1 Corinthians 8:9-13 by Rola Al Ashkar

“I am a proud Lebanese.” This is the first statement with which I introduce myself on one of the Meetup websites. And this is the most important thing I want people to know about me, because I am a confidently proud Lebanese. Some of you might have noticed or heard me talking about the best wine in the world, my old pastor back in Alabama used to tease about my assertion on having the best apples in the world, I think we have the best music, the best dancing and it isn’t long before I would convince you that we have the best food in the world. Whenever I am outside Lebanon I am missing my culture, my music, my dancing and an audience who would not only appreciate all these, but who can actually share with me, my interest in them. But on the other hand, whenever I am in Lebanon, I suddenly realize how American my mind has become. Sometimes I feel alienated from my society, especially as a young woman, a Presbyterian, a prospective minister and the combination of all three together. I feel more accepted, more included in a society like the varied American society than in my traditional one, but then again, at the end of the day, deep down I am very oriental, and very very Lebanese.

The issue of belonging is a delicate matter. I even know many Syrians who were forced to live in Beirut -and the drive from Beirut to Damascus is shorter than that from Sacramento to San Francisco- yet, those people feel detached from their roots. Though Lebanon has the same nature as Syria, we have the same language, same food, same history and identical traditions since we used to be one country in the past! But still, the problem of identity is very sensitive and very specific.

If you are a Nisei, you have probably heard your parents talk about similar struggles. You might not have experienced them the same way they did, but I’ll bet the dilemma of defining your identity has always been there as you grew up with Japanese parents and tried to survive in American schools. And even if you are not Japanese, if you are Deutsch married to a Vietnamese and living in the US, or Catholic attending a Presbyterian church, or a republican in California, or an LGBTQ in a conservative family, or a Christian coming from a Buddhist household, then you know what it means to struggle to find your own identity.

And you know, this is part of life. We live our lives trying to define who we are. We’ve seen it happening with Jesus, and now we will examine another instance in Corinth, where it is obvious that the church was experiencing an identity crisis. There were those who eat meat sacrificed for idols, or namely the more liberal Christians. Those were most probably Christians from pagan origin. And on the other hand, there were those who do not eat meat sacrificed for idols, or the more conservative ones. These are probably the Jewish Christians. And there was no room for the both of them, under one roof. There was not a common identity for that church anymore, so they reached out to Paul: we don’t know who we are anymore!

One of the great things I admire about Paul‘s leadership, is that he never picks a side. So at the end of the passage, he doesn’t really tell the conservatives that they were wrong or the liberals that they were right, but that they were both stupid.

How many of you have seen “Chocolat?” It’s a movie about a gypsy woman and her daughter who opens a chocolaterie in a small French village during the period of lent, which shakes up the rigid morality of the community. And everyone tries to fight her, but then she ends up being exactly what that little village needed. At the end of the movie, the village priest –Père Henrie- got on that pulpit on Easter morning and said: “We cannot go around measuring our goodness by what we do not do, by what we deny ourselves, what we resist, and who we exclude. We’ve got to measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create, and who we include.”

I’ve seen that movie over a year ago but I still remember that line and I think it’s a great line; it would have been an excellent finish line for Paul in the Corinthian situation. But again, Paul’s conclusion is indeed a great one. He did not deny the importance of having a common identity, however, that identity was not necessarily what they had in mind. The label Paul wanted to put on this church was not one of the two: “meat eaters” and “abstainers.” Rather he wanted them to develop a new sense of identity. So in his conclusion: “if food is a cause of the falling of my siblings, I will never eat meat, so that I may not cause one of them to fall,” he seems to be saying: “It isn’t what separates you from each other that should create your identity but it is rather what unites you. It is what people from the outside will look at you, nod their heads, and say.”

When I worked for the airlines, there were company drivers who drove us back and forth between our homes and the airport. One day I ran by a driver outside work, and I was of course looking different, and he did not recognize me. So I said: you didn’t know me? I am Rola! And he went: “excuse me my daughter, but you all look the same with your uniform and your identical hair style and make up.” Just as it is with this driver, it is also for passengers: we are all the same. But it is who each of us chooses to be on that flight that gives her an identity in the eyes of passengers. And so at the end of some flights, you have this one passenger approaching you -amongst all 10 other crew members- with a gift or a written report, to thank you for being so cheery and helpful.

So again, as churches who all wear that same uniform, for outsiders we all look the same, we are not only one of those many churches out there, but also one of those many religions out there! But is it possible that we can still mark ourselves with a unique identity for ourselves?

Do we know who we are today: as Christians? As reformed Protestants? As Presbyterians? As Parkview Presbyterian Church, or what has become known to me as the “morning Japanese-American and evening Indonesian” church? As a church of initial refugees in America who is also hosting and helping a church of immigrants? This is a privilege not given to many other churches. But then again, how do we express our unique identity and unity as one body, rather than two different churches that happen to be renting the same place? I would like to invite us all today to reflect on Paul’s and Père Henrie’s lines, and think of what unites us, and that we are called to demonstrate that unity, and thus define our identity.