Along with a criminal past, Robert carried shame like a backpack full of bricks. But, to his credit, he stayed in the back until the end of service. So, I invited him to join us for coffee hour. And again, he stood away from everyone trying not to be seen. I’m not sure what triggered it, but every Sunday Robert just kept showing up. Slowly moving forward, row by row, week by week. Pretty soon, he was pouring coffee, passing out cookies, and laughing with the same folks he once tried to avoid. And not once did lightning ever strike. Robert is a wonderful example of what Paul means when he talks about the body of Christ — how every part matters, especially the ones who think they don’t. 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. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit. Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. 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. . . . . 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? . . . . As it is, there are many members yet one body. 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.” On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable . . . . But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it. 1 Corinthians 12:12-26 Paul could’ve chosen a thousand metaphors. A team. A temple. A family. But he goes with a body to describe the church. Something that’s “made up of many parts” but is one thing. He imagines this holy body not just as a physical unit, but as an interconnected machine. One that is so perfectly in sync that if the head hurts, the whole thing aches.
Now, the human body has 206 bones, 639 muscles, and around 6 pounds of skin. Of course, there’s also tendons, ligaments, blood vessels, nerves, organs, and tissue. In fact, your foot alone has 26 bones, 33 joints and more than 100 other parts all working together with precision and grace. Every step we take, is a mechanical feat (no pun intended). This is how the church is supposed to work. Together, in unity, with no one part being better than the other. The toenail is just as important as the brain. Yet, somewhere along the way we created a hierarchy, elevating some over others. This seems to contradict exactly what this letter is all about. Paul asks, “If we were all the eye, how would we hear? Or if we were all ears, how would we smell anything?” The way I see it, God has given us each a unique roll and purpose in this sacred body. If the foot feels cut off, it doesn’t matter what the hand says. Like the human body, this holy body works best when the different parts bring their different gifts, their quirks and callings, their scars and stories; trusting that even the ones who stand in the back believe they belong. This is what made the early Christian church stand out above the other religions. Jews and Greeks, free and slave, male and female, many people making one body where the greatest honor is given to least likely member. In a world that honors the greatest (often at the expense of the least) this was a radical and completely subversive approach. But such is the way of Jesus. You might feel like a foot in a hand-shaped world because you have doubts, or an unflattering past. But Jesus shows us this doesn’t stop God from loving you. So why then does it stop us? When Jesus says, “love one another, just as God has love you,” he’s not just teaching spiritual humility. He is calling us to practice radical hospitality. Paul understands this to mean the lowliest are the ones who get priority. Jesus, the very incarnation of God’s love in the flesh, shows us what this way of life looks like every time he goes to the margins and brings those the world has tossed aside, back into the community. Back into the center of God’s heart. This is what divine healing and redemption looks like. Jesus even pushes this notion further, telling his disciple, and us, that whatever we do to the least of these, we do also to him. To welcome the ex-con standing nervously out of place, we’re welcoming Jesus who offers the best seats at the table to tax collectors and street workers. Whenever we treat a trans teen with honor, or see the undocumented as a neighbor, we see Jesus in the flesh. And understand what his sacred body is all about. Remember, Paul is writing to a young church, located in a multicultural, highly competitive city where status is currency. So, the Body of Christ must be a safe and welcoming space for all - especially for those the world wants to hurt. This is true today as well. Because when something as petty as politics stops us from loving our enemy, we’re no longer the Body of Christ. But a social club with decent coffee. Our goal is to take all our unique parts and build a better body together. A community of love in the space between those on the inside and those on the outside. This is where real love is worked out in real time. And this body, like the human body, has a face. One that looks like you and me. One that smiles with ease—because we now know it takes twice as many muscles and effort to frown. Likewise, the body has to work harder to hold onto anger and a grudge than letting go of it. This body also has a heart. One that faithfully beats over 100,000 times a day. Each time we show up; send a text checking on someone; stay up late caring for a broken soul; offer an invitation to church; or share this message with a hurting friend, the heartbeat of this community pulses in perfect rhythm with God’s love. Again, we each play a unique and vital role in Anamesa. We need eyes to help us see, but without ears, we miss the gentle voice asking, “How can I pray for you?” We need hands that wave and serve. And feet to move our mission forward. Working together, in unison, we love God, love others, and serve both. Paul picked the perfect metaphor for the church because in God’s kingdom everything is interconnected - you and me, heaven and earth, Christ and Jesus and this community of love we call Anamesa. Every part belongs because every part is important to the greater mission at hand (again, no pun intended). When one of us rejoices, we all rejoice. When one hurts, we hold that pain together. As amazing as the human body is, we must not forget it’s also very vulnerable. The pandemic reminded us how quickly something from the outside can disrupt everything within. I know someone who’s dealing with an autoimmune disease. Her own body has begun to mistake healthy parts as threats—and is turning against itself. The same is happening in the Body of Christ. We are attacking ourselves by allowing fear, judgment, and division in. Some believe their theology, rituals and rites are better in the church across the street. When we label people, communities, or identities as “not holy enough” or “not one of us,” we’re attacking the Body of Christ. Jesus says, “Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand” (Matthew 12:25). When the disciples wanted to stop someone from casting out demons because he wasn’t one of them, Jesus tells the Twelve to back off, “whoever isn’t against us is with us” (Mark 9:38). Just as a misaligned spine can cause pain throughout the entire body when we’re not aligned with the heart of Christ—when his love is no longer the center of everything we do, then it all gets thrown out of whack. Jesus says, “I am the vine, you are the branches. Dwell in me… apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). Like he showed us with his own life, the body only moves well when it’s rooted in the source of love. And not just any love, but God’s divine, steadfast love. Where grace, mercy and forgiveness are the antidote to the pain we inflict on this sacred body. Jesus embodies God’s love perfectly. He uses it to welcome, heal, and redeem the world. Not some of it, but all of it. The good, the bad, the faithful and faithless alike. When the body of Christ is aligned in God’s love, and honors every part like Jesus did, then something beautiful is created: a holy community where the least are at the center. A space where folks like Robert are elevated and blessed. And love is the skin that not only holds us all tightly together, but it helps others identify who we are: God’s beloved. Jesus didn’t ask us to build a community that looks like the world. He sends us into the world to build a body that looks and acts and loves like him. We are his sacred body. His living, breathing, resurrected love. Where every scar is honored, every soul is held, and the least among us are seen not as strangers, but as Christ himself, whose love and presence here is so radiant, heaven can’t help but break through. May we all be like him - rejoicing and radiating together as one, Now and forever, amen. Let us pray:
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Ian MacdonaldAn ex-copywriter turned punk rock pastor and peacemaker who dedicates his life to making the world a better place for all humanity. "that they all might be one" ~John 17:21“Prius vita quam doctrina.”
~ St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) * “Life is more important than doctrine.”
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