Alexander Campbell Scholarship Essay

Topic:  1 Corinthians 9:22, “All Things to All People”

 By:  Adam L. Bean

Paul’s Accommodating Philosophy

            In the ninth chapter of First Corinthians, Paul discusses his rights as an apostle and his willingness to lay these rights down.  “Though I am free from all,” he writes in v. 19, “I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win more of them” (ESV).  The verses that follow illustrate a central component of Paul’s ministry approach: he places the concerns, consciences, and cultural backgrounds of those he seeks to minister to above his own rights and personal preferences.  Motivated by a desire to “win” (kerdaino) as many as possible, Paul presents a model of ministry that is self-sacrificing with regard to Christian freedom and adaptive toward diverse cultural situations.  The crux comes in v. 22b: “I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some” (ESV).  The way that Paul lived out this lofty statement is illustrated in the immediate context of 1 Corinthians 9 and in numerous examples from Paul’s life and ministry.

            The examples Paul gives in 1 Cor 9:20-22 represent some of the most significant divisions of people and ideas that Paul deals with throughout his letters.  He mentions the Jews, those under the law, those outside the law, and the weak.  Paul claims that he adapted himself to the sensitivities of each of these groups in order to minister to them.  With the Jews, Paul likely drew on his own Jewish background to show sensitivity to their customs, even when he no longer felt obligated to do so as a Christian.  In the same way, with those who did not live under the law he also adjusted his behavior, rather than seeking to impose full Torah obedience on them.  Perhaps to prevent the appearance of total antinomianism, Paul quickly qualifies this statement by saying that he is in fact “under the law of Christ” (ennomos Christou).  With the weak—those in chapter 8 who did not eat meat offered to idols—Paul also claims to have adapted himself, rather than cause them to stumble.

            Throughout Paul’s letters, similar principles of accommodation appear frequently.  In Rom 15:1, Paul placed the burden upon “the strong” to bear the shortcomings of “the weak.”  Though personally convinced that no food or drink was unclean (Rom 14:20), he taught that anyone who did not feel the same way should obey his or her own conscience.  Paul’s discussion of marriage and celibacy in 1 Corinthians 7 provides another example; although he saw value in celibacy, he did not force it upon everyone.  On the other hand, Paul’s letters also show that he was not a total relativist; his criticisms and rebukes are often quite stinging (cf. 1 Corinthians 5 concerning sexual immorality in the Corinthian church).  Paul was firm and devoted to what he saw as the essential message of Christ, but accommodating where cultural differences or matters of opinion threatened to divide the church.

Being All to All in the Modern Context

            Applying Paul’s principle of being “all things to all people” to modern life with precision presents difficulties.  Two millennia of Christian history and the resulting plethora of theological and denominational divisions have significantly complicated life in the global Christian community.  The major conflicts within the church in Paul’s day—primarily Jewish and Gentile relations—no longer remain central, but numerous other debates have taken their place.  A popular slogan in the Stone-Campbell Restoration Movement said, “In essentials unity, in nonessentials liberty, in all things love.”  While the principle of this statement is sound, the Stone-Campbell Movement’s history effectively illustrates the difficulty of even agreeing on what should be considered essential.  These complexities and difficulties, however, do not invalidate Paul’s approach.  On the contrary, the modern reality of division in Christianity makes Paul’s ministry philosophy from 1 Cor 9:22 all the more necessary.  Therefore, such attitudes of accommodation, humility, and flexibility should not be neglected.  My personal experiences have shown me three important areas where these attitudes are needed: cross-cultural adaptations, inter-denominational relationships, and academic interactions.

Cross-Cultural Adaptations

            Foreign missionaries often utilize this philosophy to communicate the gospel.  When seeking to reach a new ethnic group, the burden is on the missionary to learn the language, customs, and history of the people.  Failure to adapt to social and cultural norms will often hinder any possibility of communicating Christ in that setting.  While visiting Christian Churches in Lahore, Pakistan in 2004, I witnessed the importance of adopting to cultural norms.  Because of the Islamic culture that surrounded them, the Christians there had customs that were foreign to Westerners (e.g., shoes were not worn in church, the Bible was never to be set on the ground, and women sat separated from men during worship).  It was our responsibility to conform to these customs, even if they seemed insignificant to us.  Because we put their consciences before our own, we participated in meaningful worship and fellowship together.  This might not have been the case if we had insisted on our “Christian rights.”

Inter-Denominational Relationships

            I also see ways in which the same principles apply domestically.  Although I have grown up as a member of the Independent Christian Church, I have not kept myself safely hidden away within the brotherhood, never daring to interact with people of other perspectives.  Throughout my life I have been intentional about meeting, interacting with, and even worshiping with Christians from other backgrounds.  From these interactions I have learned much about other faith perspectives, as well as my own background.  On several occasions, opportunities arose to speak in churches of other denominations as a result of friendships that I had formed.  This involvement beyond the Restoration Movement gave me a great appreciation for the Restoration heritage, but also caused me to evaluate it critically at times.  The early unifying efforts of B. W. Stone and the Campbells have greatly inspired me.  When I look at the Restoration Movement today, however, my sentiment is considerably less bright.  I fear that we may have forsaken an earnest plea for unity in favor of an idealistic pursuit of doctrinal purity.  I do not advocate or practice the total dissolution of personal conviction for the sake of unity, but I strongly believe in the need for commitment to openness and interaction between Christians.

Academic Interactions

            Paul’s philosophy of ministry also makes its way into the sphere of academics.  In recent years, through undergraduate education and personal study, I have been exposed to a multitude of new and diverse perspectives on matters of faith.  These differing perspectives have challenged me in positive ways, but sorting through them has often been overwhelming.  In spite of these challenges, I have resolved to remain open and ready to listen to other points of view.  I see this as another way in which I can strive to be all things to all people.  While this issue is quite different from the cultural adaptations Paul spoke to, the same self-sacrificing philosophy can and should inform the way Christians study and exchange ideas.  Larry W. Hurtado, at a university address in Edinburgh, Scotland, presented this insightful statement: “The aim of the scholar need not be some sort of cold detachment from human life; instead, what is necessary is a commitment to fairness toward those ideas, judgements [sic] and beliefs we may not share, and a cultivated critical consideration of those which we do share or find congenial.”[1]  This motto for scholarship harmonizes very well with Paul’s ministry philosophy; even scholars must practice humility and accommodation as they work within a multitude of perspectives and opinions.  As I begin graduate level education, my aim is to meet the perspectives I encounter with an open mind and a willingness to listen while thinking critically and honestly.  This does not mean I empty myself of all belief or detach myself from life.  Instead, I commit myself to fairness toward perspectives different than my own.

Conclusion

            In 1 Cor 9:22 we see that Paul’s accommodating philosophy of ministry allowed him to interact with Christians of varied perspectives.  He continually adapted himself to build up the faith of others, without sacrificing what he thought to be the essential truth of the Gospel.  My own experiences in Christian life and ministry have caused me to reflect on this philosophy a great deal.  On soil foreign or domestic, in the church or the academy, I see the need for a spirit of humility and adaptability.  Paul’s words in 1 Cor 9:22 inform my philosophy of ministry by compelling me to push beyond my comfort zones and to ignore the normal boundaries that divide people.  Personal experience has also taught me that being all things to all people is not an easy task in today’s divided church.  I often feel perpetually caught in the middle, being pulled in any number of different directions by people of diverse perspectives.  Nevertheless, I am persuaded to continue being stretched in life and ministry, to refuse to take asylum in the safety of my own heritage—regardless of how much I cherish it—and to give every person or perspective I encounter a fair hearing.  My hope is that through this struggle I will take part in mutually edifying fellowship with Christians from all over the world, and, most of all, save some.

In the absence of an original, newly composed post--which will simply have to wait until classes are finished--I offer the following manuscript for review.

A HOMILY ON THE SUBJECT OF COMMUNITY

GIVEN FOR THE CELEBRATION OF HOLY EUCHARIST, A LITURGY FOR THE PROCLAMATION OF THE WORD OF GOD AND CELEBRATION OF THE HOLY COMMUNION, OLD MAIN CHAPEL, JOHNSON BIBLE COLLEGE, 4/19/2007.

    Tonight’s service has been given the theme of community.  It may occur to you that this theme is perhaps not the most theological, nor is it necessarily even distinctly Christian.  It occurs to me that this topic may be heard quite differently by each one of us.  Perhaps, at the sound of the word ‘community’ in a church context, your thoughts turn sour at the remembrance of negative experiences within your own Christian “communities.”  Perhaps memories are evoked in your jaded mind of superficiality, cliquishness, prejudice, exclusivity, dishonesty, or duplicity.  Perhaps you recall churches that in no way resembled a body, or discipleship groups that did no such thing as disciple, or high school youth groups whose depth and authenticity could scarcely rival the cheer-leading squad.  Perhaps you have prayed without answer for genuine friends with whom you could share your deepest spiritual thoughts.  Whatever might the reason be, I understand that you may indeed carry a rather pessimistic appraisal of the prospect of community within Christianity.  Likewise, I recognize that some of you may feel quite the opposite about the subject.  Perhaps some of you have been in churches that functioned as a healthy, loving, and supporting family; or perhaps you’ve taken part in small groups that were marvelously deep and transparent; or maybe you’ve had wonderful companions throughout your life who gave you not only a source of laughter and joy but also one of challenge, motivation, and model character.  Whatever our sitz im leben in regards to community might be, we must hear the same message tonight.  After all, we have come to take communion, or The Eucharist, together, have we not?  This itself is an intentional act of community, to some extent.

            This eve I exhort all listeners to remember these:  We must love community a great deal; we must not love community too much.  What do I mean by this?  I mean, first, that community—relational connectedness, sense of belonging, fellowship, brotherly and sisterly love—is something to desire, to seek out, to cherish, to preserve.  Community does matter, a great deal in fact.  However, at times community can fail us, at times it can be made to serve evil purposes, and at times community—as well as the security, belonging, and acceptance that goes with it—must be abandoned for the solitary  pursuit of what is good and right.  Most often community itself is not an absolute purpose.  The purpose of Christianity could not be so narrowly defined as “to create community.”  Yet, community is essential to the great purposes of Christianity.  The creation and practice of good community is a worthy ambition for all of us.

            Let us revisit our epistle reading (Ephesians 4.1-16) from a moment ago.  Here we read Paul expounding on what he calls the “unity of the spirit.”  The body he describes is one marked by what it has in common—one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all—as well as what makes it diverse—individuals all gifted and enabled differently to the pursuit of different tasks and roles.  The combination of this common bond with the diversity of abilities accomplishes the “equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ.”  Notice also the attitudes Paul pleads for: humility, gentleness, patience, tolerance, love.  In this passage we find an inspiring apostolic perspective on the very earliest examples of Christian community.  Paul wrote to and traveled among small, tightly knit Christian communities all over the Mediterranean world.  This passage demonstrates not only principles for conduct within these individual bodies, but also a vision of greater unity within the one body that is the church of Jesus.  We know by examples within the New Testament and without that this broader unity was not always accomplished, despite that Christ himself prayed for his believers to be one (John 17).  Yet we also know from the New Testament writings that strong communities were formed, and unifying efforts like those of Paul brought believing Jews and Gentiles together in Christ.  As heirs of the Restoration Movement heritage, we inherit also a vision and desire for this kind of global unity; though we have tasted it only in small traces. 

            If global Christian unity remains out of our reach, we can still make it our goal to foster good community over that corner of the world which lies within our reach.  For us that probably means Johnson Bible College, our dormitory wing, or our primary circle of friends.  We are frequent to call this place “the bubble”—so doing in the valid interest of promoting involvement beyond this community—but if in this tendency we neglect and make light of our duty to promote genuine Christian community on this campus then we have erred greatly.  We must recognize that the bubble is a body.  If we are not earnest about our ethical responsibility to learn and practice Christian community here in this place, where our primary ministry is preparation, then we are already failing to prepare ourselves to lead other Christian communities.  On the other hand, if the only thing we demonstrate any concern for while here is having a “social life” we have either “loved community too much” or misunderstood some aspects of it entirely—probably both.  If we our clear on our obligation toward and need for community in this context, then let us reflect on three aspects of community that expound upon the spirit of our Ephesian text.  These are the three principles I propose to you: (1) community is founded on commonality; (2) community is tested by, but also strengthened through, diversity; (3) community is sustained through cooperation.

            First that community is founded on commonality.  What brings us together is fundamentally that which we have in common.  For Christian community that is first and foremost Christ and our common faith in him.  In Scripture he is called the author and perfector of our faith, our cornerstone, our solid ground, the head of that body which we all form.  As many as have him in common also have in common the purposes of worshiping him as Lord, sharing him with humanity, and living lives of discipleship to him.  Not only is it he that we have primarily in common, by him personally we learn what is necessary for Christian community.  Perhaps at this point is only appropriate that we visit the thoughts of Dietrich Bonhoeffer from his classic Life Together.  I quote him at length:

God Himself has undertaken to teach brotherly love; all that men can add to it is to remember this divine instruction and the admonition to excel in it more and more.  When God was merciful, when He revealed Jesus Christ to us as our Brother, when He won our hearts by His love, this was the beginning of our instruction in divine love.  When God was merciful to us, we learned to be merciful with our brethren.  When we received forgiveness instead of judgment, we, too, were made ready to forgive our brethren.  What god did to us, we then owed to others.  The more we received, the more we were able to give; and the more meager our brotherly love, the less were we living by God’s mercy and love.  Thus God Himself taught us to meet one another as God has met us in Christ.

We are reminded here from Bonhoeffer that Christ, our common bond of community, is also our first teacher of community.  To create community based on the common lordship of Christ, we emulate his love, mercy, and forgiveness as we seek to welcome others as Christ has welcomed us.

            Second, that community is both tested and strengthened by diversity.  Our Ephesian text told us that God appointed different roles and tasks within the one body.  With each of these different positions we can infer different focuses and priorities as well.  This campus has similar diversity in giftedness and ambition, represented in part by our differing ministry programs.  Beyond the more harmless diversity of roles, diversity of opinion and perspective is also a reality in any community.  The way that members respond to this diversity says much about that community itself.  Response to divergent opinions in the New Testament is varied.  Paul’s approach to the strong and weak—groups whose consciences differed on the subject of meat and idol worship—was inclusive and arguably relativistic.  In another situations—where members’ conduct demonstrated a serious ethical breech or their theological position supplanted Christ’s foundational position in the faith—Paul advocated rather stern severing of bonds between the diverging member and rest of the community.  We too must make decisions about where to divide on these issues; though we ought to do so with a great recognition of the historical background out of which we all come to faith in Christ.  The fact that exegetical decisions made 400 years ago can be the only dividing factor between believers today who would otherwise have “all things in common” is lamentable.  We often look to Scripture and take our example for how to deal with other Christians from the conduct of the Apostles or Christ himself against the Jewish leaders or Roman authorities.  This is arrogant and wrong; it fails to recognize that in theological conflicts we encounter today, usually both sides are Christian.  If everyone so presumptuously takes it upon themselves to play the part of apostles and condemn the teachers of law, they mock the faith of their brothers and sisters as well as many who have come before them.

            This leads to the last point:  that community is sustained through cooperation.  A community emerges by what is held in common, but how it handles diversity determines its fate.  All divergent visions, personalities, or opinions can be crushed and pushed out, it is true, but this is hardly the best solution.  The best path lies in cooperation; mutual respect and free expression, leading to accommodation and adaptation whenever possible.  This is not to say a Christian community ought have no bounds.  The earliest churches did, and so should we.  But as participants in communities which bear the name of Christ, we ought to take seriously the attitudes with which we handle those both within and without these boundaries.  This is of particular importance here at our school.  While the colleges primary constituency fits a rather precise mold, the student body is more diverse, culturally and theologically.  We must think carefully about how we handle that situation. 

            Diversity within Christianity is not going away any time soon.  The elimination of diversity is not the goal in seeking unity and community.  Rather, the goal of Christian community in a 3^rd millennium of the church is sharing faith without demanding identicality.  Personally, there are many Christian perspectives that I certainly do not share:  I am by no means fundamentalist, or charismatic, or reformed; I’m not even that conservative (or evangelical).  But I love people who are; and I hope the opposite is true as well.  Let us gather these thoughts together to conclude.  Remember the important, but not supreme, place that community has in our purposes.  Remember to love community a great deal, but not too much.  Remember that community is founded on commonality, tested by, but also strengthened through, diversity, and sustained through cooperation.  Remember just what it is we have in common: namely, Jesus Christ, who first taught us the love and mercy by which we live.  Remember to welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, particularly now as we take the Eucharist together.

Adagio Sostenuoto

Some days wander on toward their final hour for no other reason than that they must.  Their hours come and go carelessly as the clocks tick just to hear themselves speak.  On such a day, the time punched into the alarm clock the night before didn’t really matter much, nor did the minutes that hazily passed by after each of four snooze-button enabled extensions to the night.  Perhaps there were appointments to keep and tasks to complete, but not many.  There might have been deadlines in view, but their remoteness was in that awkward place too distant to compel urgency of action but just near enough to steal any carefree mood from the hour.  On such a day no great plans are made, no mountains are climbed, and no great joy is felt. 

On such a day, the question shifts from what must be done, to what could be done.  The latter is often far more troubling.  Such a time is like dead air, an awkward silence in life where the quietness becomes the most deafening thing of all.  Silence, when sought, coveted, or greedily taken is beautiful and welcome to most.  When it arrives uninvited, however, the congeniality hardly remains. 

Such a day may be just the occasion to do things small in significance but great in value.  Perhaps such little things can do much to redeem the day.  To organize a drawer, to neatly fold some laundry, or to take just one good picture.  Maybe to see the full moon in the sky, to breath the cold air of a night when winter chills linger still, but lack the sting of days past.  To look at the stars, disregarding knowledge and understanding to see only what the ancients did:  mysterious lights in the heavens that sometimes fall.  To  pray something beautiful and believable, or to write something worth reading again some day.  To do such as these things can go far to redeem such a day. 

Shouldn’t there be more to do?  To love, and be loved?  To find something around which clarity of thought and depth of feeling unite?  Perhaps, to take another step in understanding the indescribable array of diverse people whose paths have intersected my own?  No, not on such a day.  Perhaps these things will all come in their time, but it will assuredly be on busier days.  On a busier day I might continue the story I started trying to tell on this journal, or describe in more detail the progressing disparity between the faith which is my own and the faith I was born into, or maybe express more of the thoughts that go otherwise unexpressed in the kind of controlled community I live in right now.  On the kind of day described here, however, I would not do these things.

 dim.         rit.

On such a wandering day, I would only ask, "When language fails to teach and music fails to move, can words play the score while melodies teach the lessons?"

As baskets were passed and an offering was given a humbly dressed middle aged woman walked up onto the stage, wireless microphone in hand.  The piano began with her in a slow dark-feeling theme which quickly made most of its minor chords.  The words were familiar, but the present context changed everything about them.  My mind stirred as widely varying meanings tried to attach themselves to this simple lament; yes in the present context it was all too much a lament.  As I listened the words repeated slowly, sinking deeper each time.

            We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord…

On she sang building slowly from pianissimo to the inevitable crescendo that would come.  This approach was slow, deliberate, and mournful  As the verse changed the profound context became ever clearer

            They will know we are Christians by our love, by our love…

The smooth dirge wound to its conclusion and ended as sadly as it began.  The woman who sang handed over the microphone, walked to her seat, and sat down next to her ‘partner’, just behind the sign language section.  Yes, this was a church made up in large part of homosexual Christians.  With residue of the song’s melody still reverberating all around I surveyed the room.  I looked at the lesbian couple in front of me, and their two adopted Asian daughters squirming in their seats.  They always smiled, I noticed.  I looked at the gay couple beside me, whose home had become a place of hospitality and friendship for me.  I looked at the pastor, whose partner set aside his PhD and given up six figure earnings to spend his time doing volunteer work for this congregation.  I looked at many others.  I looked down to my feet.

Are we one in the Spirit? …in the Lord?

Could we know they are Christians? 

By their love?

And so did they pray that a unity might be restored.  Yet the tune said as much as the words as sorrow and regret pervaded my memory of the moment.  It seems most certain we’ll never be one.  We will know they aren’t Christians by our doctrines, and we will never walk with each other.  They will look for in Scripture what ought be but isn’t there.  The answer will never present itself through a miracle of exegesis; no scholar shall ever hand us consensus.  We must think, we must pray, we must open up eyes and see.  Assumptions must be challenged, rhetoric must die, theology must touch living flesh.  But will we be one?  I assume not, but let the sad song play on anyway.

Make us one in the Spirit, show us life in the Lord.

We pray that a unity could somehow be restored,

We are bound by one Spirit and one Lord.

This night I sleep haunted by a song so very sad.  Might it be better not to hear at all?  No, no, that would not do.

Resolution/s

Here spelled out are my thoughts of resolution to consider for another year. I do not say new, because things will only be as new as we make them; more likely things will remain very old indeed. The voice is intentionally left ambiguous, since some of these may be less personal (and thus not so subtly critical) than others. As I see it, if we’re all taking the time to read this here, we might as well try on the shoes. Just don’t wear them out of the store without paying.

(I) Resolve (with reservations)…

To recognize that faith that is communally individualistic is not more noble than individual faith that is socially benevolent, just as an errored consensus is no real justification for falsehood.

To find spiritual interest in more than just our personal salvific status, differing only from “the world” in the time frame around which our motivating self-interest revolves.

To crucify the old self with its cliches, naiveties, assumptions, misjudgments, and arrogant assertions.

To eat even less cafeteria food than last year.

To stop being ambiguously blunt in silly, unspoken accusatory remarks made in public forums. In other words, to be more sincere in satirical statements made for the communication of contradictory pearls of misleadingly valuable wisdom.

To ask myself, as readers of this list probably already have, what’s absurd here and what’s truly grave? What in life is hysterical, and what is tragic?

To ponder every single day if I’m right about what I’ve been wrong about or if I’m wrong about the things which I think I’ve now got right.

To elaborate more, briefly though.

To know when to quit.