Sermon for the 3rd Sunday of Epiphany: The Body of Christ: our differing gifts – preached at the Eucharist, Sherborne Abbey, on Sunday, 23 January 2022 by Canon Charles Mitchell-Innes.  (1 Corinthians 12: 12 – 31; Luke 4: 14 – 21)

I am always intrigued by the storyline in Luke which I have just read for today’s Gospel, and which occurs only in a basic summary in Matthew and Mark, and not at all in John. It is the mood swings of the congregation in the Nazareth synagogue that are so arresting. Jesus returns home for the first time in his ministry, and chooses an inspiring and declamatory passage from Isaiah to read and speak about.

At first his words, about the arrival of a new messianic age, are received with praise and approval, tempered with some surprise that this local boy had become so eloquent since starting as an itinerant preacher. Then they begin to realize the subtext  –  that he is himself claiming a central position in this new age. That unsettles them. Soon they turn hostile, aggressively so. And what brings this on? Well, it is Jesus’ using Elijah as an example. That greatest of pre-classical prophets had healed and performed miracles, not for Israelites, but for foreigners: the widow of Zarephath and Naaman the Syrian, as Jesus reminds them.  What in effect he is saying is that the new age will encompass not simply Jews but the gentile world as well. That was anathema, and they boiled over with rage, taking him out and attempting to throw him over a cliff. Their religion did not extend to the gentile world; in that respect it was insular and exclusive. The final puzzle is how Jesus got away. “He passed through the midst of them,” says Luke; and I am reminded of those cliff-hangers (literally in this case) in radio and TV serials and in books, where the hero is left inextricably bound, gagged and generally stymied. Then in the next episode or chapter we are informed that “with one stride he was free.” Luke probably intends us to recognize this deus ex machina as indeed divine intervention, the hand of God.

And so we come to St Paul writing to the Corinthians. His picture of the Church as being like the different parts of the body  –  distinct yet entirely interdependent  –  is a striking one and justly well-known, though not as famous as his hymn to love in the next chapter (for which you’ll have to wait until next week). The Corinthian Christians were a quarrelsome lot, with various groups or factions within the Church who couldn’t agree. Does that sound familiar to Anglicans? Paul is adamant that such harmful dissensions should cease, since collectively the Church members formed the Body of Christ. Every part of that body must work together in harmony, or else the whole body fails.

But note the subtlety of this analogy. It is not a recipe for monolithic uniformity. Just as the limbs and organs of the body serve different functions, each having its own way of operating, so Church members provide various forms of service and possess differing gifts. These can work in what you might call creative tension, but they should complement, not conflict with, each other. Mutual trust is vital for achieving unity in diversity.

At the head of the list of those who serve the Church Paul places Apostles. These were the people who had known Jesus in his earthly life and were witnesses to the Resurrection. They could be trusted and their accounts were reliable; they held the respect of all. Faith in the integrity and reliability of others is crucial. I may have mentioned before an occasion when, as a CCF officer in the school here  –  and recently ordained  –  I found myself standing at the top of a small cliff in Coombe Valley roped up to cadets as they abseiled down it. I had just clipped one boy onto my rope when he looked at me quizzically and asked, “Are you qualified to do this?” “Not at all,” I said. “But I am qualified to give you the Last Rites.” Strangely that seemed to reassure him, for the next moment he was on his way down the rockface, and then kept coming back for more. Trust, you see, can be earned, but it usually takes a bit longer than that. It is a vital component of any social group, and of society as a whole; and we have seen recently what happens when trust and respect fail in public life.

Paul’s list also includes Prophets  –  those who are prepared to speak out for what is right and for the truth; and Teachers, who in a Church context can relay important aspects of the faith. He mentions also Helpers, whose pastoral care is so important, both in a formal setting and informally too. Nor does he forget Administrators, people not in the limelight but whose work enables the Church to function properly. In a parish setting these would include not just office staff, but church wardens, vergers, sidesmen, flower arrangers, cleaners and many others.

At the bottom of the list he places those who speak in tongues. I sometimes rather naughtily mention this to my charismatic Christian friends. But Paul has a particular reason for this: the Corinthians had rather a penchant for speaking in tongues, so much so that some felt you were not a proper church member if you did not. Paul’s point  –  just as significant today  –  is that we all have a role to play in the Body of Christ. None of us can claim to be the whole, but none is insignificant or excluded. What is important is the way we recognize and nurture each other’s particular gifts, not just our own.

Jesus’ implied suggestion to his congregation in the synagogue at Nazareth, that they should include the gentile world, reminds us not to become so engrossed with our Church community that we fail to look outwards too. And there is one overriding gift, above and beyond all the particular ones we have considered, that enables us to reach out to those within and those outside our communities. It is in the reach of the most ordinary believer, and is able to unite the varied, sometimes conflicting elements of the Body of Christ. It is Paul’s “still more excellent way,” that we shall hear about next week: the way of love.