A Tale of Two Churches: Gathering - 1 Corinthians 12:12-14

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Good morning. Chairete!  

My name is Chloe, and I'm so glad to be with you this morning, bringing greetings from my brothers and sisters in Corinth.  

I have to say I was surprised to hear your scripture reading this morning. It's a bit awkward, knowing that people are reading our mail.  

It's also a bit embarrassing for me to look back on who we were as a church when Paul wrote that letter—the things we were struggling with, and how far we've come, and who we are becoming.  

The man who wrote that letter to us, Paul of Tarsus—I understand that for you he's a bit of a legend, almost a mythical kind of a person. But when I got that letter and I held it in my hands, I could point to the chair in my house that Paul actually sat on, and I remember the way it creaked when he sat on it. This is the man who brought us the good news about Jesus Christ. This is the man who baptized us in the sea, the salt water in our eyes. The man who taught us so much of what it means to be the church.  

______

I'm a wine merchant, a businesswoman. Part of what I love about living in Corinth is that I'm a Roman Empire woman, but in Corinth I get to run my own business the way I want to run it. I was so happy the day I met Priscilla. She was a merchant and a trades-person as well, and she and her husband Aquila set up next to me in the agora—the big open marketplace in the middle of town, where absolutely everything happens, and everybody comes through. 

They were tent makers who had come from Rome. They were Jewish, and one of the emperors (I forget which one) had kicked all the Jews out of Rome. 

They were good people, Priscilla and Aquila, and not just good honest business-people. They were always actively seeking ways to help people. Maybe being a refugee gives you a different perspective. Or maybe (and I think this had more to do with it) it was because they were Christians. They were ‘People of the Way.’ 

So we got talking and comparing notes, and we became friends. One day Priscilla turned up in the agora with a new employee. He didn't make much of a first impression, to be honest with you. He was a bit on the short side. A bit bow-legged, but strong. He had a bit of a squint and, like, a unibrow. He had a long nose** and, yeah, he didn't look impressive. But when Priscilla introduced us, when she said, “Chloe, this is Paul,” he smiled such a smile of welcome. That's the kind of person he was. He saw people, and he cared.  

When he got talking—sitting in the agora, even with all the noise going on around you—he was full of stories. Full of ideas as well, but mostly stories, and mostly stories about this man, Jesus: another Jewish person, but so much more. 

Paul told us stories about the things Jesus said, things He did. Stories about how He died, and then how He came back to life again, and what that meant. 

That was a weird story, but the way Paul told it, and something stirring in my heart, just told me it was true. How can this be true? It just is.  

The story about Jesus, the things Paul said made so much sense for me of the way the world is. It explained so much better the reality of life on earth than what I had been taught my whole life about humanity and the gods. So much so that before I knew it, even, I was one of them. I was a Christian.  

As I say, it’s a bit awkward knowing that people are looking over our shoulders, reading our mail 2000 years later, because we had so much to learn in those days. The way the ‘People of the Way’ lived, the things Paul was asking us to take on board, the ways he was asking us to change our lives—it was unlike anything we’d seen. ‘People of the Way’ shared with each other, and cared for their enemies, even the Romans. They forgave and forgave and forgave and forgave each other. They treated everyone as equals. Equality among people: men and women, Jews and Greeks, slave and free. We'd never heard anything like that before.  

We had meals, sitting in people's homes, with slaves and slave owners eating at the same table at the same time. We had men and women leading and serving each other. We had children who were valued, not just as assets or investments, but as people. 

We had so much to learn, and we made a lot of mistakes. But Paul... He didn't give up on us. 

It's kind of a longish story.  

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Paul had been preaching up the road in Athens before he came to us. 

When he arrived, he connected through the synagogue with Priscilla and Aquila. He had some of the same skills, so he got a job with them. He stayed in our town for about a year and a half, working, arguing, making friends, making enemies. He did a lot of writing—while he was with us, he was writing letters to the church in Thessalonica. 

Once the church was on its feet, once we were supposedly able to look after ourselves, Paul moved on to Ephesus across the sea.  

Priscilla and Aquila went with him. I missed them. I don't really know what happened to them in the end. I hope they made their way back to Rome. I won't know, I guess, until I meet them again.  

Paul stayed in Ephesus for about 3 years, doing pretty much the same kind of thing: working, arguing, making friends, making enemies. Writing.  

From Ephesus, he wrote letters to us. The 1st letter we got from him isn’t in the Bible. Just a basic letter of reminders of basic things. Things like, when living in Corinth it's really easy to get sucked into the culture, and it's important for us to remember that to Christ our spirits matter, and our bodies matter; our spirits and our bodies are intertwined, and that in Corinth—this incredibly sexualized, greedy culture—that was not what God had for us. That was not what we were to be chasing after. God had something so much better.  

Well, some of the people in the church didn't like that letter. They wanted to do what they wanted to do. Plus, while we were processing that letter, a teacher named Apollos arrived in town. He wanted us to find the Jewish God and the Messiah Jesus. Apollos was a really good teacher and some people decided they liked him better than they liked Paul. Because Apollos wasn't telling them off the way Paul did.  

So some people liked Apollos better than they liked Paul. Others weren't having that because Paul had been following Christ longer, and he had more experience. We ended up with these personality cults splitting our church.  

Plus, there were some things going on in our gatherings, when we dame together to worship: to sing and to pray. It just wasn’t working right. Sometimes when we were singing and praying it would get kind of chaotic and confusing and you didn't know who to listen to and you didn't know what was going on. 

Plus, sometimes when we came to the table to share a meal, some people would come early because they didn't have as much to do, and they would just eat and drink until they were full. Then others would come later because they had been at work, and there would be nothing left for them at the table where we were supposed to be remembering Jesus together.  

Plus, there was this whole thing about, “Well, I like Apollos better. No, we should be listening to Paul. But what about Peter down in Jerusalem? We should be listening to him.”  

I run a business, and I had people going back and forth between Corinth and Ephesus all the time, so we sent him a message with some of my folks. 

He read our questions and his reply was what you call 1 Corinthians. It was not a warm and fuzzy, friendly answer. There’s some stuff in there that still makes me squirm.  

Paul put his foot down. 

To summarize, he said more or less: I, and Apollos, and Peter—we will not thank you for using us as wedges to divide the church, because it's not about us. Don't lift us up like that. Only Christ deserves that loyalty. Do not use me, Paul said, as an excuse for your malfeasance.  

Coming to the table? Check your heart. Why are you there? It's not about privilege or about who gets there first. It's not snacks. It's a remembrance of Christ himself. Make room for each other. Put each other first, just as He put us first.  

When you're singing and praying together, bring some order to it. It's not about who gets to stand up and be seen. It's not about who puts on the best show; it's about giving everyone the chance to hear the good news of Christ. It’s about giving people the chance to contribute to the ministry of Christ. When you sing and pray together, do it in unity. Not as a tug-of-war. 

So we read this letter and I thought, oh, good! Paul's givin’ it to ‘em! That's great! Things are going to get better now.  

Things didn't get better now. Nothing changed. The people who didn't want to listen to Paul were still not going to listen to Paul.  

After a while we wrote again, asking him for help again because things were not going well.  

This time Paul didn’t write. This time he showed up. I mean, it's only about a day's journey by boat across the sea, but that must have been a long day for him. He called that visit the “painful visit.” He spent the whole time saying things it hurt him to have to say in meetings with people who didn’t want to be in meetings with him. And I guess it was necessary, because he loved us like a dad and sometimes families are... families.  

That visit did not go well. It did not end well. Paul refers to it later in another letter. He says, ‘I don't want to have to come and visit you again, and experience “quarreling and jealousy and rage and rivalry and slander and gossip and arrogance and disorder.” And grief. He said that the thought of having to do that again scared him. 

So Paul realized that this visit was not working, so he went back to Ephesus. This gave us time to think, gave him time to think, and a little while later we got another letter. He called this one the “sorrowful letter.” And I'm really, really glad you don't have that one to read.  

He refers to it in his final letter, as he talks about putting in writing the same hard things that he’d already had to say. It hurt him to have to do that. And it hurt us to get that ‘sorrowful letter.’  

Maybe it was because we'd had time to process and to have conversations ourselves and to look back on the ‘painful visit’ and say, “Oh my goodness, is that who we are?”  

Or maybe it was the Holy Spirit working in our hearts, and working between us to give us some restoration. But that letter made a difference.  

That sorrowful letter—it broke Paul's heart. It broke our hearts. It healed us.  

The next time Paul got a report on what was going on in Corinth, it was from our brother Titus. By then we were going in a better direction. We’d had conversations we needed to have. We’d done things we needed to do.  

Paul wrote in what you call 2 Corinthians (in effect), ‘you know, I hated writing that ‘sorrowful letter,’ but in good conscience, I had to because I have a job to do. I have responsibilities to the churches and I wouldn't be doing you any favours by ignoring what needs to be addressed. I know I did the right thing, especially since Titus has brought me such good news. I caused you sorrow and that sorrow lead you to repentance, to a changing of the mind, a changing of an attitude, a changing of your conduct and in your relationships. Now you're going in a better direction. You're living a better life. I hear good things about you and I am encouraged. You should see the smile on Titus's face when he talks about you.’ 

Later that year, Paul came for another visit. That one went better. 

He spent the winter with us in Corinth, visiting the believers, hanging out in the agora. And then he was off again to somewhere. I’m not sure where.  

I heard that he died in Rome. I heard that he died well. 

**description drawn from The Acts of Paul and Thecla  

 

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