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Without any premeditation and with minimal effort on our parts, we human beings are born, brought into existence in the world. And in this life we face two basic questions: What am I to think or believe about the world? And how shall I behave, or act? Everything else in our lives reflects our responses, either conscious or unconscious, to these two questions. They are tough questions: What am I to think about the world? And how shall I act in the world? Fortunately, we have help in understanding them; we have the Scriptures. And in the Scriptures we find that Epiphany, a kind of extension of Christmas, is the story of how God reveals himself to his people in the world, the story of how God responds to these questions when God himself is in the world. We find that early on in our history, when God considered his fallen creation, one of the first things he did was to send us Moses, who brought us God's Law. And then Moses promised that God would raise up for his people yet another prophet like himself, one who would speak God's authoritative word about the world, and about life. And in the Gospel reading this morning, one who is sent later makes a deep impression upon us in the synagogue at Capernaum. He does speak with authority. He doesn't speak in footnotes, forever citing God's Law and what everyone else has to say about it. Instead, this one even acts with authority, casting out an unclean spirit and restoring a man to health and wholeness. And here we are at church this morning, gathered together with our unclean spirits, just as the folks at Capernaum were gathered together with theirs. Perhaps some of us, like some of them, have brought the demon of the burden of sin we've been living with. Others have brought the despair of their loneliness, or the fear of not having enough to pay the rent this month, or the anxiety of the uncertainties of advancing age, or their dismay created by a life of always being on the make, of constantly trying to climb some ladder of business or society or academia, or their anger with some addiction that they haven't been able to shake from their lives. Whatever demon it is we've brought with us, we gather with those at Capernaum to hear Jesus. And we hear him speak with authority, and we see him act with authority. So we stay and listen a while longer, hoping to find some help with one of the most important questions any of us will ever face: What about food sacrificed to idols? Are we free to eat it, or not? And we wonder what in the world Jesus of Nazareth has to do with us as we consider a question like that. It is one of the most significant questions ever faced by human beings: Are we free to eat meat sacrificed to idols? And our response to it depends upon our answers to the first two questions: What are we to think or believe about the world? And how are we to act? For these two questions are the questions St. Paul was really putting to the Christians in Corinth. In ancient cities, much of the meat that was available for purchase and consumption was meat that had previously been offered as a sacrifice to a god. Part of the meat had been burned, literally offered up to the god. Part of it became a feast for the worshipers who had brought it. And part of it was left for the priests as a source of income for them. And when meat was sold at the shops - and much of it was sold in the temple courtyards - the chances were good that some of it was meat that had been previously offered at an altar, meat that had not been burned up in the sacrifice or consumed by the worshippers or priests. Some followers of Jesus believed that they were not free to eat such meat, because, they reasoned, that would involve them, perhaps unknowingly, in the worship of a lord other than Christ, since the meat had first been offered up at a pagan altar. But other followers of Christ in Corinth knew better. They knew that there was really only one God, the Lord, and that an idol has no real existence. An idol, after all, is only a bit of carved wood or stone, nothing more. What pagans called gods are powerless superstitions, no gods at all. Therefore, all this meat that people had sacrificed to idols had really been sacrificed to nothing. It had not been offered to any real god, because such gods do not exist. "All of us have this knowledge," they wrote to Paul. "We know that idols are merely superstition, so doesn't this knowledge make us free to eat meat that has been sacrificed to idols?" And Paul's response is one of the most interesting and important responses to a question in the entire Bible. "What you say is true," Paul said. "We all have knowledge. We are free to eat meat sacrificed to idols, because we know that idols really have no existence." "But knowledge puffs up," Paul goes on to say. "Knowledge can give a sense of self-importance. It can lead one to think that since he knows he is free to do something, then - By golly! - he ought to do it if he wants to, and not worry about anything else or anyone else." That, of course, is one way to respond to this morning's questions. If you think that what you know about the world is the only thing to consider, then you can act in the world according to what you know as if it doesn't matter how your knowledge and action affects other people. But let's think about it for a moment, says Paul. "A person may know something, but not yet know in the way he ought to know. You see," said Paul, "some of your brothers and sisters in Christ, other people here in church with us today, even though they acknowledge Jesus as Lord, have been used to seeing pagan altars for so long that if they were to eat this meat, they would eat is still believing that it really had been sacrificed to a real god, and in doing so they would be doing something they believe is wrong. Their consciences, being weak, would be violated." "So what about them?" Paul asks. What does your knowledge have to do with them?" And Paul's question here is related to the question we heard in the synagogue at Capernaum earlier this morning: What do you have to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Paul goes on: "Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up." So the question is: What do you want? Do you want to build, or to puff? Which is more important? What is better? What is more basic to the way we think and believe about the world, you and I here this morning who would follow Jesus as Lord? Think about it this way, Paul goes on to say: "You and I know that food does not bring us into touch with God. We know that we neither gain nor lose by eating any food, whether it has been sacrificed on an altar or not. But some of our brothers and sisters in Christ don't know that. So don't we need to be careful not to use our knowledge and our freedom in a way that becomes a stumbling block or a pitfall to our brothers and sisters who are weaker than we are because they don't know what we know?" "Christ died for our weaker brothers and sisters as well as for us," Paul adds. "And if we use our knowledge and freedom without concern for their weakness, then we not only sin against them. We also sin against Christ, who died for them." And that is why Paul decided that even though his knowledge in Christ made him free to eat meat that had been sacrificed to idols, he was also free not to eat it for the sake of his brothers and sisters who didn't have such knowledge. Since food can be an occasion for my brother's downfall, he said, "I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause him to fall." Do you now see why the question about eating meat sacrificed to idols is so important to you and me? It's because Paul is talking not only about this particular cultural question that was of concern to the church in Corinth, but also about the more basic questions of life itself that lie behind it: What do we know or believe about the world, those of us who would follow Jesus as Lord? And, given our knowledge, how are we to act? What do you have to do with us anyway, Jesus of Nazareth? What is the relationship between what we know in you, Lord, and how we are to act? For Paul, and for Jesus, knowledge, what we know about the world, is one thing; how we are to act is another. Knowledge is good. But knowledge, as good and helpful as it is, is not an end in itself. Education, as good and helpful as it is, is not an end in itself. Freedom, as precious as it is, is not an end in itself. Behind them all lie the questions: Knowledge for what, for what purpose, to what end? Education for what, for what purpose, to what end? Freedom for what, for what purpose, to what end? We know a lot, for example, about the energy of the sun. We know that the energy of the sun can be captured here on earth, and concentrated and released. And we know that God has left us free to do it. But we also know that that's not the end of the matter. The end of the matter is: To what end, for what purpose, shall we do so? To light and heat our homes, and to run our factories? Or to threaten the earth with nuclear destruction? We know that democracy is a good thing. But we also know, from the elections in Germany in 1930 and 1932, and from any number of elections throughout history, both ancient and modern, possibly from this week's elections in Gaza, that it's possible to use the process of democracy to elect tyrants and establish tyrannies. Therefore, we also know that democracy for democracy's sake is not the end of the matter. The end of the matter is: Democracy for what purpose, to what end? We know that, unlike the beasts, we possess the power of language. And we know that God has left us free to speak and print what we wish. But that's not the end of the matter. The end of the matter is: How shall we speak? To what end, for what purpose, shall we speak? To hear ourselves talk? Or to offend? Or to gossip? Or to impress? Or to curse or frighten or intimidate? To tear down the community? Or to lift the spirits of another, to comfort the lonely, to heal and bless the weak, and to build up the community of the people of God? It all depends, doesn't it. Our responses to these questions depend on what we think or believe about this mysterious experience we call life, and on what Jesus of Nazareth has to do with us. Similarly, for Jesus himself, it all depended upon what he thought or believed about life in the wilderness when Satan came his way. Now Satan was the biggest huffer and puffer of knowledge in the whole Bible, and he blew some of his smoke Jesus' way out there in the wilderness. "Now Jesus," Satan said, "You're the Son of God! You know everything. Just use what you know the way I suggest. Give the folks some bread and circuses, and you and I will do big things together." Jesus knew that knowledge is good. Jesus knew that his freedom was good. He knew that knowledge and freedom are power. But Jesus also knew, as Paul later knew, that knowledge and freedom and power have been given to us for a purpose, for an end bigger than themselves. And this is why Paul, in his great letter to the Christians in Corinth, will go on to remind us that we can make all A's in theology and outreach and liturgy, and even make A's in personal witnessing and church affairs, and still flunk life. Because even if we have all those things in abundance, but do not love each other and do not respond to each other out of concern for each other, and especially for the weak among us, then we are nothing, nothing more than sounding gongs and clanging cymbals, just so much noisy hot air. We can, as William Temple later reminds us, be real whiz-bangs at being right, and still be right repugnantly. That's what Paul also believed about the world, and what he believed Jesus of Nazareth believed about the world, and therefore that's what Paul believed Jesus of Nazareth has to do with us. Paul thought the folks at Corinth were perhaps a little long on theology and a little short on love, a little long on church business and a little short on compassion. They were all puffed up with the right answers about God and Jesus and all that, but kind of deflated when it came to actually walking the way of the Cross with Jesus. They were big on answers, and kind of short on loving personal response to their brothers and sisters. Could this be a word from God to us at Our Saviour Parish? Could this be a word from God to us in the Episcopal Church as we prepare for our General Convention this summer? As we prepare for our meetings with our brothers and sisters in Christ this summer, how will we respond to the questions of this morning's Epistle reading: What about our knowledge and our freedom? Are we free to act on our knowledge, or not? Are we free not to act on it? What do we believe about the world, and about Christ's Church? What do we believe about how are we to act? Could Paul's first letter to the Corinthians be a word from God to the Anglican Communion as a whole, and to the entire Church catholic, as they prepare to respond to whatever actions we take at General Convention? Being big on right answers and short on loving personal response to our brothers and sisters in Christ is a common pitfall for those, like us, who seek the truth, because those of us who seek the truth are, after all, interested in being right. But is being right what it's finally all about, this mysterious experience we call life? It all depends, doesn't it, upon what we think and believe about it. Is being right what it is that Jesus of Nazareth ultimately has to do with us? Is it all about being right, this mysterious experience we call life? Or is it all about being in love? What we think or believe about life and the world will determine the way we respond to it, just as it did for Jesus. And that's what Jesus of Nazareth has to do with us. Because Paul reminds us that, for Jesus, while truth is important, truth is, in fact, to be perfected on the Cross. Being right is something that needs to be perfected, and on the Cross Jesus perfected being right by dying for those who were wrong - for the weak, the lost, the last, and the least. The Cross is where Jesus' knowledge led him, because that's where his love led him. He who was in the very nature of God himself, and who knew it all, made himself nothing for the sake of those who knew nothing, because, for him, love is the purpose and end of knowledge. What about us? In the Name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. |