“A Body in Mission”
I Corinthians 12:12-31
Rev. Dr. Deborah L. Clark
October 26, 2014
“For 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.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’ve heard it before. Many times. The church is like a body, which has many parts, which all work together as one. Everyone’s different, and so we each have different roles.
Occasionally, this passage has been used to keep people stuck in certain roles. You, someone says, are like a foot of the body, carrying the weight, getting walked upon. Someone else is the head, making the decisions. Be satisfied with your role. Occasionally, the passage is used to put people into categories, based on their most obvious characteristics, short-circuiting their potential to do so much more.
Most of the time, though, this passage is used in a positive way. It reminds us that everyone has a role, and everyone’s role is crucial. We don’t have to try to all be alike. In fact, it’s a lucky thing we are not, for, like a body, the church needs all its parts.
It’s a good metaphor and a good message. It’s just that we’ve heard it so many times. It’s gotten a little tired—or maybe we’ve just gotten a little tired of it.
This morning, I invite you to join me in hearing this passage anew.
Over the last few months, in worship and in yoga classes and in casual conversation, you have heard me talk about my new-found appreciation for the human body. It began when I read my Yoga Anatomy textbook and started circling and underlining and turning down the corners of the pages. It continued as I attended my two week yoga teacher training class. It has grown as I’ve been teaching the Tuesday morning Gentle Yoga class, just this week marveling at the forest of gorgeous tree poses created by nine very different human bodies.
In this three-week sermon series, which I’ve called “embodiment,” I’ve used a lot of bold metaphors to describe the human body: awesome, awe-inspiring, wondrous, resilient, delicate, intricate. I have been wearing out the Thesaurus tool in my computer trying to find more synonyms for “amazing.”
I wonder. Did Paul grasp the full implication of comparing the church to a human body? Did the human body awaken in him a sense of wonder and awe? If so, did he mean for us to feel a similar sense of wonder and awe at the church as a body? Knowing how deeply he loved the churches to whom he wrote, I’m going to assume that he did, and carry his metaphor a little bit further.
Two weeks ago, I talked in my sermon about the four curves of the human spine. There is no such thing as a straight spine except perhaps if you are a fish,. If human spines were straight, they would crack at the least bit of pressure. Instead, our spines allow us to stand tall because of just exactly the right combination of four curves. If one were missing, we would topple over, or be back to walking on four limbs.
And so it is with the church. If the church were to move forward in a perfectly straight line, we would snap apart from irrelevance. Our purpose is found in the twists and turns and curves of our path. We curve a little one way to meet a new friend on the journey, then we curve in a new direction as we respond to a natural disaster. We arch our collective spine as we work out a kink that has us immobilized. We turn heavenward as we search for answers, and we curve back toward the earth as we ground ourselves in daily life. It’s never a straight line. We move forward and we stand tall because of the particular ways we put together the curves of our communal life.
We talked a lot about the spine two weeks ago, but we barely touched on the ways muscles work together. At the most basic level, they work in pairs—an intricate negotiation of opposing forces. When one muscle contracts, another lengthens. Our nervous system gives the pair information so they can balance their opposing forces to enable a limb to move in just the right way.
If the church is like a body, then the ways we work together involve an equally complex negotiating of opposing forces. The muscles in each pair cannot both be doing the same thing; neither can they be off on their own pursuing their own agendas. The paired muscles of tradition and innovation work together—one lengthening and another contracting for a particular circumstance, and then finding a different balance for the next situation. Ritual and spontaneity seek their own balance; clarity of purpose and openness to new vision form yet another pair. Listening to the spirit in silence lengthens and contracts in relation to a joyous, boisterous expression of spirit. Cautious stewardship pairs with bold risk-taking; rootedness in Christianity seeks its balance with celebrating the truths of other religions. Patience and urgency; action and receptivity; grace and judgment; rejoicing in who we are now and seeking to grow and change….
There are so many muscle pairs in this church body that must find balance with each new day.
In the human body, muscle pairs rarely move in isolation. Most actions involve numerous pairs, each of which has to adjust in relation to the other pairs. And so it is with the church as a body. With every song we sing, with every program we plan, with every decision we make, numerous pairs of opposing forces interact and rebalance to enable us to move forward as a community.
Perhaps most importantly, the human body has the capacity to compensate when things don’t go perfectly. When a muscle pair doesn’t find just the needed combination of lengthening and contracting and we start to trip, another set of muscles kicks into motion to try to keep us upright. And if we do fall, our body immediately begins the healing process.
There are many time in the life of every church when we curve too far afield and are in danger of toppling over. There are many times we don’t reach just the right balance of a pair of opposing forces. By the grace of God, we find ways to adjust, to rebalance, to curve back to where we can stand again, to seek forgiveness when we’ve hurt someone in the process, to heal old wounds so we can risk walking again.
My sabbatical explorations of human anatomy made me realize how much I take my body for granted. This exploration of Paul’s metaphor of the church as a body reminds me of how readily we take the church for granted. Look at us here today. All of us could be doing something else—sleeping, reading the paper, going out for brunch. Instead, something draws us together. A dozen volunteers practice for hours to offer a piece of music for one Sunday morning anthem. People drive out of their way to pick someone up for church. Folks come even though it really hurts to get in and out of the car. Sunday School teachers give up their chance to worship to teach our children. We support all this almost entirely from voluntary giving, without any distinction between those who give from a limited income and those who can give a large quantity.
And then, somehow, as a community, we figure out how our path needs to curve in order for us to walk with strength. We manage dozens of delicate balancing pairs of opposing forces. When things don’t go just right, we readjust and keep going.
It is pretty amazing. Here we are, gathered as this complex, intricate body.
What’s even more amazing is why we gather. For Paul, the body is more than a metaphor to describe how we work together. We are not just any body, but the body of Christ. Two thousand years ago, Jesus came and dwelt among us, a human being, a human body conveying the presence of God in our midst, proclaiming the love of God. Now, Paul writes, Christ dwells here on earth through our community. When we gather, we are an embodiment of God’s presence in our world. When we reach out in our mission and ministry, we are embodying God’s love for our world.
God needs us. God works through us. God trusts us to do God’s work, to bring God’s realm to fruition, to embody God’s love. We are the body of Christ.
All those adjectives I used in the last two weeks to describe the human body apply as well to the church, for we are a body, the body of Christ. This body, by the grace of God, through the creative loving energy of God, is awesome, awe-inspiring, wondrous, resilient, delicate, intricate, amazing. Let us honor this body as a wondrous gift from God. Let us give thanks to God for this body—thanks that we each get to be part of something so amazing, thanks that God trusts us to do God’s work. Amen.