January 24, 2016 – The Third Sunday after the Epiphany
© 2016 Evan D. Garner
Audio of this sermon can be heard here.
With four children under
ten, our family spends more time watching cartoons than nature shows, but,
every once in a while, something spectacular or dramatic on PBS grabs all of
our attention, and we watch with interest as a special on an esoteric corner of
creation unfolds on the screen. For me, my favorite moments feature those
peculiar animals and plants that are unlike anything else but that have found
their special place in the order of things. You know, those flowers with the
exceedingly long stamen that rubs against the back of the one species of bird
that comes to drink its nectar or the perfectly camouflaged insect that you
would swear was a stick until it moves. Those bizarre attributes fascinate
me—how over thousands or even millions of years nature has guided a species to
a truly strange shape or function that helps it survive. And, taken out of
context, I easily forget that a toucan’s bill is no accident—that the
strangeness of creation is beautiful most of all in its purpose.
The same can be said for
the human body. We are amazing machines. There is so much to admire in the way that
our bodies work—how each piece and part fits into the whole so that it all
works together in perfect harmony. But we are so accustomed to our bodies that
we forget just how special they are. Think about how you got here today. Consider
how much we all take for granted: that your hands and eyes and feet all work
together to help you do such ordinary though incredibly complex things as eat a
bowl of cereal, take a shower, and get dressed. We ignore all of that until our
bodies stop working the way that they should. A hangnail reminds us how
delicate each finger really is. A broken toe sends a special signal to our
brain with every painful step. And those who are stricken with neurological
disorders would give anything just to eat that bowl of cereal without having to
concentrate on each bite. Most of us don’t think about it very often, but our
bodies are perfectly designed for amazing things.
And the same is true of
the Body of Christ, which is the church. Paul writes, “Just as the body is one
and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one
body, so it is with Christ.” Paul wants us to see that the church is very much
Christ’s body. Though many and varied, we are all one because we have all been
united together by the Holy Spirit in the same baptism. To the Corinthians,
Paul writes that it doesn’t matter whether you are Jew or Greek, slave or free,
because you are a part of the same body—Christ’s body. And to us he would say
that it doesn’t matter whether you are old or young, rich or poor, Democrat or
Republican, Episcopalian or Southern Baptist; we are all one because together
we are the Body of Christ. And our sometimes bizarre and often difficult
togetherness is no accident. It is how God put us together. But, more often
than not, it takes even more than a PBS special to remind me of that.
Sometimes in a difficult
moment, when someone has disrupted the camaraderie of a group, a person will
say, “Well, it takes all kinds,” implying that the world would not be complete
if anyone were missing. In response, I remember my old boss saying, “I don’t
know if it really takes all kinds, but we sure do have all kinds.” Wouldn’t it
be easier if we were all the same? Wouldn’t it be simpler if we all liked the
same hymns? Wouldn’t it be nice if we all preferred Rite One or Rite Two?
Wouldn’t it be easier if we all agreed about the bible? Wouldn’t we be more
Christ-like if all Christians thought the same thing about creation and
evolution, about sex and marriage, and about the role of women in the church? Actually,
no, we wouldn’t. And that is Paul’s point. We are the Body of Christ not
because we are all the same but because together in our differences we are made
one in Christ.
Hear what St. Paul says:
If the
foot would say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that
would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear would say, “Because
I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less
a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be?
If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it
is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. (1
Cor. 12:15-18)
God has put the Body of
Christ together. We are more than a thrown-together collection of misfits. Our
composition is not an accident. We have been assembled by God himself in a
beautiful and strange body that works together to accomplish his purposes. And
how has God decided to arrange this body? According to God’s perfect, upside-down
logic that is itself a reflection of how salvation works. Those members that seem
to be weaker are actually indispensable, and those that are less respectable
are treated with greater respect. And why has God given greater honor to the
inferior members? So “that there may be no dissention within the body” and that
“all members may have the same care for one another.” If one suffers, all
suffer together. If one rejoices, all rejoice together. Thus, one member cannot
say to another, “I have no need of you.” Together, we are the Body of Christ—all
of us because, in Christ, we are all made one.
But when
was the last time you looked across the whole of Christianity and thought, “It
doesn’t matter how different we are; Christ really has made us one?” We have a
hard enough time sticking together in the Episcopal Church. How will we ever
overcome the prideful forces that continue to rip us apart? By seeing what St.
Paul saw when he looked out across the church. We are the Body of Christ not by
choice but by our nature. Our connectedness is not a matter of the will but the
work of the Spirit that ties us inseparably together. It isn’t up to you. And
it isn’t up to me. It is God’s work. It is God’s plan for us all to be
together. And it’s your job to see that and mine, too, whether we like it or
not. As the Body of Christ, it is our work to be together—not to make our
togetherness a reality but to make the reality of our togetherness a witness to
the world of God’s unifying power. What will you do? What will you do to ensure
that, when the world looks upon us, they will see the unified body of Christ
and not a collection of members barely able to tolerate one another? How will
you live as a part of the one true Body of Christ and show that hope to the
world?
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