Wednesday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 433

I could not talk to you as spiritual people,
but as fleshly people, as infants in Christ.
I fed you milk, not solid food,
because you were unable to take it.
Indeed, you are still not able, even now,
for you are still of the flesh.

In his first letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul does not hesitate to scold his disciples for acting like children. They are feuding among themselves, and some of them are using his name as a mark of superiority over other factions in the Church. The opponents of Paul speak of Apollos, Barnabas, or Cephas. Although it's not clear in the text, some "peacemakers" may have suggested that the several factions go their separate ways, and that a divided Church could represent the one Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. 

The idea never crossed the Apostle's mind. He knew only one Christ, and there could be only one church with its one foundation. No Christian could be satisfied with a divided Church, any more than any human being would be satisfied by severing an arm or leg. If an amputation must occur -- and the Gospels attest to the wisdom of amputating diseased limbs -- the severed part must die that the rest might live. Agreeing to disagree resolves nothing.

I often hear Christians say they must attend the Church that "feeds" them. They do not believe they are fed by the Body and Blood of the Lord, nor are they satisfied by the readings from sacred scripture. They are content only with an agreeable homily preached with a familiar accent. They expect their parish to be well provided with talented musicians and singers, readers and preachers; and the congregations should demonstrate hospitable to all visitors while providing an unaffected, focussed devotion to spiritual things. Proper air conditioning, lighting, and decor are also important; as is adequate space to park. Nor do they mind crossing great distances to find that utopian congregation. They must be fed. 

I suspect that if they find such a church, it will be the last one they attend on their way out the door. They frankly don't like our human nature with its variety, flaws, and foibles. If they are curious about the complex history of a congregation, they aren't necessarily interested in becoming a part of that complexity. 

Saint Paul spoke of the Body of Christ because he heard the Lord complain, "Why do you persecute me?" His assault was not only on the beliefs of a new Jewish faction; he was threatening and attacking people. He was not persuading them by getting to know them personally, by empathy with their God-hunger, or with reasonable arguments. He was trying the more familiar route of threats and punishment. He believed that harm and the threat of harm would dissuade believers from pursuing the Way of Christ. He obviously knew little about God's people. A glance through the first chapters of 1 Maccabees would have revealed a deeper truth. 

The Incident on the road to Damascus persuaded the Pharisee that the Risen Lord suffered with his church because he is the head of the body. Pain anywhere in the body is felt throughout the body. Only a madman would cause pain in one part of his own body to give pleasure to other parts. 

Paul might have been enjoying the hospitality of Ephesus when he wrote First Corinthians but his hurt was there in Corinth. The news of their division was insufferable. 

A cardinal attending the Second Vatican Council, upon hearing discussion of synodality and conciliarism, quipped, "The only time the entire church ever agreed on anything is found in Mark 14:50. 

But we remain committed to that elusive unity. It requires both empathy and truth-speaking, patience and courage, and a willingness to endure into everlasting life.