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Webs of Mutual Humanity

  • David Potter
  • Jan 14, 2024
  • 5 min read

Updated: Apr 22, 2024


Sermon for The Second Sunday After the Epiphany

Saint Peter's | Arlington, VA

1 Corinthians 6:12-20





“Panta moi exestin...”


In his letter to the Christian community in Corinth, the Apostle Paul uses this familiar phrase. It is part of their common vernacular. And for those living in this city it has become something of a slogan concerning issues of morality: “All things are lawful for me...”


The slogan’s usage conveyed something similar to modern phrases, which we might hear uttered with a shrug of indifference: “To each their own;” “Whatever goes, goes;” “I’m okay, you’re okay.” Or, paradoxically, but perhaps more accurately, “Don’t tread on me.”


Over the next few weeks, the lectionary moves us through several readings from these instructions to the Corinthians. And throughout them runs a central theme of what it looks like to faithfully engaging ethical dilemmas. The lesson for this week has to do with sexual morality, and others deal with the practicalities of equally specific issues that inevitably surface between groups of people.


Now, at this historical moment: there is no 12-step blueprint for How to Live a Godly Christian Life (certainly no Episcopalian 101, no less!). No governing church canons or vestry manual exists; not even an authoritative collection of Christian scripture...


Just imagine it for a moment: it would be like a community of people leaving a familiar setting with an established way of being and sense of shared identity, to then set off to start something new. A new community in a new place—new structures, new possibilities, new concerns, new grievances.


It would be a messy process, to say the least. Everything in this moment is a constructive act.


So, throughout his correspondence with this community that he founded, we observe Paul navigating various ethical landmines in real time. Because what it means to be a follower of Jesus is still evolving, and Paul attempts to bridge the gap between Corinthian society and the Beloved Community, to use Dr. King’s language—who, much like the Apostle Paul, attempted to bring forth mutual flourishing in the presence of great divisions.


It’s fascinating to consider the context Paul addresses... Just a few items of note:

-the ancient city of Corinth held a sizable military settlement;

-it hosted cultural events that attracted people in from great distances;

-it was located along prime trade routes, becoming a central market place;

-and it was a place that held great economic capital.


For these reasons, it provided many opportunities for social advancement—drawing together people of diverse ethnic, cultural, and religious backgrounds. But, unsurprisingly, it was also a place of well-defined social hierarchies.


It’s from within this multicultural, rather messy setting that a Christian community emerges. It’s membership included laborers, freedmen, slaves, and even some nobility. The majority were of a lower financial, educational, and social status—but not all. And with regard to various cults and religions, many differing loyalties and party divisions existed—somehow all intermingling together in one common place.


It’s remarkable, really. Social boundaries were greatly blurred, and needless to say: conflict was surely inevitable. And it’s in this context Paul grapples with the same primary concern that is the undercurrent to each of his epistles: How do we become Beloved Community?


This slogan he quotes provides a nice, pithy summary at the heart of the matter: “All things are lawful for me...


All things are lawful for me,” he affirms (some suggest with more than a little hint of sarcasm) but then adds, “but not all things are beneficial. “All things are lawful for me,” but I will not be dominated by anything.” Whether it be sexual ethics or social politics, the implication is that ethical action requires something beyond the myth of individual sovereignty.


This is much the same dilemma the cultural theorist Lauren Berlant attempts to address in their book, The Inconvenience of Other People. Berlant writes:

“we cannot be in any relation without being inconvenient to each other. This is to say: to know and be known requires experiencing and exerting pressure to be acknowledged and taken in.”

And then continuing, they add

“Acknowledgment requires a disturbance of attention and boundaries. Sustained acknowledgment requires self-reorganization.”

Though they say it quite differently, what both Berlant and Paul suggest is that if common flourishing is truly the thing we aim for than some different structures and ways of being are necessary.


Something beyond a knee-jerk impulse toward individualism is absolutely critical. To put it differently: personal liberty alone won’t get us to true freedom.


Because if every person sets preserving their own individual wellbeing as the anchor point of their lives, this whole endeavor toward equality and equity goes off the rails pretty quick. But not only does it reinforce an endless loop of competition and strife, it deteriorates the quality of life for all…


Clamoring to protect what is best for ourselves necessities greater and greater distance from one another. Because if this is the concern around which our lives orbit, not only are other people an inconvenience—they are also become a threat.


This decreased ability, or perhaps refusal, to seek the wellbeing of others does something to us. As the research of the Surgeon General, Vivek Murthy, demonstrates: we are living amidst a loneliness epidemic in the US. This trend of social isolation is growing exponentially, leading to depression and a host of quite sobering physiological repercussions.


From the earliest moment of our creation narrative, God looks at the first person made and declares that it is not good for humans to be alone.


For as inconvenient as it may seem, we need one another. We are better together.


Now, it is the year 2024—numbers which have been ringing in our ears for at least four years, if not eight. We have officially entered another general election year. And alongside much handwringing about the state of democracy, it would seem the social fabric of our nation is increasingly threadbare. Indeed, much has broken down in the spaces between us, and these are precarious times.


How do we become Beloved Community?


Alongside these issues of social isolation and the many worthwhile questions of an election year, though,… This season of Epiphany also presents to us a questions: How might we see the light of Christ, and make it radiantly manifest in our lives and in the world?


I think there is much overlap in these questions. And truthfully, Saint Peter’s—you all—know a great deal about this...


Manifesting the light of Christ looks like

-cooking a meal for a family in need;

-showing up to help someone move following the loss of a spouse;   

-a simple call to check-in with someone, just because;

-pouring love into a poinsettia arrangement for others to enjoy;

-the courageous willingness to disagree and the refusal to dehumanize;

-praying, celebrating, and then tap-dancing together over a slice of King’s Cake.


It looks like carrying one another’s burdens—through all the beautifully inconvenient highs and lows of being human together, in community.


These are the key ingredients! And this is who you are. All we need is here.


And what exists here is a light so desperately needed and hungered after in our world.


The Apostle Paul reminds the church in Corinth and us: the purpose of human freedom is not a free license to make whatever choices we deem good for merely ourselves. We are not made free to protect liberties from one another, but rather that we might love one another.


We are unavoidably bound up in webs of mutual humanity.


Walking in the way of Christ’s sacrificial love calls us beyond ourselves—to freely offering up personal liberties as a gift of love to one another. Whether in our church, neighborhood, our democratic institutions, we cannot become Beloved Community without this willingness to do so.


In words of the Book of Common Prayer:

“grant that we may never forget that our common life depends upon each other’s toil.”

Amen

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