Philippians 2:1-13
October 1, 2023
A Canadian public service
announcement with the hashtag EatTogether came out a few years ago. It
was obviously pre-Covid, that time which feels like a very, very long time ago
when we knew nothing of social distancing. But I remember when I first watched
it thinking, “This is good stuff right here. This is kingdom stuff.”
I hadn’t thought about this PSA for
a long time, but for some reason it rolled across my social media this week,
and I watched it again. As I was preparing for this sermon, I looked for it on
YouTube and watched it again, then I watched it a few more times just for good
measure.
This is one of the few times when I
wish we had access to a screen, so I could show you this rather than try to
describe it, but I’ll do my best. And if you have access to YouTube, I highly
recommend that you watch this when you can.
The PSA opens with a young woman
coming home from work. She walks into her apartment building with other
residents and everyone except her is staring at their phones, oblivious to
everything and everyone around them. Many people have headphones on or earbuds
in so they can tune out the world even more completely. The doorman sitting
behind his desk is staring into his phone, not paying attention to who is
coming and going. She gets onto the elevator to go to her apartment and it’s
the same thing. There is no interaction, no smiling, no casual chatting as the
elevator makes it journey upwards. The people are only aware of when the
elevator reaches their floor and then they move off, still staring at their
phones.
The woman is clearly bothered by
this. She looks at the people around her in dismay. And when she walks into her
apartment, she finds her roommate, headphones on, staring at her laptop with
her tablet also open beside her. The young woman is frustrated and drums her
fingers on a small table beside the door. That’s when she gets an idea.
The next scene is of this young
woman and her roommate, bringing that table and another small table out into
the hallway. They bring out chairs, and they set the tables with tablecloths
and dishes and utensils and even some candles. They bring out their dinner, and
they sit down and wait. In the next minute the elevator door opens, and a
family – a mother, father, and daughter – step off. The little girl pulls her
mother toward the two women, and they join them at the table, bringing out
their own table and chairs and adding their own dishes of food to the meal.
After this, some guys poke their head out their door, see what’s happening and
join them, doing the same as the earlier family helping the collective table and
meal grow by adding theirs. And so it goes. Neighbors up and down the floor do
the same. People are talking and laughing, shaking hands, sharing food. It is
all lovely.
Then
the little girl crawls underneath the conglomeration of tables and goes to a
door at the far end of the hallway. All talk at the table stops, and all heads
turn her way, wondering what will happen. The little girl knocks on the door
and when it is opened by an older gentleman, she beckons him to come join them.
He looks at the people gathered in the hallway, then closes his door. In a
second it is opened again, and he brings out a bottle of wine and a smoked
sausage and walks with the little girl to join the others at the table.
Everyone cheers and makes him welcome. There is no narration to any of this,
other than a fabulous version of the song, What the World Needs Now. You
don’t hear the conversations. There is no deep voice over explaining what is
happening, but in a PSA that lasts less than two minutes, you watch as
strangers become neighbors, and neighbors become friends, and bonds are made, and
a meal is shared, and one table is created out of many, and all are welcomed. #EatTogether.
No
matter how many times I watch this PSA, it never fails to bring tears to my
eyes. It reminds me of family meals growing up, meals where we could slow down
a little, and enjoy one another’s company, and when – especially after a
celebratory meal – we would relax, and stories would be told and memories
shared even as they were being created. If there was one blessing from Covid
and being in lockdown, its that our family gathered around the table on a
regular basis, and once a week, other members of our family, still within our
bubble, would join us and we would eat together and laugh and love – all around
the table.
I
doubt that Paul was thinking about a table in his letter to the Philippians,
although food and eating together was certainly part of his theology. But in
this letter, Paul is writing from prison. It may be that his life will soon
come to an end. But Paul does not bemoan his situation. Instead he sees it as
another opportunity to advance the gospel. Yet Paul must have realized that
this might be his last opportunity to write to the church in Philippi, to
encourage and exhort the people there, so he writes this letter, and he
encourages the Philippians to remember that being disciples of Jesus the Christ
goes against the grain of the world. The values to which disciples ascribe are
often countercultural to the values proclaimed by the world. What the Roman Empire
states as being important – getting ahead, keeping up with the Joneses, or the
Caesars as the case may be, individualism and isolationism – are not the values
that are important to those who would follow Christ.
To
underscore all of this, he uses in our verses today what is believed by
scholars to have been an ancient hymn, what is often referred to as the Christ
Hymn. Paul begins this part of the letter by writing,
“If
then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any
sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of
the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do
nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as
better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to
the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”
And
then Paul weaves in the words from what must have been the hymn. Words that
affirm that even though Jesus was the human incarnation of God, he didn’t
believe that his divinity was something to be used or exploited. Instead he
humbled himself. He emptied himself. He took on the role of slave and became
obedient to the point of death, even a criminal’s execution on a cross. So,
those who would follow Jesus the Christ, those who would seek to be his
disciples in the world must be willing to do the same. We must be willing to
humble ourselves, to not think that we are better than others or above others
regardless of our worldly situation. We are to approach life and each other
with humility. We are to have the same mind as Christ and share that same mind
with each other.
Now
these words are beautiful, but they can also be tricky to interpret. They have sometimes
been interpreted to mean that every Christian must think exactly alike. And if
we don’t, if we think differently from one another, then somebody must be
wrong. When it comes to interpreting these words about humility, we must be
careful as well. There are people who have been humiliated by life, by unjust
circumstances and oppression by others. To ask them for humility seems false
and wrong. Paul’s urging for humility as also been interpreted as meaning that
a “good Christian” should never think about themselves, their own needs, or their
own welfare. Instead they should be a doormat for the world, and the truth is
that when it comes to this interpretation, it has often been used against
people who are already treated like doormats by others.
I’m
not convinced that Paul meant for his words to be interpreted in this way. I
don’t think he expected every disciple to think the same way. That would be
uniformity, not unity. I don’t think he wanted people to be humiliated or to be
treated like dirt for the sake of Christ. Instead, I think Paul wanted disciples
to recognize that true humility is not about self-degradation but about seeing
that God’s world is much bigger than our one, limited perspective can grasp.
Maybe true humility is not about telling ourselves that we’re losers and others
aren’t, that we are low and they are high, but about reminding ourselves that
we could be wrong. Someone we may wholeheartedly disagree with could have a
truth to share. Humility is understanding that there is no work too low for us
to do, and that we are all on the same road together, trying to walk the same
walk.
And
that brings me back to the table. You see what I love about World Communion
Sunday is the image I have of people all around the globe gathering at a table
and sharing some form of the bread and drinking some version of the cup, and
repeating the words that we will hear in just a few minutes: that when Jesus
took the bread and the cup of wine, he infused these common, everyday elements
with a deeper meaning and asked those at table with him to remember him. When
we gather at this table, we too are called to remember him; to remember how he
lived his life and how he approached his death and how God pulled him from the
grave to new life, and in doing so, did the same for us.
And
today, whatever the time zone, whatever the style of church or sanctuary, whatever
the style of table – grand or simple, however the elements are presented,
people around the world are remembering, and they’re recommitting to the walk,
to this shared journey, to imitating the mind of Christ, the humility of
Christ, so that the good news continues to be shared and so this world can be
better for all of us and all creation. That is the power of the Lord’s Supper
and what we do this day. And that is the power of this table. If we can see one
another through this table, not just today but every day, and if we can
remember what Jesus did and does and will do, than we come closer to sharing
the mind of Christ. Then we will truly live lives of humility and obedience and
love. When we come to this table, may we remember, may we grow in faith and
love, and then may we leave this table and go out, living and loving likewise, making
God’s joy complete.
Let
all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment