Dear Preachers:
For the next six weeks we will be hearing from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. It is a “semi-continuous” reading. Let us break a pattern. Many of us preachers go directly to the gospel for our preaching. At least once over the next weeks why not attempt reflecting and preaching from our second reading — I Corinthians?
Today’s passage is the opening of the letter. Paul uses the customary Greek letter form: He begins by introducing himself; addresses those receiving the letter and offers them good wishes. But he does break the pattern by expressing his faith in Christ. It is a clue to his priority.
Regular readers of the Scriptures will be familiar with the tensions in the Corinthian church that Paul will be addressing. In subsequent verses Paul give thanks to God for the richness of the gifts in the Corinthian community (1:4ff). But, as we will discover over these weeks, the community had its “issues” around: marriage, sexual morality, women in the church, worshiping styles, individualism, charismatic gifts and, of course, the resurrection. As we listen to these readings we may be able to discover the parallel between the first-generation church and our own 21st century one. What Paul will say to heal the conflicts in the Corinthian community may also be healing for us. So we turn an attentive ear to the evangelist.
Paul greets the community acknowledging and therefore reminding them, that they have been “sanctified in Christ Jesus” (ie, “called to be saints”). He stresses what he always does, acknowledging that it is God and Jesus who are the source of their gifts. “God,” “Christ Jesus,” and “Lord Jesus Christ” are named eight times in our introductory three verses. God is agent in our continual sanctification; is the source of Paul’s calling; has assembled and made holy the Corinthian church — an us.
There were those in the Corinthian community who question Paul’s credentials and credibility. That’s why he has to establish his authority at the outset. “Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God….” I imagine when the going got rough and Paul struggled with opposition in the synagogues, the fledgling Christian communities, and when he was arrested, imprisoned and put to death at the hands of the Romans, it would have given him strength and assurance to remember that the source of his apostleship wasn’t from human authorities, but came directly from God.
If we think Paul was a hero to the Corinthian community and that his words were readily received, all we have to do is scan this letter to discover what some thought of him. There was an organized group of detractors against him; he didn’t win over large numbers by his preaching; he was called incompetent, a flatterer and insincere.
Those of us who have planned parish liturgies and other functions and gotten only a small response; met opposition to renewal efforts; rejection because we are new to a parish and “different” from a former pastor or staff member and stiff opposition when preaching issues of justice — know something of what Paul faced frequently and can identify with his struggles. We can also receive strength and renewed dedication when we, like Paul, remember they we are, “called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God.”
Clues from other places in Paul’s writings give us further insight into his interior disposition and struggles. The Corinthian church demonstrated charismatic gifts of the Spirit. Therefore, they might not be terribly impressed by one who came exhibiting weakness. But Paul’s “weakness” mysteriously was an opportunity for God to reveal God’s self through him. Since he was weak, what was the source of this powerful witness to Christ? None other but God.
We learn from Paul’s letters how to meet difficulties we face in ministry. He begins this letter revealing his love for the Corinthians. He offers them a blessing, even for the recalcitrant. In difficult times he needed to remind himself why he was doing what he doing: God had called him and therefore would continue to strengthen him, particularly when he ran up against his own weaknesses Paul wasn’t the only one to receive a call. As we hear him address the Corinthians we overhear his message for us: we too are called to be saints; we too have been sanctified in Christ through his Spirit.
In today’s gospel John the Baptist calls Jesus, “the Lamb of God.” It is one of several titles used for Jesus in the first chapter. Buran Phillips (“Feasting On the Gospels: John, Volume 1,” Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville, 2015, pages 28-29) asks what does it mean when John refers to Jesus, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” How does Jesus’ dying on the cross take away human sin? The New Testament links the death of Jesus with forgiveness of sin, but how? Phillips draws on 24 years of parish experience trying to answer the question.
St. Anselm’s answer was one many of us learned in religion classes. God’s righteousness was offended by human sin and only the death of God’s son could satisfy the demands of God. It’s called the “satisfaction theory.” An offended supreme being could only be satisfied by the death of an equally supreme being.
Phillips gives another theory called “the moral influence theory.” One of its exponents was Peter Abelard who taught that the death of Jesus was the ultimate expression of God’s love for us — a love which transforms us and the world.
John’s Gospel gives another approach that might be called an “incarnational theory” of atonement. At the heart of John’s Gospel is the incarnation: the union of the divine and human in Jesus. Salvation is thus possible because the divine life has entered human life and, as a result, new life exists for us. Belief gives us entry into this new life.
It isn’t that God inflicted pain and death on Jesus on our behalf. The Lamb who is sacrificed is not someone independent from God, but is God giving God’s own self — put to death — to open our blind eyes to God. Jesus died because of our sins. Light has entered the world and taken away our spiritual darkness. Now we can see, and what we come to believe because of Jesus’s death is God’s unfathomable love for us.
A MAN COMING AFTER ME
Last week was the feast of the Baptism of the Lord. Then we listened to Matthew describe the event. Today we hear John the Baptist, through John the Evangelist, tell us his memory of the event and the meaning he gained from it.
John, the cousin of Jesus, certainly knew his cousin while growing up. The two boys, though living in different places, were only months apart in age. But it is inconceivable that they would not have known each other and have spent time playing together.
It should amaze us, then, that John the Baptism tells us that “I did not know him.” The Baptist is not saying he never met Jesus. He is saying that he never realized who Jesus was. John had preached in the desert that “A man is coming after me who ranks ahead of me because he existed before me.” John had no idea that the man he had preached about was Jesus.
John had paid close attention to the word of God and had been a man who reflected upon it intensely as a prophet would. In his reflections John comes to understand God’s revelation about Jesus. John came to realize and believe that Jesus was the Lamb of God, and John’s faith was such that he was compelled to testify to what he knew and believed.
“Look – the Lamb of God!” The Lamb clearly signified the image of sacrifice to that Jewish audience. Lambs were offered in the temple as expiation for sins. At the end of the Gospel, John the evangelist tells us that Jesus was crucified on the day of the preparation for the Passover. This was the day when the lambs were offered in the temple.
While all these offerings were going on in the temple, the real Lamb of God was being slain on Calvary. A real contrast: thousands of lambs slaughtered to no effect in the temple while the one perfect, saving sacrifice occurred beyond the temple precincts. But there is this similarity: Just as the Jews were saved by the Passover animal, so are we saved by the human Lamb of God.
THE LAMB OF GOD
John the Baptizer is walking along with two of his followers. Suddenly they come across this strange man from Nazareth and John speaks some strange gibberish about a “lamb of God.” At once John’s friends drop him like a hot potato and start following Jesus. What was about Jesus that made people drop everything, from fishing nets to tax receipts, and take off after Him? There are no pictures of what he looked like; we have no recording of what his voice sounded like. The New Testament is remarkably reticent until the end of course, when he resembled nothing so much as something hung-up in a butcher shop. What made people follow him? The Gospel reading a little further ahead of today’s Gospel says: “One of these two who became followers of Jesus after hearing what John had said was Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter.” Andrew, in fact, invited Peter to come and see Jesus.
Andrew is not the least- known of the apostles. But our knowledge of him is certainly scant. His name appears in the New Testament only twelve times. And most of those do not tell us anything that he did or said – just that he was one of the twelve. The Gospel readings tell us that he was once a disciple of John the Baptizer. Then one day, John pointed out Jesus and said, “Look. There is the Lamb of God.” Andrew heard this, and from that day forward he was a follower of Christ. As far as we know, he was the first of the twelve apostles. Jesus began his public ministry by calling to himself a very ordinary man! To most of us, that should be a very encouraging insight. I am convinced the Lord does not look upon the conspicuous with anything approximating our wonder and admiration. We tend to be enthusiastic about the extraordinary, but Jesus had a primary place for Andre among his followers. The only thing we know about Andrew is that he was a fisherman, a very plane man.
If we could look into the Lord’s storehouse of valuables, we would probably be surprised at the insignificance of the things we would see. There, for example, we would find two pennies, once belonging to a poor widow ( “she had given more than all the rest.”). We would find a peasant boy’s lunch, five barley cakes and two small fish that he used to feed the multitude. There would also be a broken alabaster box that once belonged to Mary of Bethany. Finally, there would be a cup of water. And underneath would be inscribed these words: “Even a cup of cold water given in my name will not lose its reward.” Jesus always seems to glory in ordinary things and ordinary people. Andrew appears always a close associate of Peter, James and John.
But, later, when an inner circle of disciples was formed, Andrew was not a part of that circle. Jesus raised a little girl back to life. Witnessing this miracle were Peter, James and John. Andrew was left out. On the mountain, at the Transfiguration, Andrew was also left out. In the garden of Olives, again, Jesus took with Him Peter, James and John. Andrew was left out. Why, we do not know. But here is the beautiful part – if Andrew ever suffered one pang of envy there is no indication of it in the gospel records!
Andrew lived a beautiful life. He was not flashy or showy on the outside, but he had strength of the inside. He had the courage to be himself and do his own work in his own way.
Three times in the New Testament we see Andrew in action, and each time he is helping someone. Not preaching to great crowds, just helping individuals. The first time he is bringing his brother Simon and introducing him to Christ; the second, he is befriending a boy and bringing him to Jesus. The third he is reaching against racial boundaries to befriend a group of Greeks who wanted to see Jesus. This was Andrew – always doing the simple but insignificant task with an extraordinary spirit.
The crucial thing to remember is that we have been called to follow Jesus, without exception. Some have heard his call to become sisters and priests and brothers. That doesn’t mean that such a vocation is the only call, with everything else being a compromise or second-rate. We have all been called to “be worthy of our call,” as St. Paul says.
God’s call does not necessarily have to be an overwhelming sign of experience. We simply ask for directions. God speaks to us through the scriptures as well as through other people.