plan, and raise a huge flag to tell the world that the classroom was now ours and ours alone.

But why did we hate it so much? I’m not entirely sure. It wasn’t difficult reading, at least in vocabulary sense. But even though we could read the words aloud with relative ease, I don’t think we understood it at all, not the deeper implications of what the story’s about. We certainly didn't understand that the story pointed to the events which led to the Stalin era of the Soviet Union. George Orwell’s novella is an allegory about human nature, particularly what human beings do so often to one another when they seek to build a society for themselves.

The animals who lived on Manor Farm had experienced enough. Their farmer, Mr. Jones, and his family mistreated all of them, day after day working them to the bone while keeping them only one step away from starvation. Eventually, the animals became inspired when Old Major, a pig on the farm, gave a revolutionary speech as he heroically faced his own death. He envisioned an era when animals could govern themselves, work together, and live in harmony throughout all the farms of England. It was a grand vision. And the animals chased that vision, at least, at the beginning. . .They worked together to overthrow the human leadership of Manor Farm. They ousted Mr. Jones and his family, and in great celebration, they raised a green flag, renaming their home Animal Farm.

But. . . if you've read Animal Farm, you know that life on the farm goes downhill from that point. With enthusiasm and vigor after their recent victory, the animals on the farm begin to make some decisions - decisions about what life and work should look like on their farm and decisions concerning the future of their revolution as a whole. And in the process of making these decisions, some strong leadership emerges from one group of animals in particular: the pigs. The pigs are smart, they have great oratory skills, and they seem to have such great vision for everyone! The other animals quickly fall in line. But it doesn't take long for specific pigs to emerge in leadership. . . And then it becomes a race for power. More and more power. . . more schisms. . . more division. . . violence. . oppression of the other animals. . . These struggles increase in a long, sinister crescendo until Orwell closes his work with the shocking observation of one of the horses: Clover sees a pig walking on its hind legs.

The farm has come full circle. Through the continuous grasping for power, the pigs became as corrupt as their human masters had been. Tragic.

And in our scripture text, we see that others are grasping for power, or at the very least, they are factioning themselves - splitting off into various groups according to where they most want to put their allegiance. The Corinthian Church was a place of vibrant ministry and strong faith. The members of the church in Corinth were certainly beloved by Paul, the missionary and preacher who founded their community together, and he penned the two letters addressed to the congregation in Corinth which are a part of our New Testament. Here is are some words from these letters which reminded the people how dear they were to the apostle Paul:

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind -- just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you - (1 Corinthians 1:4-6)

and --

For though you might have ten thousand guardians in Christ, you do not have many fathers. Indeed, in Christ Jesus I became your father through the gospel. (1 Corinthians 4:15).

The church at Corinth was beloved. But like any church - like any family - the people of Corinth had some problems too. Like any church - like any family - they had some squabbles and differences of opinion. We learn about these disagreements right from the outset of the letter that Paul wrote to the people.

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

Then he asks a jarring question, "Has Christ been divided?" Wow. . . what a question. . . Has Christ been divided. . .? That question seems to bring out the grief of the tragedy that occurs everytime those who have been tethered together in love, service, mission, and meaning are torn apart - not by others, not by circumstances, but by themselves. It is tragic, isn't it?

Factionizing. . . That's not outside of our experience either. The people in the church of Corinth were splitting their allegiances based upon individuals who had influenced the community. Some stood behind Paul. Others behind Apollos. Others behind Cephas. Others behind Christ. But none of these figures - as important as they were - desired a schism in the people of God. And when that happened - the members of Christ - divided Christ by dividing themselves.

We do it too, don't we? Perhaps we stand behind particular Christians theologians who have been formative to our life and ministry. "We belong to Luther!" "We belong to Calvin!" "We belong Wesley!"

But we do it in other ways too. Like our culture of rampant consumerism, we often want to make Christianity a brand. We speak in language of "our Christianity" and "their Christianity" as if we're consumers, or worse, owners of a way to practice faith. We might not make a particular theologian or historical figure our poster child. . .Instead, we might make an issue our poster-child. Or we might use code words to help others know our place on the theological continuum. "We're a Bible-believing church." "We're an inclusive church."

Well, hopefully we are a church where the Bible has meaning for our lives. And hopefully, we are a church where all our welcome. But sometimes, we American Christians use words like these and other phrases, not to define who we are, but to show who we're not. We like to 'other' one another. Sadly, we often choose to view one another through a one-dimensional lens and make many assumptions about people who have different convictions than we do or who articulate their Christian faith with vocabulary that isn't our own.

So what do we do about this? Well, the answer isn't simple. In fact, it's probably pretty messy. Because the truth is this: Each of us does have convictions that may be in conflict with others. We don't all articulate our faith the same way. We don't always agree. This isn't always a bad thing either. It might even be necessary. I'll be the first to tell you that I don't agree with every Christian conviction out there. But I'll also be the the first to tell you that I am very guilty of "othering" those from whom I might be able to learn.

So the way forward is not simple or clear. It's messy. But thanks be to God that it is, because the way forward calls us to listen to one another, and that's a practice we all need. We all need to move forward in relationship, and relationships are often messy.

What do I mean by messy? I mean that we might misunderstand one another. We might be in conflict. We might realize that we need to sit back for a moment and learn from those who are making claims that are different from our own. This is hard to practice for us, but it is our call.

I'll tell you a story. Years ago when I was in seminary, my husband and I were invited to have Thanksgiving dinner with the extended family of a good friend. I was thankful for the invitation and. . . scared. Yes, scared. My friend's family included incredible people - people who are kind, considerate, and hospitable. I also knew that they were strong people of faith. I admired that. But I was afraid because I knew that they were Christians whose theological affiliations were different than my own. Specifically, I was afraid about what they'd think of a woman in seminary studying to be a pastor. The are no female pastors in their Christian denomination, and I felt pretty confident that they'd disagree with what I was hoping to do. I was afraid of the questions - or accusations - that may come up over our mashed potatoes.

And I was astonished by our time together. One woman, a long-time friend of the family, is an extremely bright woman who cares about religion, philosophy, law, and politics. She's brilliant. I learned during our time together, that she used to teach a college that's known for being very conservative, but she felt that she had been pushed out because she was more conservative than others.

Again, I was nervous. I made entirely too many assumptions about this woman. I wasn't wrong about this family's affiliation but I temporarily 'othered' them and made too many assumptions. After talking about many issues around the table for three hours, I was stunned when this brilliant woman - from a Christian tradition that is in some ways so different from my own - referred to me as a 'theologian' out of great respect for me. I was humbled in those moments, realizing that I had been viewing her as one-diminsional all along. And I was also able to see her as a 'theologian,' one who speaks words about God in meaningful ways.

And I also learned this important lesson: The people around that table were asking different faith questions than I had been asking. Would we have had the same answers to many of our questions? Some, perhaps, but to others, no. Could we have respected one another in that process? Yes. More importantly, I learned that we each need the questions of others. This family was asking questions that I've stopped asking, and I need those questions. I also need to listen to convictions that come out of their questions. Whether I agree or not, I need their perspective. I am not to divide myself from those who may even demonstrate Christ to me!

This a truth I have to re-learn over and over because too often I fall into the trap of factionizing.

So who do we 'other?" Who do you 'other?' How can you learn from someone with whom you disagree? What questions are people asking? How can we be people who collect questions together and respect those questions?

Renee Roederer

Director of Young Adult Ministries

PPC L.I.F.T.