Epiphany 4, Year B | I Corinthians 8:1-13
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
January 28, 2024
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
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It isn’t part of our readings today, but our I Corinthians passage calls me back to the story of Cain and Abel from early in the book of Genesis. We still get caught up in sibling rivalry today, but it’s a problem that goes way back—all the way to the world’s first brothers. Adam and Eve’s first son Cain, a horticulturalist, felt like God had slighted him in favor of his younger brother Abel, who tended livestock, Cain convinced Abel to join him on a walk and then committed the world’s first murder. When God later questioned Cain regarding Abel’s whereabouts, Cain responded with one of history’s most famous lines: “Am I my brother’s keeper?”[1] In the process, he gave voice to a concern that still echoes today.
I have to admit that I have a number of personal challenges with our epistle today. Throughout my youth, religious leaders used the metaphor of “meat offered to idols” as a way to manipulate and control those of us in their congregations, essentially twisting it to develop such a sense of fear and concern that we policed ourselves into doing only what they told us.[2] For example, our pastors didn’t allow us to go to movies. The reason was that they were concerned that movies would have a corrupting influence, so they didn’t want us to expose ourselves to them. But the argument they used to keep us in line was “meat offered to idols.” If you go to see a movie, what happens if some other, weaker Christian sees you do it? What if they think you’re watching one of the bad ones and decide it’s okay for them to see it too? That’s a slippery slope,[3] and what if they fall further and further into sin because of what they saw you do? The Bible says you’ve essentially condemned that other person to an eternity in Hell. You are your brother’s keeper. So what do you think will happen if you’re responsible for something like that?
When faced with such a decision, the answer was obvious. In order to protect people I barely knew from eternal damnation, much less my own friends, family, or even me, of course I would “never eat meat, so that I may not cause one of them to fall.”[4] Unfortunately, this concept was applied to so many different areas of life that under the burden of personal responsibility for any and everyone around me, independent action became not just terrifying but nearly impossible. Frankly, “meat offered to idols” functioned identically to the kind of mind control a predator will use to convince a child that the abuser will harm the victim’s family if anyone ever finds out.
So that’s the kind of challenge I end up talking myself through whenever I run into this passage. Given our modern tendency to interpret Paul as a smooth-talking control freak, it isn’t particularly surprising that people use this text in the same way. Yet I don’t think Paul was trying to manipulate the Corinthians into fearful submission when he wrote this. I think he was simply trying to encourage them to have some consideration for one another.
That idea certainly fits with the broader expectations of this letter. From what Paul has already written, it sounds like these early Corinthian Christians would have taken quite happily to the more extreme ends of modern American individualism. They gather for communion, which at this point was still an actual meal, but the wealthy, who could afford to show up early, eat all the food before the poorer people are even done with work for the day. Likewise, someone in the congregation is flaunting some sort of sexual misbehavior that shocks even their nonbelieving neighbors. In the midst of what we would consider to be a highly collectivist culture, they come across functioning as unusually independent, definitely thinking of self before others—or maybe not even thinking of others at all!
With that context, it makes sense that Paul is trying to get them to slow down and think a little. Yes, the people were free to do what they want, but they need to take regard for the kind of love-made-action that Jesus has asked of us. Someone may have the legal right to exclude or intentionally shock or provoke or threaten others, but we all need to take love into account. And love never has the chance to take hold when we won’t show even the most basic amount of respect for other people’s inherent dignity.
Probably the most straightforward modern example of the type of consideration Paul is encouraging the Corithian Church to adopt would be sharing a meal with someone in recovery. If you invite someone over for dinner and you know that they’ve been working to remain sober, serving alcohol would be offensive, to say the least. It shows not simply a disinterest in the other person’s life but an actual disdain for their health and welfare. The same goes for if you know that someone has a medical restriction for what they can or can’t eat. No one intentionally serves food that harms another person physically or psychologically. If I invite a vegetarian to my house, even if they’re a vegetarian by choice rather than necessity, I’ll prepare them a vegetarian meal, whether or not there’s meat in my freezer. It’s the lowest common denominator of love, the idea of being courteous, of “do[ing] to others as you would have them do to you.”[5]
But being courteous doesn’t demand that a person become hypervigilant, either. Manipulating someone into terrified inactivity is just as bad as coercing them into other negative behaviors. When dealing with a “stronger” or “weaker” sibling, both sides have responsibility, both need to remain generous toward one another. Unless I’ve advertised myself as vegetarian, my vegetarian friend doesn’t gain the right to condemn me or somehow see themselves as superior if they “catch” me out eating a burger. They shouldn’t (and hopefully wouldn’t) judge me as a hypocrite. Likewise, someone in recovery ought not badmouth another Christian who can drink responsibly. Love and consideration flow both ways. As Paul will write just a few chapters from now, “love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”[6]
Paul isn’t legislating a fear-based form of self-policing here. In a self-obsessive society, he’s calling for basic courtesy as the minimal expression of Christ’s love. No human can consider every possible outcome of every single action. The observer still retains ultimate responsibility for their own choices and behaviors. So if I find someone else’s behavior troubling, I need to take time to have a mature conversation, being willing to not only express my viewpoint but consider what the other has to say as well. It’s impossible to see eye-to-eye with one another all the time, even as faithful followers of Jesus, so we need to be willing not only to discuss our differences but also to be generous with one another, giving the benefit of the doubt and encouraging each other to walk in love as we seek to reveal God’s Kingdom within our daily reality.
So am I my brother’s keeper? Yes and no. If I know of a way to show kindness or courtesy to someone else, then yes, it is my responsibility to “keep” our relationship and “in this way… fulfill the law of Christ.”[7] However, I cannot rightly use Paul’s words as a threat to enforce my own desires or restrict others into abiding by my rules. To do so is equally[8] harmful and disrespectful.
As a Christian, I do have responsibility to my neighbor, to act in their best interests. But I cannot ultimately be responsible for my neighbor, managing, limiting, or manipulating the choices they make before God. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” It can be hard to say. Asked as an excuse, the answer is probably yes; it won’t harm me to take more consideration for someone else. Wielded as a threat, the answer is probably no. Whether or not I “keep” my Christian sibling rightly depends on a variety of factors. But no matter the circumstance, I am responsible to love my Christian sibling, to do what I can to remain their supporter, encouragement, and friend.
[1] Genesis 4:9 | All Bible quotations are from the NRSV unless otherwise noted.
[2] I honestly doubt the leaders intended harm, but the methods they used made it nearly unpreventable.
[3] Another frequently abusive metaphor from my childhood. We were already trapped on a ledge. The “slippery slope” the leaders so feared wasn’t the downward one that they kept pointing at and shouting about but the one leading upward toward freedom and out of their domination.
[4] I Corinthians 8:13
[5] Matthew 7:12; Luke 6:31
[6] I Corinthians 13:4-7
[7] Galatians 6:2
[8] If not more