1
Corinthians 12:12-31a
You
have probably all heard of the “Trolley Dilemma,” which is a thought experiment
first proposed by a philosopher named Philippa Foot back in the sixties. The
dilemma is this: You are standing on a city street and you see a trolley
hurtling out of control down the tram tracks. And you also see five workers on
those tracks, who will soon be run over. But you have sharp vision and quick
reflexes, and you notice a lever by the tracks and you realize that you can
divert the trolley onto another track, where there is only one person working.
So, do you let the trolley run over the five workers, or do you divert it,
killing the one worker on the other track? Then a variation was added. It’s the
same scenario — a trolley racing out of control — but this time you are on a
footbridge above the tracks. You see that five workers are about to be run
over, but you also see a very large man standing next to you on the bridge. If
he were to fall onto the tracks, he would be killed, but his body would
certainly stop the trolley and save the five workers. Do you push him off the
bridge or not?
A
number of studies have been done with this dilemma. Most people, it turns out,
would pull the lever and divert the train, but most people would not push the
man off the bridge. This raises all sorts of interesting questions, but let me
propose a similar but different thought experiment. I heard it years ago and it
has haunted me since. Say you are given divine power to establish the Kingdom
of God. Billions of people would live in justice and peace, devoted to works of
goodness and beauty. The only catch is that one person would have to be
excluded. Everyone would enjoy bliss forever except for that one person, who
would spend eternity alone, weeping in the outer darkness. Would you do it?
Would God do it?
Can
we ever think of any person as expendable? Can we ever say to another human
being, “I have no need of you.” Well, Paul insists that members of the Body of
Christ cannot say that. He drives the point home to those fractious and divided
Corinthians: The eye cannot say to the
hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need
of you.” This is an inconvenient teaching, of course, because we can all
think of people we would rather not deal with, in church or anywhere else. I
have been blessed over the course of my ministry to find 99% of my parishioners
easy to love, but there has always been that one percent. I think of one man in
a previous parish, named Bill, who gave me heartburn on a regular basis. We
disagreed on, um, everything. For him, church was primarily about the building
and changing nothing. He hated many of my sermons and told me so. He had a
caustic tongue, and often lashed out at other parishioners. He kept grudges and
carried on feuds for years. And there were many moments, I confess, when I
wished he wasn’t there. But as luck and karma would have it, he had lots of
health problems, and was in the hospital frequently. Which meant he and I could
enjoy lots of quality time with each other. One day, when he was brought into
the ER with a heart attack, I went to see him, praying as I walked in, “God
help me!” He looked awful, and told me what was going on. So I anointed him and
prayed for him, and then he looked at me from his bed and said, “Thank you.”
And I had an epiphany. The Spirit opened my eyes and my heart and I knew that
Bill and I were in this together. I would not be saved apart from that man.
Now,
of course, we all need each other for practical reasons. We learn from each
other and we depend on each other in the sharing of talents and resources: I
need Steve to be treasurer, I need Daniel to play the organ, I need Chris to be
an acolyte, I need all our lay leaders to do the great work they do because I
can’t: I don’t have the gifts or the ability to do what they do. And that’s
true for all of us. But I need to be very clear: the message today goes way
beyond practical assistance. Paul acknowledges all the different gifts and
roles we have, but at the very end of the passage we heard today, he says, But strive for the greater gifts. And
the greatest gift of all, as he will tell us in the very next chapter of First
Corinthians, is the gift of love. Ultimately we are bound to each other not for
utilitarian reasons, but purely for the sake of love. God loves because God is
love. Love needs no practical justification: love is its own purpose, its own
end, and its own reward.
That
shines out in the Gospel, when Jesus reads from the prophet Isaiah words of
all-encompassing love: The Spirit of the
Lord is upon me to bring good news to the poor . . . release to the captives .
. . recovery of sight to the blind . . . freedom to the oppressed. Everyone
matters. No one is expendable. We cannot say to people of different races and
different religions, “I have no need of you.” We cannot say to immigrants
desperately searching for a better life, “I have no need of you.” We cannot say
to the young man in prison, “I have no need of you.” We cannot say to the old
woman in the nursing home, “I have no need of you.” This goes beyond issues of
mere justice: including and caring for everyone is not just the right thing to
do. In the Kingdom of God, it is the only thing to do. That is what love does
and, as Jesus makes clear over and over and over again, love is what it is all
about.
And
if you’re thinking right now, “That’s way too hard,” well, I hear you.
Following Christ will challenge us to the very core of our being, but he told
us as much. After all, the central image of our faith is a man whose body and heart
are broken on the cross — and who lives in joy and reigns in love, even still.
Living in the Spirit of Christ will stretch our minds, expand our souls, and at
times, break our hearts. But it is the only way to experience eternal life,
because there is no life apart from God, and God is love.
So
look around you today and throughout the week. Liberals, you will not be saved
apart from conservatives. Conservatives, you will not be saved apart from
liberals. White people will not be saved apart from black people. Rich people
will not be saved apart from poor people. Americans will not be saved apart
from non-Americans. The Spirit of Christ will gradually, painfully teach us
what it really means to love, but it begins with this basic truth: we are all
in this together — or we are not in it at all.
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