I Corinthians 12: 14Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. 15If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. 16And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. 17If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? 18But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. 19If they were all one part, where would the body be? 20As it is, there are many parts, but one body.  21The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” 22On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, 23and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, 24while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, 25so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. 26If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.  27Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it. 28And in the church God has appointed first of all apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then workers of miracles, also those having gifts of healing, those able to help others, those with gifts of administration, and those speaking in different kinds of tongues. 29Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? 30Do all have gifts of healing? Do all speak in tongues? Do all interpret? 31But eagerly desire the greater gifts.

I owe the main point of today’s message to a theologian I heard recently, when he spoke at a local seminary. He’s Justo Gonzalez, a Cuban Methodist pastor and theologian, who served many years as a teacher and leader of a seminary in San Juan, Puerto Rico. I heard Dr. Gonzalez speak about the very passage we just heard this morning. In his talk, he told about a big ecumenical celebration at the seminary, when representatives from all the Christian denominations of Puerto Rico came together for worship, and to celebrate their unity in Christ. As he read verses 22-25, it was all he could do to keep himself from laughing out loud as an oddball and slightly irreverent idea struck him. Here he was reading this passage about giving special honor to the weaker parts of the body, about how we protect and even dress up the most vulnerable and least presentable parts of the body, and listening to this were all these cardinals, bishops and arch-bishops, metropolitans and reverends and Right-Reverends, in their gold-brocaded robes and pointy hats, with their ornate, golden crosses and shepherds’ staves. Even lowly pastors and conference ministers of low church denominations were wearing robes and stoles and big, golden crosses on their chests. In the midst of this glamorous ecumenical fashion show, it was all he could do to keep himself from interrupting the Bible reading to laugh and to ask, “Is that why we’re all decked out like this and have these grand, honorific titles like Father, Right Reverend and Your Holiness? Because we the clergy are actually the weakest and least presentable parts of the body of Christ?”

I’ll let you decide on your own answer to that question.

In today’s passage, Paul draws our attention to the different treatment that we give to different parts of our own bodies. Its all one body, but it doesn’t all get the same treatment, decoration or coverage. Construction workers don’t wear their work boots on their ears, just as the Minnesota Vikings don’t take the field wearing athletic supporters on their elbows. Of course that’s not equal treatment for the body parts. But its necessary and strategic. Without getting too graphic, suffice it to say that our particularly tender, vulnerable and private parts get the most protection and care, because they need it.

Dr. Gonzalez went on to say that this ironic twist, that we give the most honor, protection, covering and even decoration to the weakest, most private and least presentable parts of the body, is the very hinge on which this passage turns, on which it turns even in a surprising new direction. Its a new idea about their relationships that he most wants the Corinthians to get their minds around. Its where their customary body talk has suddenly jumped the rails and gone in another direction.

Up until verses 22-25, while Paul compares the church to the human body, he is not telling the Corinthians anything they had never heard before. Comparing a community to a human body was common to the day and time, whether that community was a family, a city, a country or even the empire. But it was usually used to explain why the emperor was the emperor, why the middle class was in the middle, and why the slaves were slaves. Because, supposedly, the gods had so arranged the parts and pieces of “the body politic” to serve the directions of the head, just as the liver, the lungs and the heart serve by the signals of the brain. That was the conventional wisdom of Greek and Roman society in the First Century: how and why everyone was arranged in order of status and power, from top to bottom, so that the strongest and most presentable parts of the community body got the most honor, decoration, power and protection.

The whole focus and orientation of this kind of “body politic” was the person at the pinnacle of power. In that kind of arrangement, the weaker parts of the body politic, like slaves, soldiers, women, Jews and unskilled free men and women, were quite dispensable, and easily abused or neglected.

And not much has changed. Inequality of power, wealth and opportunity are growing around the world, with disastrous results for health, peace and happiness. Just around the corner from us this morning, on 24^th Street, between Park and Chicago Avenues, are two starkly different symbols of how we organize ourselves in response to human weakness and need. One is Hope Academy, a faith-based school that serves inner city children, many of whom are at risk and in need. Next to it, in the grounds of the Eye Hospital, is an abortion clinic. As much as that saddens me, I’m not recommending we go march over to the abortion clinic and block the doors. At that point and place, I think its too late to do something about abortion. Every so often, I see protesters from both sides of the issue out there in a tense stand-off, and their relationships—or lack thereof– make me sad. Its like watching some highly scripted dance with very predictable sound and motion, but little real communication, creativity or human connection on either side.

But I find that juxtaposition of a school with an abortion clinic, on the same block, deeply symbolic, in a disturbing way. A school is a prime example of a community that is organized and oriented toward the weakest, the neediest, the most vulnerable: children, and their needs. Especially a school like Hope Academy. The abortion clinic, on the other hand, speaks to me of the tragic ways in which those same children might be unwanted, their conception and birth considered a disaster. For that I blame men, as much as mothers, for the very tragedy at the heart of this conflict: that a human life, real or potential, would be unwanted in the first place. The position of these two organizations on the same block to me is a visible parable about our common ambivalence toward weakness and need, including our own. On one hand we want to turn, with compassion, toward those in need. On the other, something tempts us to run from the fist sign of our common human vulnerability. Its what prompted some cities to actually pass laws a century ago that prohibited persons with diseases, deformities or amputations from being present on the streets: the fear of our weakness, our vulnerability and our dependence one upon one another. Its what prompted the question that Cain posed to God, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The rest of the Bible is God’s answer to that unfortunate question, including, and especially, Paul’s surprising words about the body of Christ.

But ever since Cain tossed that defiant question at the face of God, human societies have tended to orient themselves toward the desires and dictates of the most powerful and privileged members, as we see with warlords like Hitler, Mao or Pol Pot, or when corporate raiders raid company assets and pensions and walk off with more wealth than they know what to do with, while leaving others unemployed, or with the mafia, or in the pre-packaged celebrity people product industry, in which people live vicariously through the escapades of tabloid magazine subjects.

Every human society that is oriented towards the top always and eventually requires sacrificial victims, whether in the womb, or when of the age of military service, or whether they are identifiable by their language, their skin color, their country of origin, or by the documents they don’t carry. Then no one is safe from the possibility of an ever-widening feeding frenzy. Like Pastor Martin Niemoller said, during Hitler’s regime, “When they came for the Communists, I said nothing, because I’m not a Communist; When they came for the labor unions and the Socialists, I said nothing, because I’m not a union member or a Socialist; when they came for the Jews, I said nothing, because I’m not a Jew; and when they came for me, no one said anything, because no one else was left.” As I read I Corinthians, I get the impression that Paul was trying to put a stop to the feeding frenzy that was happening in those churches. It was a feeding frenzy over who was the most spiritually gifted, and who had the most power, honor and liberty among them.

Now we might say, “But wait a minute! Christ is the head of our body, the church, and we give all honor and obedience to him.” Doesn’t that mean we’re oriented toward one supreme leader too? I hope we are. But the head of this body is is the Christ who says, “Whatever you have done for the least of these, my brethren, you have done for me.” Christ identifies himself with the lowest, weakest and neediest parts of our body politic, and is most often to be found by loving and serving them. Whatever we do to honor, serve, cherish and protect them, we do for Jesus.

Today’s passage then speaks of an opposite organizing principle than the one found in most societies, one that’s truer to the human body, and the body of Christ: that no part of the body is dispensable, especially not the weaker parts, and the most care and protection go to the most vulnerable and least presentable parts. That’s the surprise twist that Paul adds to the conventional social body talk of his time. If such an orientation toward the most vulnerable, the weakest and their needs sounds burdensome and unfair, remember that the most vulnerable, weak and needy include ourselves, if not now, then some day. Yes, Paul says that “the body parts should have equal concern for each other.” But that only happens when a group is oriented toward seeing and serving their weakest and most vulnerable members. Otherwise, we drift back into the human default mode of serving, fearing, envying and even worshiping the most powerful and privileged people. Rather than a burden, this new organizing principle is good news for all of us.

We do this already at Emmanuel Mennonite Church in several ways. One is with our policy for preventing abuse and responding if ever, God forbid, there should be even any hint of it. Then there’s our top notch Christian education program and teachers. We also have a deacon’s fund to respond to financial crises and emergencies, or to help people with needs they might not be able to afford, like utilities or counseling. Our denomination and conference, and other church agencies, stand ready to help us deal with the inevitable issues of physical and mental disabilities, and of mental and emotional health needs that we all face. Some day I’d like to see us address the issue of accessibility in this building for those with physical impairments. No one’s knees are getting younger. Remember, whenever we talk about organizing and orienting ourselves toward the needs of the most vulnerable and weak, we’re not talking about “them,” we’re talking about “us” and “ourselves.” That makes us, the Body of Christ, God’s answer to Cain’s question, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

I Corinthians 12: 7Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good. 8To one there is given through the Spirit the message of wisdom, to another the message of knowledge by means of the same Spirit, 9to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by that one Spirit, 10to another miraculous powers, to another prophecy, to another distinguishing between spirits, to another speaking in different kinds of tongues, and to still another the interpretation of tongues. 11All these are the work of one and the same Spirit, and he gives them to each one, just as he determines.  12The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ. 13For we were all baptized by one Spirit into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.

There’s a message in this passage for anyone who has ever felt lonely and isolated. Today’s message is also for anyone who has ever felt like they could use a little bit more loneliness and isolation, a little breathing space from all the pressures of society, family, school or the workplace, to conform to something and someone other than our true selves. In fact, today’s message is for anyone who has ever felt both feelings. Because to be human is to need both space and closeness, to belong and to be oneself, to have to manage both kinds of needs, sometimes at the very same moment. Life is like a community solitaire team: being responsible for ourselves……together.

This delicate dance of belonging and being oneself starts out early, and unfolds as we age. Babies see themselves first in the eyes and faces of their parents. Their unique bodies, brains and souls develop as they mimic the movements, sounds and expressions of people interacting with them, and as people mimic them.

A wonderful book title captures the delicate dance of negotiating the shoals of dependence, independence and interdependence as we grow up. Its entitled: “Get Out of My Life, Mom and Dad!—But First Will You Take Me and Cheryl to the Mall?” Or as one person once put it, “I just need other people to appreciate me for the independent person I really am.”

Today, life in America probably errs on the side of isolation and individualism. The author Robert Putnam summed it up best in the title of his book, Bowling Alone. Yes, people can and really do bowl alone. It chronicles the near death of community forums and opportunities like Parent-Teacher Associations or community block watches. That may be hard to believe in civic-minded Minneapolis, but when Becky and I lived in the Detroit area, a couple living next door to us went to ridiculous lengths to avoid us, to never even acknowledge our existence, even though we had two drop-dead cute daughters whom no one else in their right mind could possibly not want to know and play with. In that relationship, or lack thereof, separation gave way to fear. Is this going to end up like some Alfred Hitchcock movie? Do we need an alarm system? Nothing happened, fortunately. But I hope they changed their ways before they discovered the bitter truth that Yogi Berra, the Baseball Hall of Fame catcher for the Yankees expressed so well, when he said, “If you don’t go to other people’s funerals, they won’t come to yours.”

In keeping with this individualism and isolation, a quick glance through the movie ads of the newspaper, or at the latest new computer games advertised at the bus stops (“Red Dead Redemption?”) shows that the most compelling, best-selling heroic epic stories are those about courageous, principled, solitary, tragically misunderstood heroes at war with a corrupt and cowardly community. Anyone remember the Billy Jack movies? On the other extreme you get stories about villains so inhuman, so sociopathic, so antisocial, without any redeeming features, and so incurably at war with a virtuous, peaceful community, that blowing them away is the only possible relief and resolution. Neither of those extremes strike me as real to life. Lately, the plot lines are about the war between a crazy and corrupt community, and loners and oddballs who are equally as crazy and corrupt, on TV shows like Survivor or The Office.

All these story lines have in common the assumption that there can never be peace in this tragic but unavoidable war between the individual and his or her wider network of relationships. Almost totally lacking in either our language, or increasingly our experience, are relationships between the individual and the community that work to the benefit of both. Gone from many mental radars is even the possibility of a community that maximizes the health and growth of the individual members, and how individual members might grow and become their best by serving other people and relationships—a community. Is there any way to be ourselves and to be in relationship, to develop those talents, gifts and interests that just want to bust out of us, without having to burn our bridges, go it alone, and wind up lonely, isolated and bitter?

Yes. Paul draws our attention to an example of this kind of harmony between the parts and the whole that is literally right beneath our noses. It even includes our noses. Its the human body. In verse 12 of First Corinthians 12, he says: “The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ.” For example, the liver can best serve the brain, the heart and the lungs by acting like a liver, and not like a lung. Lungs put oxygen into the bloodstream, and that helps the liver. Oxygenated blood also goes through the liver, but to take out wastes and put in sugar. And that helps every other organ be and do what they’re supposed to do. In our own bodies, then, is God’s picture and promise of a world in which people can also be their true selves by being in harmony, connection and accountability to each other, and in which people can contribute most to a better world by becoming and being their own best selves. In fact, it can’t be any other way than both ways.

That’s is what true unity is: not when we act the same, think the same and are the same. What planet does that happen on? Rather, unity is when all our different gifts and perspectives and experience function together to bless each other and the world. Total agreement on everything is not necessary nor even helpful to that.

That’s how Paul wants his Corinthian disciples to relate to each other: they need each other in order to become all that God means each one of them to be. Paul mentions the different gifts they brought to the Corinthian church: speaking in tongues, interpreting them, prophecy, healing and other miraculous works. I won’t explain or define all of them now, partly because I’m still figuring out what they are. But the principle behind them is clear: We need each other’s gifts in order to best develop and use our own, just as we must best use our own, if they are to work well together with those of others.

If that sounds like an impossible balancing act to manage, well, it is a miracle: the miracle of Christ within us and among us. “So it is with Christ,” Paul says. In saying that, Paul compares the church, with all its different but necessary and interdependent parts to the human body. Then he takes us beneath the skin of the church, the body of Christ, to show us that it is Christ who is expressing himself in the world through a diverse unity, and a united diversity, of people who share one mission, but who bring different tools to it, people who share one vision, but who have different gifts; one Lord, one loyalty, one love, but different roles, perspectives and expressions: just like the human body.

This all began when, “we were all baptized by one Spirit into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink” (that’s our banner verse for the year, again). I take it Paul means our baptism as individual members into the Christian life and the church. So we must respect the unique capacities, backgrounds and identities that each person brings to the church, the body of Christ, in their case, Jewish or Gentile, slave or free. Which was daring to say, because nowhere else in that day and time did Jews and Gentiles, slaves or free people expect to interact and relate in such equal and interdependent ways, than in the churches that Paul was planting.

But why should we be surprised by such miracles? Right from the Creation account of Genesis 1, we meet a God who engages chaos not to create uniformity but harmony, a God who speaks forth a world that is diverse and yet interdependent. Ours is a God who is revealed and glorified by harmony, not conformity, by a cooperative diversity, rather than a monotonous uniformity. A God who works not just through persons, but through partnerships.

That’s why our church growth plan, developed a few years back, begins with spiritual growth—our own personal spiritual growth– but it also includes relational matters like partnership and hospitality. To have the most effect on the world, we must let God have his effect on our selves. To be the most magnetic, compelling and effectual church we can be together, we must surrender ourselves personally, intentionally, daily and constantly to the magnetic, compelling and effectual work of the Holy Spirit on our souls. And yet no one can sustain that stance of surrender and cooperation with God for very long on their own, not without other people to help us, and whom we can help. That means that the knowledge and love of God, the knowledge and love of self, and the knowledge and love of others, are the three parallel rails on which are lives are moving toward the New Jerusalem. If our wheels become disengaged from any one of those three rails, the wheels on the other two rails will grind to a halt, too.

So let’s lay hold of this delightful paradox: that we can only be our true, unique, God-intended selves in relationship and community, and that we can only be in true, God-intended relationship and community by learning to be and to value our true selves and each other. That’s how God made the human body, and the body of Christ—the church– with unique but interdependent parts. That’s also how God made the planet, and even the universe. In such unity and community there is even a picture of God himself, Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.