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1 Corinthians 4:1-21 · Apostles of Christ
By Whose Standards?
1 Corinthians 4:1-5
Sermon
by John N. Brittain
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As the current century dawned, Time magazine placed Einstein on the front cover as the Person of the Century. By happenstance, Mohandas Gandhi was on the back cover as part of an advertisement for a computer company. I suppose that says something about our values. What is it that we really think is most important in life? In church we talk about the need for Christians to be "different," a chosen people, a royal priesthood. What does that mean? How do Christians need to be different?

Over the years, I have had both traditional and nontraditional students comment on the ancient account of the martyrdom of Vibia Perpetua (181-203 AD) in the arena during the persecution of Christians by the Emperor Septimius Severus. This story was widely circulated in the ancient world as a model of the kind of appropriate spiritual preparation one could make for their death on behalf of the Lord and, according to John Tyson, "became a source of encouragement and reflection for the church of North Africa and the Latin-speaking world."1 In my experience, that is the "in church" answer, but when folks reflect on this in another context (the classroom), the reactions are much more mixed. A good percentage find the story inspiring and the students say that they hope they would have the courage of their faith to make a similar stand. But a substantial number — often more than half — admit they are not so sure.

Perhaps Vibia was a little extreme. "Was there not some way she could have saved herself while maintaining her faith?" someone will muse. Martyrdom makes most of us pretty uneasy. And it is not as if such situations are not still around. Remember Abdul Rahman? He was the fellow who had converted to Christianity, lived in exile for a number of years, and then returned to his home in Afghanistan, only to face what for a while (in the spring of 2006) looked like certain execution. And that was at the hands of our "allies." What about him? Was he an inspiring witness or a raving lunatic? How do you really feel when you hear about people like Saint Francis massaging the open sores of the lepers or someone who decides to live sacrificially like Mother Teresa? When a recent grad left her promising career with an engineering firm (at a time when women engineers were rare) to take vows with the Little Sisters of the Poor, not everyone knew how to react.

For the past several weeks we have seen Paul dealing with issues like this: What does it mean to be a believer in Jesus Christ in Corinth, and what does it mean to be a leader in the community? What role should the values and mores of the surrounding culture play, and to what extent should those in the Christian community be "different" and how? To what extent should these believers expect their leaders to be like the popular "wise men" of their day, part teacher, and part first-century talk show host, enflaming the crowd's passions? These are perennial issues. Today the church has to continually ask the Sesame Street question, "How are they the same and how are they different?" In what ways should the church today be "run like a business"? To what extent should we use tools of advertising and be sensitive to the latest polls? If we are too different, do we simply become irrelevant? If we become too relevant, too much "the same" as the surrounding culture, are we no longer faithful? These are tough questions. They have always been.

"Now think about it this way…." Those sound like weasel words to us: A phrase the husband might use to explain how it is that he went out for a gallon of milk and returned with a new riding mower. "Well dear, just look at it this way…." But that is not what Paul is about. He is circling back to the issue with which he had begun, namely divisions in the Corinthian church focused on a preference for one leader over another: "I belong to Apollos, I belong to Cephas." This dividedness was quite understandable. They, like we, had different personalities and preferences, so the preaching of one apostle would have struck more of a chord than that of others. Those who were converted under the preaching of a certain apostle would have felt an identification not just with that individual but with each other, so certain subgroups were bound to develop. That was all natural and understandable. But the unfortunate fact was that such subgrouping was dividing the body and diminishing its witness, and so it has gone throughout history.

Paul worked hard to find metaphors to underscore the need for unity and eventually (in chapter 12) he will devise his famous analogy of the human body. He and Apollos had worked together as fellow laborers in the field, Paul wrote, but it was God who provided the growth. He had laid a foundation upon which others had built, and their materials and care in building would eventually be revealed. Will it — the assembly of believers, the spirit-filled temple — last? It depended on how it was built. So now he says, "Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ and stewards of God's mysteries." "Servants" and "stewards" — those seem like common enough words in the church, but it turns out that Paul has chosen some very interesting language that would have struck the ear of the initial hearer a little differently than it does us. I once heard a preacher described as being "long on Greek and short on common-sense," so I always try to avoid superfluous allusions to the biblical languages since we have such an abundance of wonderful translations. (You know, in the original Greek, the term used here means "ordinary." Isn't that why all the translations say, "ordinary"?) But in this case, a little word study has its place.

When we see the word "servant" in the New Testament it most often translates the Greek term doulos and occasionally diakonos. Indeed, in modern translations the word doulos has been a bone of contention because many argue that the literal translation would be "slave," but in the ancient sense of a "slave" being an indentured servant, someone who may even have voluntarily sold himself into service, rather than the kind of forced servitude we tend to associate with slavery. Diakonos is the word from which we derive the English term "deacon," and we recognize that as someone who assists in the life of the church. But Paul, seemingly deliberately, uses a less-common term, also properly translated as servant: The term is huperetes. It is a compound word coming from hupo, meaning "under," and eretes, meaning "a rower." This was one of the guys in the lowest rank of rowers in a Roman trireme, one of the ancient galleys that had three rows of rowers. It was not a seaman, there was another term for those (nautes), and it was not just a rower. It was an under-rower, the lowest and lowliest of the rowers. There are a few other places where this term appears in the New Testament, and it always emphasizes the subordinate role of the person designated huperetes.

In Acts 13:5 (NASV), "When [Paul and Barnabas] reached Salamis, they began to proclaim the word of God in the synagogues of the Jews; and they also had John as their helper [huperetes]." And Paul recounting his own conversion experience in Acts 26:15, "Arise, and stand on your feet; for this purpose I have appeared to you, to appoint you a minister [huperetes] and a witness not only to the things which you have seen, but also to the things in which I will appear to you" (Acts 26:16). And now, in today's reading: "Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ and stewards of God's mysteries." A common illustration of Paul's intent is to use an image from modern rowing: Jesus is the coxswain directing and urging on the crew of which Paul and Apollos are members. Well, that's okay as far as it goes but it misses the fact that we are talking about under-rowers. The image is not that of a lightweight shell skimming the Charles River near Harvard, but a large galley, perhaps outfitted for war. It is not a crew of equals. And the huperetes is at the bottom of the totem pole. So by this term, Paul is really emphasizing lowliness.

Then, somewhat surprisingly, Paul links this term with "steward," and we must immediately cleanse our mind of the annual "stewardship" campaign to see the significance of this word, oikonomos. Here is another compound word, but now from the word for house (oikos) and the one for law or rule (nomos). The oikonomos was one who ruled over a household on behalf of the owner. The oikonomos might be a slave or a free person, but he was in charge, he was the major domo of the household or the estate. He was in charge of everything, buying and distributing supplies, hiring, firing, and supervising the staff. He was at the very top of the totem pole, but, of course, still ultimately responsible to the owner.

Elsewhere (Galatians and 2 Corinthians), Paul insists on his right to the title "apostle." Clearly he means to include both Apollos and Peter as "apostles." This word "apostle," literally "one who is sent out," did not always have the specialized meaning it has come to have for many of us. In fact, the word is still used in the Greek Orthodox church to simply mean someone who is sent out on religious work. Paul here uses the word in a broader sense than the "twelve apostles." He means any leader in the church sent by God. And he is one. But he has been deliberately highlighting other words. He has already said "workers" and "builders"; now "servants" and "stewards." This was an effective way of reminding the Corinthians that the apostles were by no means as conceited about themselves as their partisans were. Paul is judged by God, as are we all. We may think of ourselves or others at various levels of importance on life's totem pole (huperetes near the bottom, oikonomis toward the top), but before God we all stand on level ground. Paul is foreshadowing a thought he treated more fully in his letter to the Romans that we will examine next week: no matter our position in life "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23).

By what standards do we evaluate persons in the Christian community today? Do we not often make the same mistakes as the Corinthians? We judge on the basis of appearance, personality, academic degrees, number of books published(!), speaking ability, prestige, success, and so on. One can only ponder what Paul would think of the qualifications listed in ads for Christian workers in publications like The Christian Century, Christianity Today, or Monday Morning. I say "would think" because I trust that Paul has far better material to occupy his mind today. This is why Paul is able to say, "... With me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. I do not even judge myself."

Before we jump to the conclusion that Paul is trying to put himself above evaluation, as it were, we need to see that he is actually saying that rather than courting favor with the Corinthians by playing popularity games, he is putting himself firmly on the hook of the kind of evaluation that matters most. Has he not just pointed out that, "It is required of stewards that they should be found trustworthy"? This is reminiscent of the story Jesus told in Luke 12:42-44, "Who then is the faithful and prudent manager (oikonomos) whom his master will put in charge of his slaves, to give them their allowance of food at the proper time? Blessed is that slave whom his master will find at work when he arrives. Truly I tell you, he will put that one in charge of all his possessions." Presumably the faithful actions of the manager, which so please the master might not always score points with those being supervised. The meaning is clear.

I wonder if one of the things that has made Henri Nouwen (1932-96) such a popular figure among many Christians over the past 25 years is that he seemed very willing to slide up and down that totem pole of importance as he strove to put himself on that hook of accountability to the master, the evaluation that really mattered. Nouwen knew he wanted to be a priest from childhood and was clearly an individual of great intellect. While in the seminary, he developed an interest in psychology and in 1964 was named a fellow in the program for religion and psychiatry at the Menninger Foundation in Topeka, Kansas. After that, he joined the faculty at Notre Dame University. He clearly could have had a stellar career in academe. Over the next two decades, he taught in the divinity schools at Yale and Harvard. But rather than simply advance along the tenure track, he also served as a missionary in Bolivia and Peru, and twice lived as a monk at the Abbey of the Genesee not too far up the road from Houghton College in western New York.

Perhaps the most dramatic move in Nouwen's life was when, in 1984, he became chaplain of the L'Arche community in Toronto, L'Arche Daybreak. L'Arche ("the ark" in French) is a community for persons with significant handicapping conditions. He wrote many of his most popular books while living in L'Arche, including The Journey To Daybreak, The Return of the Prodigal Son, and Adam, a work about his relationship with a man with profound learning disabilities. Here was a man who could well have been doing other, "more important" work, but who chose the life he discerned as appropriate.

And, if you will forgive the rabbit-trail, I cannot help but think of a man whose biography carried the same title as one of Nouwen's most famous works: The Wounded Healer. He was J. B. Phillips, most well known for his modern-language translation of scripture and the short book, Your God is Too Small, which has had a life changing impact on untold numbers of people. But as great a man and undoubtedly great a Christian as was Phillips, he allowed himself to be caught up too much in the expectations of others. The story is chronicled both by him in his autobiography, The Price of Success, and in his wife's 1985 biography of him titled, The Wounded Healer. There we read:

At first every invitation was accepted as a challenge, as a call from the Lord. But when invitations reached three hundred a year, that theory became ridiculous. Even under control, his was a massive programme of writing, speaking, conferences, broadcasts, visits to cities and towns in America and throughout Great Britain. From 1955 to 1961 he maintained this killing programme and at last, when he was fifty-five, he cracked. As one doctor put it, he was scooped out. He felt all his creative powers slipping away.2At first every invitation was accepted as a challenge, as a call from the Lord. But when invitations reached three hundred a year, that theory became ridiculous. Even under control, his was a massive programme of writing, speaking, conferences, broadcasts, visits to cities and towns in America and throughout Great Britain. From 1955 to 1961 he maintained this killing programme and at last, when he was fifty-five, he cracked. As one doctor put it, he was scooped out. He felt all his creative powers slipping away.2

With the death of C. S. Lewis on the same day President Kennedy was assassinated in 1963, much of the English-speaking world expected J. B. Phillips to take up his apologetic mantle. But, as the quote reveals, by then he was no longer able. I relate this in no way to diminish the faithful and fruitful service of Dr. Phillips, but to illustrate how insidious matters of expectation and evaluation can become.

So what is most important in life? How are Christians to be "different"? And how are we to evaluate how we are doing? Paul says we have to abandon conventional wisdom and the normal ways of evaluating. And that is very hard. Because we all know in our bones that even if he is accountable to his master, the oikonomos is more skilled and more highly valued than the huperetes. If there is one thing that pop psychology has taught us, it is that how we feel about ourselves, having a "positive self-image" is terribly important, a notion Paul seems to dismiss in 4b: "I am not thereby acquitted." Paul says it is faithfulness that is most crucial in the long run. Maybe that is why we are so attracted to people like Francis of Assisi, Mother Teresa, and Henri Nouwen. Each of them were gifted and could have been successful by any of a number of criteria. But they chose the one Paul commends to us in 1 Corinthians 4: They were faithful. Amen.

1. John Tyson, Invitation to Christian Spirituality (New York: Oxford Press, 1999), p. 60.

2. Vera Phillips and Edwin Robertson, The Wounded Healer (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1985), p. 21.

CSS Publishing, Inc., Sermons for Sundays in Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany: With Our Own Eyes, by John N. Brittain