Both Sides

1 Corinthians 9:19-23

June 13, 2021 • Mount Pleasant UMC

No one likes a hypocrite. The word “hypocrite” comes from the Greek word for “actor,” someone who wears a mask, and while we might enjoy watching professional actors on a stage or a screen, we typically don’t care for “actors” in real life—people who pretend to be something other than they are or people who tell you one thing and tell someone else another thing. You know the sort of folks I’m talking about. Immediately, politicians often jump to mind. In running for office, far too many people will say whatever they think you want to hear so that they can get your vote. Once in office, promises made are often broken—maybe because way too many promises were made or the promises were insincere to begin with. Either way, no one likes a hypocrite.

At the same time, our culture has a strange fascination with religious hypocrites. We don’t like them any better than “regular hypocrites,” but we’re more interested in them. Sometimes you don’t hear very much about a preacher or religious leader until they get caught doing something they should not have done. I’ve lost track of how many times in my life news has broken about this preacher or that teacher or this Christian singer or that church official who has gotten caught breaking the law or doing something the Bible tells us not to. They were seeing prostitutes or cheating on their spouse. They were embezzling from the church and keeping two sets of books. They broke their marriage vows or they lived a lavish lifestyle while taking money from people who could barely afford food. I got to thinking this week about a book from many years ago. The title was Who You Are When No One Is Looking and the subtitle was, “Choosing Consistency, Resisting Compromise.” The reason I started thinking about it is because the author has since been removed from ministry because of an abusive personality and accusations from women in his church of inappropriate behavior. The book, written originally in 1987, is incredibly ironic now. The religious hypocrite is a mainstay in popular entertainment. I have trouble thinking of a movie or television show, especially a recent one, where the religious person is faithful or honest. Most of the time, especially if they are a pastor, they turn out to have a secret, hidden, hypocritical life.

This morning we’re wrapping up a short series of sermons on “Paul Behaving Badly,” in which we’ve been looking at some of the accusations that are often lobbed at the Apostle Paul. We’ve considered whether or not Paul was a killjoy and also the assumption that Paul was a racist. Today, as we wrap things up, we’re going to look at the accusation of hypocrisy, because if Paul was a hypocrite, if he said one thing and did another, or if he just said what people wanted to hear, then why should we pay any attention to anything he said? That’s the problem with hypocrisy—it invalidates everything that came before. So was Paul a hypocrite?

There are many places in Paul’s letters we could go to explore this, but this morning’s passage is full of what sounds like hypocritical language. Let’s first remember the broader context because the bigger topic Paul is discussing with the Corinthians is freedom—so of course he begins with a discussion of meat. Now, that’s a discussion I can sink my teeth into! (Chuck, where’s my rim shot?) Seriously, though, this was a real dilemma in Corinth. Today, most of us don’t think much about where our meat comes from. Unless you grew up on or currently live on a farm, you may not even think about the chicken or beef you have for dinner. We go to the grocery store or to our freezer, pick out what we want to cook and that’s that. But in the ancient world, of course, there were no refrigerators or freezers or supermarkets. You went down every day to the community meat market and purchased what you wanted to eat that day. And that’s where the problem began because in Corinth, as in other Roman cities, the cow or chicken (or pig for non-Jews) would first be offered as a sacrifice at the local pagan temple. In Corinth, it would probably have been offered as a sacrifice to the god Apollo before being butchered; the pagan temples doubled as butcher’s shops in many cities. The temple then kept a portion of the meat to feed the priests (their version of a tithe) and the rest was sold down at the meat market. So here was the problem for the Jews and the Christians: since the meat was offered as a sacrifice, it “belonged” to the pagan god. So the Corinthian Christians ask Paul: can we eat it? Or is eating it the same as participating in pagan worship?

Like I said, we think very little today about where our meat (or any of our food, for that matter) comes from, but the Corinthians’ question might be a bit like learning that your employer is engaging in unethical practices, things that are against your beliefs and principles as a follower of Jesus. Maybe it’s even something illegal, or at the least it’s something that’s wrong, so the dilemma becomes: by working here, am I participating in my employer’s wrongdoing? That’s the question that tormented these Christians: if we buy meat that has been sacrificed to pagan gods, am I participating in the worship of those gods? And Paul says two things. First of all, those “gods” that are being worshipped are no gods at all. There is only one God, so the meat was sacrificed to nothing. He says that the meat is just meat, so go ahead and cook that steak (well done) and enjoy. But he also says that if doing that will cause someone else to struggle, if they have qualms about eating sacrificed meat, then don’t do it. If what you believe you can do causes someone else to stumble, Paul says we should be willing to give up our own freedom for the sake of someone else. It sort of sounds like Paul is talking out of both sides of his mouth, doesn’t it? “The idols aren’t real, so eat the meat. But if someone else thinks the idols are real, don’t eat the meat.” Which is it, Paul (8:1-13; Richards & O’Brien, Paul Behaving Badly, pg. 149-153)?

That’s the backdrop for what he says in our passage for this morning. He’s talking about freedom, spiritual freedom, and the reality that as believers in Jesus we are not bound by the Old Testament law nor are we subject to the superstition of idol worship. But then he gives a long discourse about just what that freedom means to him, and that’s when he again sounds like he is talking out of both sides of his mouth. Let me read it again: “To the Jews I became like a Jew…To those under the law I became like one under the law…To those not having the law I became like one not having the law…To the weak I became weak…” (9:20-22). Boy, it sure sounds like Paul is one kind of person with one group and another kind of person with another group. It sounds like Paul doesn’t really know who he is; he just becomes like whomever he is around. We call that kind of person a “chameleon,” changing their personality to fit the gathering. And we also call that kind of person a hypocrite. I mean, you can’t be like those under the law AND like those without the law. They’re polar opposites. Pick a side, Paul. Figure out who you want to be.

The important phrase here is “became like,” which in our English translations sounds a lot like Paul changed his behavior whenever he changed groups. It sounds like when he was with Jews, for instance, he would observe the dietary laws and not work on the Sabbath. When he was with Gentiles, he would eat a ham sandwich during his lunch break from making tents on Saturday. When he was around Jews, he would behave one way; when around Gentiles, he behaved another way. But that’s not what Paul is saying. The phrase that is translated “became like” doesn’t refer to behavior. “He does not say that he became an idolator to idolators or an adulterer to adulterers” (Witherington qtd. in Johnson, 1 Corinthians [IVPNTC], pg. 148). No, “became like” refers to the way a person speaks, their rhetorical ability or the way they went about arguing their case. Paul is not saying he changes his lifestyle as he moves about. He’s not providing evidence of hypocrisy. He’s talking about the way he shares about Jesus, the way he argues for people to come to faith in Christ. He doesn’t change his lifestyle; he changes his methods. He says things differently so that people can hear and understand his message (cf. Richards & O’Brien 161-163). He even says in verse 22 that that’s his main purpose: “I have become all things [changed my way of presenting the message] to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.”

You see Paul doing this all throughout the book of Acts. We’ll look more closely at this story this fall, but just consider that when Paul goes to the synagogue, to the place of worship for the Jews, he shares about Jesus and how he is the fulfillment of their history. In Acts 13, we find Paul preaching in a synagogue in Pisidian Antioch. He begins with the story of Moses leading the people out of slavery in Egypt, then talks about Samuel and King David. He calls them “fellow children of Abraham” and shares how Jesus fulfills all of God’s promises to the Jewish people. He tells them about Jesus in language, images and history that they can understand. The same Paul also goes, four chapters later, to Athens, center of Greek culture, the place where people like Socrates and Plato and Aristotle had taught—all those people that very few of us liked to read about in college. In Athens, Paul doesn’t tell stories from Jewish history. Instead, he quotes from Greek poets and literature. He uses a landmark that was marked “To an Unknown God” to tell them about the God of the universe. Same Paul. Same story. Different tactics. That’s what he means when he says he “became like” those he talked with. It’s no hypocrisy; it’s a ministry tactic.

One of the charges often leveled at Christians today is that we are hypocrites. And, in many ways, we have earned that charge. We have lived up to it by worshipping God on Sunday after Sunday but failing to share that message in the way Paul did Monday through Saturday. Research bears out that the average Christian shares their faith about once every 37 years, whether we need to or not! In fact, not only don’t we share our faith but we angrily point fingers at those who do not know Jesus—the Jesus we haven’t shared with them. Do we believe this message enough to pass it on? Tony Campolo once told the story of Charlie Peace, who in 1854 London was sentenced to death by hanging. As he was led to the gallows, a priest followed behind him, repeating the words from his prayer book: “Those who die without Christ experience hell, which is the pain of forever dying without the release which death itself can bring.” Charlie Peace stopped and turned to the priest, asking, “Do you believe that?” The priest stammered, “Well, I supposed I do.” And Charlie Peace said, “Well, I don’t. But if I did, I’d get down on my hands and knees and crawl all over Great Britain, even if it were paved with pieces of broken glass, if I could rescue just one person from what you just told me” (Campolo, Let Me Tell You a Story, pgs. 102-103). Do we believe this message enough to share it no matter what the cost? Paul did. And his example can show us the way out of our own hypocrisy.

Paul learned about the world around him and shared his faith in a way they could understand it. He was always looking for an opportunity to talk about what Jesus means and what Jesus had done for Paul. His fellow apostle, Peter, instructed the followers of Jesus to “always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have” (1 Peter 3:15). How often should we be prepared? Always, Peter says. For Paul, that meant whether he was with Jews or Gentiles, in a synagogue or in the Athenian halls of philosophy. For us, that means whether we’re at the store or the coffee shop, out in the community or at a gathering of family. Always be ready to do what? Give an answer. Share about Jesus. Mention your faith. That doesn’t give us permission to be obnoxious or pushy. In fact, Peter says, “Do this with gentleness and respect” (1 Peter 3:15). Or, if I were to paraphrase that, I might say, “Don’t be the guy screaming at people from the street corner. Get to know someone and share your faith in a way that is natural for both of you.”

It does not take a pastor to invite someone to come to know Jesus. Anyone can do it and everyone should do it. That’s the calling of the church from Jesus himself. It doesn’t take theological training or a deep understanding of the Bible for you to share what Jesus means to you. Sometimes all it takes is learning to ask good questions. I mean, honestly, that’s a lot of what Jesus did. Over 300 times in the four Gospels, Jesus asks a question. He asked good questions, questions that got to the heart of the matter. Some people say Jesus was the greatest question-asker in history. He asked things like, “Why are you so afraid?” “What are you looking for?” “Do you want to get well?” “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus more often asked a question than just telling people what to do because he knew it was more effective in engaging someone (cf. Briggs & Smith, Why Ask Questions?, pgs. 57-63). That’s still true. We ask questions so that we can begin to understand someone else’s world, their point of view. We can’t genuinely talk to someone unless we know where they are coming from (cf. Barclay, The Letters to the Corinthians, pg. 83). For instance, even though I grew up in a rural community, I was not a farmer nor did I live on a farm nor did I belong to the Future Farmers of America like most of my friends. For the earliest part of my life I remained blissfully ignorant of what it took to be a farmer. I knew farmers. I was friends with their kids. But I had no idea what a farming life was like. And then God, in his wisdom, used the Bishop to appoint me to rural Jasper County, to an open country church where most everyone in the congregation at the time were either farmers or used to be farmers. I realized pretty quickly that I did not speak the language of the culture, and so I began to learn. And I learned by asking questions. I learned by showing up on planting day and driving the tractor (probably to this date the most crooked row of corn ever planted). I asked how to do things, why things were done the way they were done, and why the rhythms of weather were so important. I learned to speak the language, not so that I could become a farmer but because I wanted to be able to communicate the Gospel in a way that my world at that time would understand. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my model was Paul.

So, ask good questions in order to learn and then tell your story. A couple of weeks ago, Pastor Rick talked about a line from The Chosen that I love. It really summarizes the way we can tell our story. In fact, let’s take a look at that scene.

What has he done in your life? How has he made you different? Are you more hopeful, more loving, kinder, gentler? Did he give you the strength to defeat an addiction? Has he restored a relationship or renewed your marriage? “I was one way and now I am completely different and the thing that happened in between was Him.” Tell your story. Share what Jesus has done in your life—not just “way back then,” but here and now.

Another thing we do in following Paul’s example is that we adapt our methods without changing the message. Whatever we might think about it, the world is not the same as it was ten, twenty, thirty years ago. It’s just not. Some things have improved for the better and, arguably, some things have not. It’s hard to imagine going back to a time when we didn’t have a microwave in our kitchens. And we may complain about the way technology has intruded into our lives, but we also appreciate the convenience of having a phone with us, being able to live stream our services for those times when we can’t be here, being able to see grandkids and friends over a video call. Lots of other improvements that most of us would never give up. But when it comes to faith, we want everything to stay the same. But it can’t. The standard definition of insanity is to keep doing what you’ve always done while expecting different results. That doesn’t work. We have to continually find new ways to share the good news without compromising the message. That’s not playing both sides; that’s being good ambassadors of Jesus in a constantly changing world. So we use different music to communicate the message these days than we did when I was growing up. We use newer translations of the Bible that reflect the current ways we use language so that the message can be heard. We might even jump into places where we wish we didn’t have to go (like social media) in order to echo Paul: “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel” (9:22-23).

Another means of sharing faith is through practical acts of service. Serving others never replaces words; often it is a prelude to verbally sharing our faith. We reach out and meet needs in the name of Jesus. And we do that in response to the times we live in. For instance, last year when COVID hit, a whole bunch of you stepped up to help deliver meals to special needs students who couldn’t get out to pick them up. We worked in connection with the school corporation and a lot of other churches and volunteers to get meals to students who otherwise might not have had food during the day, all with the love of Jesus. In a few weeks, we have a group going to Birmingham, Alabama to learn about racial justice and to serve those in need there. We will serve because of the love of Jesus. You support missionaries in this area and all around the world who are meeting needs in practical ways in the love and name of Jesus. Deb Williams just returned again from Haiti, where your support enables a school to meet the needs of students in the area who otherwise might not have an education and might not hear the name of Jesus. Do you get the picture? I know it’s also true that in a thousand ways each and every day, this congregation serves people around them. I see you, taking care of loved ones who are in need, sharing a cup of cold water with someone in need, lending a listening ear to the lonely person at the nursing home (and in some of those places, you can actually go visit again!), helping the single mom out by offering to babysit, caring about a teenager’s broken heart. In these and countless other ways, we “become all things to all people” and share the good news in appropriate and powerful ways. “I do all this,” Paul says, “for the same of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings” (9:23).

All of this can happen, Paul says, because he is “free in Christ.” So what does he mean by that? Because, obviously, he doesn’t mean he is free to do whatever he likes. Freedom was an important idea for the Corinthians. As a Roman colony, they had “freedom” that some other cities did not have. For instance, they could vote and elect their own city officials. They could own their property and initiate lawsuits. And they maintained a great deal of their own cultural identity (Johnson 15). They were a Roman city with a Greek character. And the church that grew there inherited that same desire for freedom, so again, it’s no mistake that Paul uses that language when he writes to the Corinthians. He is free, he says, but he has willingly chosen to become a “slave to everyone” (9:19)—and notice the reason again. It’s Paul’s reason for everything he does: “to win as many as possible” (9:19). Christian scholar N. T. Wright puts it this way: “Christian freedom is not freedom to do what you like, but freedom from all the things that stop you from being the person God really wants you to be, which is freedom for the service of God and the gospel” (Wright 114). What does it mean to be “free” in Christ? It means we have willingly bound ourselves to him and to his people. As one author puts it, “We need to be free to love everyone God loves” (Chafin, Communicator’s Commentary: 1, 2 Corinthians, pg. 117). All for the sake of the Gospel.

It was the 1990’s and Billy Graham was continuing to preach and reach thousands for the Gospel, but he realized he wasn’t reaching young people. He had heard of this Christian rap group, DC Talk, that was filling concert halls everywhere and he decided he wanted to get them to sing at his crusade. His advisors and friends told him he was crazy; there was no way people would put up with “that music” at a Billy Graham crusade. But Dr. Graham insisted, telling his team, “When I go to a foreign country, I use an interpreter. These guys are my interpreter to the youth.” So DC Talk and Michael W. Smith joined Billy Graham in Cleveland, thousands of people showed up—a sold out crowd—and when Dr. Graham preached, he even used some of their lyrics as a part of his sermon. Lives were changed that night because Billy Graham was willing to use different language to reach a new audience (cf. Moser, We Will Stand, pgs. 171-172). He didn’t change his message, just his method. “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings” (9:22-23). Paul was not a hypocrite. He was just wise in the way he advanced the good news of Jesus Christ. May that be said of all of us as well. Let’s pray.