Sermon April 29, 2007: The Weak, the Strong, and a Commitment to Community

As I grew up in Georgia, church defined my life. I faithfully attended services every Sunday morning and evening and also on Wednesday nights, not to mention Vacation Bible School, youth group activities, “revivals,” mission conferences, and any other occasions when the doors might open. The church told me how to believe, who to trust or distrust, and how to behave.

During high school our church met in a concrete-block building on the grounds of a former pony farm. Several of the former stable buildings were still standing, littered with hay, and one Sunday morning the largest of those buildings burst into flames. Fire trucks noisily arrived, the deacons dashed about moving lumber and uncoiling hoses, and all of us church members stood and watches as orange flames climbed the sky and heat baked our faces. Then we solemnly filed back into the sanctuary, covered with the scent of burnt straw and charred timbers, and listened to our pastor deliver an impromptu sermon on the fires of Hell which, he assured us, were seven times hotter than what we had just witnessed.

That image lived long in my mind because this was a “hellfire and brimstone” church. We saw ourselves as a huddled minority in a world full of danger. Any slight misstep might lead us away from safety toward the raging fires of Hell. Like the walls of a castle, church offered protection against the scary world outside. I remember the satisfying feeling that came from belonging to a persecuted minority.

My church frowned on such activities as roller-skating (too much dancing), bowling (some alleys serve liquor), going to movies, and reading the Sunday newspaper. The church erected this thick wall of external rules to protect us from the sinful world outside, and in a way it succeeded. Today I could do any of those activities with an clean conscience, but I am also aware that the terrible strictness of fundamentalism kept me from deeper trouble.

The point of people engaging in strict legalism is to pull in the boundaries of rebellion; for example, sometimes we might sneak off to a bowling alley, but we would never think of touching liquor or drugs. Sometimes, though, that completely backfires on the people, and those under lock and key bust out and completely reject all the boundaries of their prior community because it was so unhealthy.

When I read Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth, I see that a spirit of barely controlled chaos reigned. The letters show who made up the congregation: Jewish merchants, gypsies, Greeks, prostitutes, drunkards, folks in the grip of greed, slanderers, pagan worshipers. Paul battled church splits, had to remind them that incest was a disgusting practice, and fought to keep the Lord’s Supper from turning into a free-for-all. Corinth makes my church seem boring.

Most scholars believe 1 Corinthians predates almost every other book in the New Testament. The first few chapters show the apostle struggling with a basic question: “Just what is this thing called a church?” (On some things Paul was very restrictive, and on other things Paul said, “Why are you arguing over these non-essential things?”)

And here in Romans 14:1-12, Paul presents ANOTHER view of boundaries and community!

Paul in this case seems to be making the problem worse not better. Here you have groups in the church disagreeing over what days are sacred and what do on those days, and disagreeing over what foods should and should not be eaten. And their feelings are strong about this, and they are starting to say things and do things relationally that are destructive to true fellowship (despising, judging, not accepting), and Paul comes along and instead of saying, “Lighten up, these things are minor and don’t merit strong convictions,” he says, “Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.” That looks to me at first like trying to put out a fire with a bucket of gasoline: “OK all you squabblers over less important issues, let’s all get a firm conviction! No wafflers here. No fence-sitters. Everybody come to the conversation with a passionate, clear conviction!”

You see, in this section of Scripture, Paul isn’t as concerned about what people are taking stands on, whether eating or the day of worship, he doesn’t rip into either party…

Paul’s approach here INSTEAD is to imagine a partner in conversation who represents specific groups or people who take certain positions in the church, and addresses most directly each member’s attitude towards others in the church. As I read this passage, a passage from 1 Corinthians 13 rang in my head;

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.” You see, Paul’s not saying speaking in tongues or prophesying or understanding or great faith or giving to the poor is wrong, he’s saying if you don’t love the folks around you, you’re nothing. What does NOTHING include?

You see, Paul’s approach allows the Roman Christians to listen nondefensively, and it calls them to abandon their own tendencies to judge or despise one another by reflecting on their common destination: the judgment seat of God. (talk about the experience cutting to the bone, but if we love and love our neighbors, the judgment seat will be an opportunity to face God and say, God, I’d given it my shot)

Paul’s argument in this section is very God-centered, like he is in Romans 9-11. This suggests that some of the cultural tensions that have arisen because of Jewish priority and Gentile numerical superiority may be at work here. It is significant that Paul never actually identifies the “strong” or the “weak,” except to say in 14:2 that the “weak” person eats only vegetables. It seems that maybe the “strong” group has written to describe the situation. If that is the case, Paul identifies himself with the group’s position on matter of food and observance of days in 15:1 when he says “we who are strong,” but not with their stance toward those whom they consider “weak.”

Maybe Paul shares the assumption that the “strong” are Gentile Christians and Jewish Christians, such as Paul, Prisca, and Aquila, who no longer observe dietary laws or keep the Sabbath. In this view, the “weak” are Jewish Christians who still consider themselves bound to keep these regulations as well as Gentiles who have converted who thought they needed to set down a hard-and-fast day of worship.

Again, Paul does not focus on the sources or causes of differing perspectives, such as ethnic divisions, or vegetables, or treating all days alike or treating or some as distinctive. He focuses, instead, on the attitudes towards others who have made different decisions about these issues.

14:3 Those who eat must not despise those who refrain, and those who refrain must not judge those who eat; for God has welcomed them.

Paul’s rhetorical question in 14:4- Who are you to judge the household servants of another? builds on his earlier argument at 12:1-2 that in baptism believers have become the possession of their Lord and demonstrate that lordship in their embodied actions

Romans 12:1-2:

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God- this is your spiritual act of worship.”

(Why do you judge your brother (or sister)?)

Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? form an inclusio with 14:4

Who are you to judge someone else’s servant?

(Deal with two layers of judgment here

1) Held accountable for judgment of sin (1 Corinthians 5:12-13)

2) Cannot judge by taking the place of God to end the life of another (or taking advantage of another’s weakness to declare them not worthy of the community of God’s people)

The next step in Paul’s argument is to reduce the importance of these particular decisions about central aspects of Christian life by insisting that all of Christian life is lives in the presence of God, and that everything Christians do is done under the aspect of eternity.

We do not live for ourselves, nor do we die for ourselves.

If we live, we live for the Lord, and if we die, we die for the Lord;

Therefore, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.

For to this purpose Christ died and lived again;

That he might be Lord over both the living and the dead. (7-9)

Vivid image here: the entire community standing before the judgment seat of God and with the powerful word of the Judge spoken to the community through the words of Scripture:

As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess God. (14:11)

The community is dramatically called to account for their present judging and despising behavior by the very Lord in whose honor they are doing the activities that divide them! Paul only has to underline the point: “so then, each of us will have to render an account to God.” (14:12)

(judgment will make our knees shake irregardless because of the holiness of God, but how that judgment plays out will be radically different depending on how our lives are lived and what we care most about)

A religion based on externals is easy to cast aside, and that is what I did for a period of time. When I moved out to taste the broader world for myself, I rejected the legalistic environment of my childhood. They talked about Grace but lived by Law; they spoke of love but showed signs of hate. I see now that the Deep South fundamentalism of my childhood represented far more than a place of worship or a spiritual community. It was a controlled environment, a subculture. I now recognize that a harsh church, full of fierce condemnation and empty of humility and any sense of mystery stunted my faith for many years. In short, the rules, regulations, and absolutes of the institution of Christianity kept me from seeking a relationship with God. I have spent the rest of my life climbing back toward faith and toward church.

In returning to the church, I found I had a knee-jerk reaction against anything that seemed hypocritical until one day the question occurred to me, “What would the church look like if every member were just like me?” (dangerous question for some vain folks)

Humbled from this question, I realized that God is the ultimate judge of hypocrisy in the church, and so I began to relax and grow more forgiving of others. After all, who has a perfect spouse, or perfect parents or children? We do not give up on the institution of family because of its imperfections- why give up on the church?

This is a big old ship, Bill. Sometimes it seems she sails on smooth waters, and it seems like nothing can slow her down. Other times she creaks, she rocks, she rolls, and at times she makes you want to throw up. But she gets where she’s going. Always has, always will, till the end of time. With or without you.