When I told friends and acquaintances in Minnesota that I was moving to New Jersey, one of the commonest responses was, "How close will you be to Atlantic City?" This seemed to me to be an odd reaction, it certainly isn't something I'm particularly attuned to. But now every time I turn the corner to my apartment I see a sign that says "Atlantic City - 47 miles". So I suppose it's not too surprising that the image that kept coming to my mind as I was meditating on this week's Scripture lesson was a roulette wheel. Now I know that gambling is a controversial issue, and no doubt one that we'll discuss often in the future. But let's try to set the pros and cons of the issue aside, and just look at that wheel for a minute.
As long as that wheel spins, the little ball whirls about in the opposite direction to the wheel, forced up and out against the inside of the rim by centrifugal force. As long as the wheel spins, the ball can't come to rest. Do you ever feel like that? Does your life ever feel as though it's spinning you around so fast that you not only don't have any control, but that it's going in exactly the opposite direction of where you would choose to go - if you had any choice? Or even if you are going in the right direction, do you ever wish for it to slow down, for a moment or two, so that you could take stock, check your bearings, make sure you're on track?
Imagine that the wheel is beginning to slow. Think of all the places it could come to rest. It bounces off one or two, skitters around the edge again, touches a few more possibilities, and finally the wheel comes to a stop and the ball is at rest.
But where it comes to rest is random, if the game is honest. Any slot is as likely as any other. And where it comes to rest this time has no effect on where it will come to rest next time. There's neither rhyme nor reason, only the laws of probability.
Where we come to rest, when our lives slow, is not random.
Where we come to rest, when our lives slow down, affects how we live when the pace picks up again.
Where we come to rest, when our lives slow down, is a product of our habits and our hopes, and reveals what we most deeply believe as clearly as anything else we say or do.
Where we come to rest is our center, from where our lives draw meaning.
Where do you come to rest? Where is your center?
Once upon a time, a small, new church was divided over who was the most spiritual. "I was converted by Peter himself," said one, "and Peter says..." "Huh, Peter! He's passe, good enough for country folk, I suppose, but if you really want classy preaching, Apollos is the one for me." "That's right, Peter can't even speak decent Greek. He still says dese, dem and dose!" "Well, I think that we should pay more attention to Paul, after all, he's the one who founded this church!" "That pipsqueak! what miracles has he done lately? And have you heard? He's in jail again! How are we going to grow with his reputation around our necks?"
If you asked, these folks would probably say that their center was the church... but they all had different ideas of what made the church. One said that good preaching was the key, another looked to miracles, another to their standing in the community. One was impressed by originality, another by tradition, another by miracles. And all were looking for ways to enhance their own position, their sense of security, of being in the right.
Paul said, "No. Don't do it. You're looking in the wrong places for meaning." And he gives them examples of people - whom they know well - who were looking in the wrong places for meaning. Look back to verse 22: "Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom..."
Remember that the church of Corinth was composed of a few Jews from the local synagogue, but mostly Gentiles. The old city had been destroyed by the Romans about a hundred years before, and the inhabitants of the new city were a mixed lot, refugees, merchants, former slaves, Greeks, Romans, Asians. Many of them were attracted to the church because it offered a new way to bring meaning to the turbulence, the disruption, often the chaos of their lives. But all brought their own cultural baggage to the new church with them. In a sense, they transplanted their old centers into the new context.
The Jews that Paul was talking about were products of a culture that had been longing for generations for a Messiah that would free them from Roman domination. Their hope and expectations led them to look for miraculous signs demonstrating the kind of power that could bring political freedom. Although some had acknowledged Jesus Christ as the Messiah, many still measured the value of the church by the same criteria. They were still centered on miracles. And those who had not turned to Christ still looked for the miraculous defeat of Rome and the political liberation of Judea.
Have you noticed how easy it is to become centered on political solutions?
The Greeks Paul was referring to were probably the Athenians, the same kind of folk he preached to with so little success in Acts 17. Greeks were known all around the Mediterranean world for their education; the higher your economic or social status, the more likely it was that you had Greek slaves to tutor your children. The Greeks had invented a good half dozen philosophical systems that explained the world and how to live in it; there were Stoics, Epicureans, Cynics, and Skeptics. Most were primarily concerned with ethical behavior, which is on the whole a pretty good thing, and they all spend a lot of time explaining in exquisite Greek why each was more plausible than their rivals.
Some of the best people I know are centered on ethical behavior.
Most of us know people like that.
Many of us are tempted to make ethics our center.
My parents believed that the salvation of the world (although they wouldn't have used those exact words) lay in education. They were good people, and they had a point. Education is on the top of our national agenda today for very good reasons. It's worth caring about. But should it be the center? Can it bear the weight of the expectations of the world? Is education enough?
Ethics, education, politics. These are all necessary to our lives, even though politics has a pretty bad reputation nowadays. Since they are necessary, it is good to spend time on them. But when they assume an importance in our lives that eclipses the face of God, they become destroyers.
To the one for whom ethical behavior is all, the cross of Christ is unnecessary. All we have to do to merit the approval of God - is to behave ethically toward one another.
To the one for whom education is the answer, to believe in the cross of Christ is foolish. I was taught that no one with any sense at all could possibly believe that God pays personal attention to one little speck in an infinitely vast universe. Why on earth would God choose to suffer like that, when (as a friend of mine once said) "If God really wanted us to be different, he could change our DNA with a snap of his fingers." And besides - it's the 20th century. It doesn't make sense to follow the same God as people from 2000 years ago. The world has changed too much... or has it?
And to the one who is looking for miraculous deliverance, the cross looks more like defeat than victory.
But the wisdom of the world leads away from God, and to abandon God is to embark on the road to death. Look again to what Paul said in verse 18: ...the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing... Another way to say this is, "those to whom the message of the cross is foolish will perish."
The wisdom of the world is the easiest thing in the world to turn to when the pressures of the world are whirling our lives around faster than we can handle or make sense of. Little things can push us off center, spinning us away into false starts and dead ends. How do we stay centered on Christ? Again, Paul tells us: "...to us who are being saved [the message of the cross] is the power [and the wisdom] of God."
God made us a gift of the Sabbath so that we might rest in him, centered on the very source of life. The season of Lent is also a kind of Sabbath (even though it's a 9th of the year rather than a 7th). It is a time for us to examine our lives, our causes, our priorities and our passions, against the shadow of the cross and in the light of the resurrection. The reflection of Christ shows the world in an entirely different light. {20} ...the wise man, the scholar, the philosopher of this age [become] foolish, the wisdom of the world is seen to be hollow, shallow against the power and beauty of the cross. Our perspective on life changes when we look deeply on Jesus Christ.
What is the message of the cross to you, today, here in this place? On this communion Sunday in Lent, I challenge each of you to invite the Holy Spirit to search your heart for the answer to these questions:
Where do you go for nourishment?
In what hope do you find comfort?
Where is your center?
What gives your life meaning?
Think on these things as we move through the remainder of the service to the time when we share together in the body and blood of Christ.
