Gather Round the Table

Philippians 3:1-7

June 6, 2021 • Mount Pleasant UMC

One of the best memories I have from growing up is gathering around the dinner table. Most evenings, at least the way I remember it, we sat down as a family to eat a meal mom or dad had cooked, and we ate together. I can’t really tell you what we might have talked about at that table, but looking back, to me that was holy ground. Those moments were precious, even though my brother and I didn’t really think so at the time. We do now, on those rare times like Memorial Day when we get to gather around that table again. As my kids grew up, we weren’t nearly as consistent at all sitting down and having dinner together. It seems there were always things that got in the way—soccer practice, dance rehearsals, church meetings. I loved it when we could gather, but it didn’t happen near enough and now, well—Barnabas would really like it if we would make him a seat at the table.

There is something about gathering around the table, the dinner table, the family table, that tells you you’re welcome, you’re included, you’re family. It matters who is welcome and who is not. It matters who is included and who is not. And if that’s true at the dinner table, it’s also true in the broader world. Today we live in a world where differences define and differences divide. We live in a world where we don’t want to associate with “those people.” We draw lines and we keep people out based on their politics, their religion, their morals, their values, and their skin color. Red and yellow, black and white, they may be precious in his sight, but that doesn’t mean we have to welcome “them” to our table. Does it?

This morning, we’re continuing our short series called “Paul Behaving Badly.” Last week, we asked the question of whether or not Paul was a killjoy, whether he just wanted to take away all our fun. This week, we’re going to go a bit deeper as we tackle an even more serious part of Paul’s reputation, one that is perhaps even more divisive. Some think I’m crazy to even tackle the topic—but I want to know: was Paul racist?

There are times when Paul sort of sounds like that odd uncle who says things that make everyone uncomfortable at the Thanksgiving dinner table. You know the one. Let me give you just a few examples (from Paul, not your uncle). Let’s call this “Insensitive Things Paul Said And Dared to Put in Writing.” Now, to be fair, this first one is not something Paul directly said; rather, he’s quoting someone—but when you quote someone, it tends to be something that you believe or at least affirm. To Titus, Paul writes this: “One of Crete’s own prophets has said it: ‘Cretans are always liars, evil brutes, lazy gluttons.’ This saying is true” (Titus 1:13-14). Wow. By the way, Titus is in Crete when he received this letter. Can you imagine reading that out loud in church? Moving to the Galatians, Paul calls them “foolish” (Galatians 3:1), which in English doesn’t sound so bad—until you consider the context. “Foolish” in those days was the equivalent of calling someone “stupid” or a “simpleton.” Today they might be known as “rednecks” or “hillbillies” or “white trash.” To be “foolish” in Roman culture meant you were uncultured, not welcome, not wanted. The Galatians weren’t Roman and didn’t speak Greek.  They were the people no one wanted; they were “foolish” (Richards & O’Brien, Paul Behaving Badly, pgs. 58-59). 

Now, Paul was a Roman citizen but he was also a Jew, and ironically he saves some of his worst insults for his own people. He often talks about the way he and others suffered at the hands of “the Jews,” and how they killed Jesus and the prophets “and also drove us out. They displease God and are hostile to everyone” (1 Thessalonians 2:15). To the Romans he quotes Isaiah, describing Israel as “disobedient and obstinate” (Romans 10:21). And in the passage we read this morning, he calls them “dogs…evildoers…mutilators of the flesh” (3:2). And when he calls them “dogs” he’s not thinking about cute little puppies like Barnabas. (Yes, that’s twice I’ve worked him into this sermon.) They were not pets or members of the family. In Paul’s world, dogs were, as one commentator put it, “zoological low life, scavengers that were generally detested by Greco-Roman society and considered unclean by Jews” (Fee, Philippians, pg. 132). They were often vicious and would attack passersby as they roamed the streets (Kent, “Philippians,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 11, pg. 138). Jews used the term “dogs” to talk about Gentiles. Now Paul is using it to describe them. It certainly sounds like Paul has some racism he needs to work out.

       And before we go any further, I think it’s also important to acknowledge how Paul’s writing has been used in our own history to further racist ideas, particularly the way he writes about slavery. It is true that Paul gives directions for how slaves are to be treated. He also talks about how slaves were to treat their masters. And so, particularly in the early days of our country, Paul’s writings were used to justify slavery and to try to keep slaves “in their place.” It was said that since the Bible talks about slavery, it must be acceptable (cf. Tisby, The Color of Compromise, pgs. 80-87). Such a message was even preached from the pulpits. In fact, the Methodist church split over the issue of slavery, spending the entire 1844 General Conference meeting debating the ethics of Bishops owning slaves. If we think our current debates over human sexuality are tense, imagine talking about one particular Bishop’s lifestyle for the whole Conference. When the antislavery advocates carried the day, Bishop James Andrew and his allies split from the church to form the Methodist Episcopal Church South (Tisby 76-77). The north and south churches did not come back together until 1939—74 years after the end of the Civil War—a division rooted in what people believed Paul had said.

For a long time, and especially in the last year, there has been a wide cultural discussion about racism: individual racism, systemic racism, cultural racism, ecclesiastical (or church-based) racism. We have heard terms like overt racism and privilege and microaggressions. For some of us, a lot of these terms were or are new; we simply hadn’t thought about them before. For a long time, racism itself wasn’t something many of us thought a lot about. And then came Ferguson. Even though that as almost 7 years ago, the name still resonates. An anger that had been beneath the surface began to bubble and boil over at times, but it simmered back down after a while. Until George Floyd. Then the anger exploded. In communities across the nation and even around the world, we began to hear more and more conversations about race and identity and hatred and anger. And I’m not here to debate or discuss the politics of any of that this morning. What I hope to do in the next few minutes is to help us think theologically about it and to listen to what Paul says about it. Are we going to have a solution to racism in these next few minutes? I doubt it. But I do hope we understand that it is our responsibility to take our growth in Christ seriously and that we cannot truly grow to be more like Jesus until and unless we honestly face the racism in our own hearts. The question, “Was Paul a racist?” gives a framework for a bigger question, “Am I?”

So, a definition. Racism is “the belief that some races or ethnicities are superior to others. A comment is racist, whether it is complimentary or derogatory, if it is made about someone and attributed to them because of their race” (Richards & O’Brien 58). So several of the things we read from Paul this morning certainly sound as if they fall into that category, but the problem comes when we rip these verses out of their context and out of their historical context. Now, I’ve been told that I include too much historical context, but the Bible was not written to twenty-first century Christians. In these cases, Paul was writing to people in Asia Minor and the Middle East in the first century. The cultures are not the same. For instance, do you know why Cretans were called liars? It was because they denied that Zeus, the chief Greek god, was immortal. Paul is making a jab at their religious beliefs, and he doesn’t want these new Cretan Christians to just equate their former beliefs with their new one. “Rebuke them sharply,” Paul tells Titus, “so that they will be sound in the faith” (Titus 1:13). What sounds to us like a racial slur is actually an instruction to them to remain on the true path (cf. Richards & O’Brien 68). In the same letter where he calls the Jews “disobedient and obstinate,” Paul also says that “all Israel will be saved” (Romans 11:26). His heart breaks for his people; they are “disobedient” because they have refused to follow Jesus, which is all he wants for them anyway (cf. Romans 9:1-5). He asks, “Did God reject his people? By no means!” (Romans 11:1). Paul loved his own people and longed for them to love Jesus.

But what about this “dog” comment we read this morning? His comment here is not directed at the whole Jewish race. He is aiming at a small group who were known as the “Judaizers.” These folks, who were apparently bothering the Philippian church, believed that in order to become a Christian you had to become a Jew first, and that included circumcision for the men. As you can imagine, an adult male coming to know Jesus would not be too excited about that idea! As far as Paul was concerned, the Judaizers were “mutilators,” instating on an unnecessary procedure. They were “dogs,” waiting to attack the unsuspecting. Paul believed, along with the rest of the early church leadership, that Jesus was available to all, and that uncircumcised Gentile believers were not second-class Christians. Paul is criticizing a small group of rabble rousers, not his whole race. In fact, he goes overboard in identifying with his own people. He pulls out his Jewish credentials: “Circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless” (3:4-6). Say what you want about Paul, he was not ashamed of his Jewishness, though he was not happy with the way some of his people were treating his bothers and sisters in Christ.

When we read Paul as a racist, we are misunderstanding his culture and what he is trying to say. I’m not saying he didn’t have any bias because we all do; we learn it early on and it’s a hard thing to overcome. However, I believe that if Paul were writing in today’s world, there’s a lot of things he would say differently. Just as he did then, if he were writing today Paul would find culturally effective and relevant ways to preach the good news and to combat the racism inherent in our world. Now, Paul’s mind was much more brilliant than mine is, so I wouldn’t want to guess how he might go about that. All I can do it tell you some of the paths I have been walking in the last year to try to overcome my own biases and racism. Maybe some of this will also be helpful to you. First of all, in the wake of the George Floyd killing last year, I began to study and to read a lot, to try to understand. It’s sort of my “default” as an introvert and as a pastor. If I’m going to be able to lead, I have to understand. So I have engaged a lot this least year with books and with Scripture, seeking to first of all understand the trajectory of Scripture. I remember Dr. David Thompson talking about this way back when I was at Asbury, that although the Scripture does talk about slavery without outlawing it, the overall trajectory of Scripture points away from slavery as being a good thing. Just one example is the letter to Philemon, where Paul doesn’t “order” Philemon to free his slave (though he says he could), but he strongly suggests it (cf. Philemon 8-9). So I’ve read Scripture and books that help me understand the racism I am often unaware of. A couple of good books I recommend to people, just because they are so practical and because they are Biblically grounded, is How to Fight Racism by Jemar Tisby and When We Stand by Terence Lester. When We Stand is where I first read about the “Love Sinks In” campaign that I shared a couple of weeks ago. There are other good books, but I found these two are a couple of the most accessible. So I begin with study, seeking understanding.

As we gain understanding (not “when” because we should always be learning), we begin to move toward those who are “different” than we are. That might be someone of another skin color or another faith or another nationality. Preferably, we should move toward someone we would normally avoid—for whatever reason. Singer Michael Card tells about his frustration pursuing racial reconciliation in his city. They couldn’t seem to make any ground in getting people from different groups together, so he decided if “they” wouldn’t come to things that were planned, he would go to “them.” So one Sunday morning he went to a black church, and when he walked in, one elderly woman asked him, “Why are you here?” It was obvious he didn’t fit, but he was friends with the pastor and when he told her that, she was satisfied. During the service, he shared a pew with Dinah, a woman who he later learned had raised over 75 foster kids in her time. But that day, as the sermon began, Dinah reached over and took his hand. She held it for the rest of the service. Card says he assumed it was just something they did in their church, but then he looked around and didn’t see anyone else holding hands. It was awkward and uncomfortable—until he realized that Dinah was simply doing what she always did. Here’s how he describes it: “She had adopted me, had opened the door of her life to me…I had done absolutely nothing to deserve her kindness. I had simply shown up with all my mixed motives. But she reached out to me and took my hand…I had no right to expect anything from her that morning. Not a welcome or a greeting, and certainly not an affectionate holding of my hand. But if she didn’t love me, who else was going to?” (Inexpressible, pgs. 59-61). We move toward those who are unlike us.

The Bible says all people are made in God’s image (cf. Genesis 1:26). It doesn’t say only some people, or only people we like, or only people who are like us. All humankind is made in the image of God, and therefore there is no reason to treat anyone differently. All are created in God’s image. And that’s true for all people, whether they know it or acknowledge it or not, but it’s especially true for those who are part of the body of Christ. Paul put it this way: “In Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise” (Galatians 3:26-29). He’s not saying our differences are unimportant; it’s just that the differences are not as important as we usually make them out to be. Our differences do not cancel out our unity and our oneness in Christ. No matter who we are or who “they” are, we are united because of Jesus Christ. And because of that, we can gather around the same table.

I believe it breaks the heart of God to see how divided we are in the body of Christ. I also believe it doesn't break out hearts nearly enough. Now, I get it, that different people worship different ways, but I’m not even talking about our physical separation. It’s the fact that, for the most part, we don’t even want to or try to be together. We have become comfortable with and even like our separation. Division was not the way of the early church, nor was it Jesus’ desire. I’ve said it before: there is a prayer Jesus prayed that has not yet been answered: that we would be one (cf. John 17:21). Many churches, including white and black and other ethnic groups, were divided because one group or another was not welcome. In some cases, “they” were told to leave. Don’t you believe that breaks God’s heart? The bigger question is: why doesn’t it break ours more?

A couple of weeks ago, I shared about an event happening this month. In fact, it’ll be on June 18 in the evening over at New Haven of Hope Church. Torchhouse is hosting a couple of folks from Kalamazoo who work with an organization called Civil Righteousness. Civil Righteousness was started in the wake of the 2014 riots in Ferguson, and in fact when the riots were happening, the police would call this group to come over and pray to help quiet things down. They are still based in Ferguson, but the folks from Kalamazoo have made this ministry their own with over 50 churches who have banded together, across denominational and color lines, in order to show the city the love of Jesus. So they will be here on the 18th at 6 p.m. to share a bit about the hope of their ministry and how we could see that same kind of unity come about here in Terre Haute and Vigo County. That time of worship and sharing is actually kicking off 24 hours of worship and prayer, so you can stay all night if you want to! More information is on Facebook on the Torchhouse page, so you can check that out. But it’s perhaps the beginnings of more justice and unity coming to this city, something the pastors have been praying for and working toward for a long time. Even if you can’t participate, please keep this in your prayers. The event is not an end in itself; it’s meant to be a spark, a beginning, a chance for the body of Christ to gather round the table and be who Jesus calls us to be.

As I said, I have always loved gathering around the dinner table—not just for the food, but for the fellowship, the relationships, the chance to draw closer to other human beings. And for as long as I can remember, I have also loved gathering around another table—the Lord’s table, in the act we call holy communion. I love that in our tradition, everyone is welcome at the table, from the youngest to the oldest, all colors, all nationalities, all denominations, rich and poor and everything in between. Because at this table, everyone is welcome and everyone is loved the same by the one who is the host. Around the original table, there were Galileans, fishermen, people from cities and from the country, at least one person from another region, people with varying political agendas and beliefs, people who didn’t always like each other that much. What brought them all together and often the only thing keeping them together was the host. While he was a Jew, he came for all. He is the hope of the world and though they didn’t know it yet that night, he was about to give his life for the sake of all. He is the one who brings us together, the one who should bring us all together around the table. As we gather, I can’t help but think of an old Sunday School song that, though simple in its theology and melody, could not be truer:

Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world!

Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight,

Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Let’s gather round the table and celebrate the savior who loves us all.