The Front Matter and the Foundation

Advent 1B                                                                                                                                                        1 Corinthians 1:1-9

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I’ve always wanted to say that to a congregation. I’m a relatively new priest and its still kind of a holy surprise to speak the words spoken by apostles who went before me.

We heard this greeting near the beginning of our first lesson, and perhaps we glossed over it—I know that I often do—because it sounds somewhat pro forma. In fact, for Paul, it is his standard way of greeting the communities he founded and pastored.

But front matter matters. Beginnings matter. So I’m assuming that the biblical scholars who choose our lectionary readings wanted us to pay particular attention to the beginning of this letter on this first Sunday of Advent, which is the beginning of our church year. And since I happen to know how the rest of the letter goes—and likely many of you do too—you’ll notice that within this extended salutation we can already hear echoes of Paul’s message to the Corinthian community. He goes out of his way to remind them that—

To be Christian is to be transformed, as we hear in verse two: “those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints.” He also points out that God gives gifts, for which the appropriate response is gratitude. Remember how that part went went? “I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind… you are not lacking in any spiritual gift.” Also, God isn’t finished: God is still at work transforming the community as they “wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ.” And—perhaps most importantly—God is trustworthy. “God is faithful, by him you were called into the fellowship.” The very fact that they exist as community is evidence of God’s faithfulness.

That’s a lovely and powerful message of thanksgiving and encouragement, no? But—spoiler alert—its going to get worse before it gets better. The Corinthian community was actually in deep conflict, so the remainder of the letter is a fairly pointed pastoral rebuke of their bickering over such issues as who was the most charismatic leader in their midst, how their gifts should be used, class divisions in their worship practices, members of the church suing one another, and—of course, because its church—sex. And bear in mind that all of this admonition was addressed to a Christian community located in one of the wealthiest parts of the Mediterranean, which made Corinth something of a destination cultural and trade center. People were proud to live there, maybe a little to proud.

So why would Paul begin by offering grace and peace and this generous recounting of positive attributes to a community to whom he’s about to read the riot act? Some commentaries have suggested that he was deliberately being sardonic. As in “Grace and Peace to you narcissists with all those great spiritual gifts that you showing off.” Which is a possible interpretation, but seems a little passive-aggressive for Paul, who is usually very direct with his pastoral advice. Sometimes annoyingly so.

Another possibility is that Paul is telling them a deeper truth about themselves that they may have lost sight of in the midst of their pride and bickering. Which we all know can happen to any of us when we’re angry or scared. There’s a kind of parable that Alice Walker told in a book she published in the wake of the World Trade Center bombings—

In the Babemba tribe of South Africa, when a person commits a crime against a neighbor they are taken to the center of the village. Every man, woman and child in the village forms a circle around them and begins to tell the accused, one at a time, about all the good things the person has done in their lifetime. All their positive attributes, good deeds, strengths and kindnesses are recited carefully and at length. The ceremony does not cease until everyone is exhausted of every positive comment he can muster about the person in question. Only then circle is broken, a celebration takes place, and the person is symbolically and literally welcomed back into the community.”

I wonder if in opening of this letter, Paul is doing something similar with Corinthian community—who, it bears mentioning, he loves very much—by first reminding them of the goodness is their true and God given nature. And if that’s the case, then in that seemingly pro-forma greeting—grace and peace, and the reminders that follow—lies a great deal of truth that it wouldn’t hurt us to pay attention to as well.

Grace. Grace to them and to you and to us. Grace being those unmerited favors that God bestows so abundantly. Which covers a lot of ground—spiritual, financial and vocational—but in the Corinthian case and ours includes the grace of simply being able to be community for one another in a competitive and individualistic age. I know that this is your stewardship ingathering Sunday. And so as you prepare to dedicate to this church a portion of those financial gifts you have received and will receive this year, my prayer is that you do with an awareness of where all gifts come from. And that you are moved to share generously with one another and with the most vulnerable people whom God loves so deeply. Our financial gifts are one way of saying to each other, like the Babemba tribe, that we see the good in each other and am willing to invest in that good. To give in that way is grace. Grace to you.

Peace. Peace to them and to you and to us. And by peace I mean that peace which surpasses ordinary understanding because it comes from knowing that God is trustworthy even in the midst of conflict. My two young adult sons live in Oakland, just about at the ground zero where the rioting has been taking place this week. So on Wednesday it was profoundly unnerving to hear my 21-year-old say “Mom, I’m can’t come to your house tonight because I’m scared to go outside.” But then I was reminded that I never had to tell my son not to wear a hoodie outside.

How desperately we need God’s peace in a week when the Ferguson grand jury decision revealed profound racial and legal disparities in our society. But here’s a curious thing. Did you know that the Greek word apocalypse actually means “revealing”? Many of our Advent readings come from a tradition of Biblical literature that’s known as apocalyptic, witness, for example, our Gospel lesson today. Its kind of odd to listen to lessons about heaven and earth passing away when we’re in the midst of setting up Christmas tress and crèche scenes. But sometimes the only path to a true and lasting peace is to suffer the pain of seeing just how bad things can be. And when we are willing to hear the stories of our neighbors’ suffering, then perhaps we become more able to see the one for whom we long for this Advent season. The Prince of Peace. Peace to you.

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. That’s the apostolic greeting. But an apostle is nothing more or less than a person who is sent to carry the Good News. So in that sense, these are words that belong to all of us. It’s the front matter and the very foundation of our life together. So go ahead, say it to one another, with feeling! Turn to someone nearby and greet them with grace and peace.