Sermon: Paul Takes on the Foolish Galatians

Sermon. St Vedast-alias-Foster. 29 May 2016.

First Sunday after Trinity (Year C)

Galatians 1.1-12

Luke 7.1b-10

• Have you ever received a letter where every letter was cut out of a newspaper? Gd forbid!
• Have you ever been given a letter written in green ink? I hope not.
• Have you ever had a letter telling you everything you believe is nonsense (or worse) and putting you right by giving you the pure truth? Perhaps you have (if, for example, you have ever had a letter published in the Church Times, which, for some reason, prints your full address - I know whereof I speak).
• Have you ever been on the receiving end of abuse on social media? I think @StVedast may have been spared that aspect of the twittersphere. But if you are especially active in social media, chances are you will have been unceremoniously insulted.

Why do I ask these questions? Well, I want to suggest that St Paul's letter to the Galatians has some (I emphasise: some) of the qualities of a letter written in green ink. He is being blunt to the point of rudeness. But we may miss this if we don't know the conventions of letter-writing which Paul is breaking.

Today's Second Reading is the opening of the epistle. Paul introduces himself, according to convention. (You sign in rather than sign off.) He then gives his characteristic greeting 'grace to you and peace'. Grace is charis in Greek which may be taken as a homophonic adaptation of the secular opening, 'chairein', or 'Greetings'. 'Peace' (eirene in Greek) resonates with the well-known Hebrew greeting, 'shalom'. So it it likely that Paul is here implicitly insisting that Christianity is a blending of the best of Greek and Hebrew/Jewish traditions.

Crucially, though, what his readers would then have been expecting from him would be a hymn of praise to Gd mentioning them, thanking Gd for their existence, and for their gifts and virtues. For example, this is from the opening of Paul's letter to the Philippians:

I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now. I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ. [Phil 1.3-6]

If you had grounds to expect something as affirming as that, just imagine how shocked you would be when, instead, you hear this:

I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel... there are some who are confusing you and want to pervert the gospel of Christ.

Perhaps you see now why I say Paul is being blunt to the point of rudeness. St Paul is not a cruel writer (though I realise I may have to convince some of you of that over coffee). So what is so exercising him? It is not hard to discover.

Some in the community in Galatia were urging male gentile participants to be circumcised. And this meant much more than a moment's ritual - and rather more moments of pain. No, it meant that the one circumcised, and his female companions, were committing to keep the whole of Torah, all the 613 commandments which Jews believe originated in the meeting with Gd on Sinai.

St Paul thought that was wrong. Very wrong. Dangerous. Undermining. So he is strong in his opposition. Later, he calls the Law/Torah a curse [3.10-14]. And later still he even says: 'I wish those who advise these things would castrate themselves' [5.12]. Or mutilate themselves. He seems to be saying: let those who seek the circumcision of male gentiles rather endure an extra circumcision themselves! Brutal stuff.

And it gets worse. For it is in no small part because of this letter that later Christians saw an unbridgeable chasm between

• on the one hand, Moses and Sinai and Torah and Law (bad),
• and on the other hand Christ and the Cross and freedom and grace (good).
  Judaism and all its ways – many have understood Paul as saying – is passing away, its purposes fulfilled in Christ. As no one needs a guardian or satchel-bearer or nanny as an adult, so now all those specifically Jewish commandments – which no one ever kept fully any way – serve no purpose. Bluntly (on this reading), Judaism and Christianity are against each other.

It is worth pausing here to take full cognizance of the radically different message from today's gospel, from Luke. Here we have what we must surely call interfaith harmony. And note that the harmony actually precedes the arrival of Jesus on the scene. Already the centurion, although from the occupying power, has got to know both Jews and Judaism, and is evidently profoundly sympathetic, to the point of building a synagogue. The centurion and the Jews around him show mutual respect, understanding and empathy. Indeed, the text itself speaks of love. Thus the centurion already has the insight he needs to see in Jesus an impressive figure from the faith he loves, who can heal. Yet he apparently has seen no need to convert to Judaism, and was apparently under no pressure from Jews to do so. So indeed: interfaith relations at their richest and most hopeful.

Back to St Paul. And the good and hopeful news is that the oppositional reading of Galatians I've just presented – that Judaism and Christianity are opposed to one another – has been severely criticised over several decades now, and has been undermined.

Scholars have noticed that nowhere – not in Galatians, nor elsewhere – does Paul suggest that Jewish boys should avoid circumcision. Indeed, twice in Galatians Paul says that neither cirumcision nor uncircumcision count for anything. But that cuts both ways (no pun intended). It means there's no special virtue attached to being uncircumcised either. It follows that Paul's argument must be that Jews - but only Jews – should circumcise their sons. And the whole question is entirely irrelevant when it comes to the matter of salvation. You don't need to be Jewish to be saved.

Scholars have also noted that this understanding – that you don't have to be Jewish to be saved – is actually itself very Jewish. It's part of rabbinic Judaism – that's much later than Paul but probably with very early roots. Let me remind you of the Tosefta (Sanhedrin 105a), which insists (and I quote): 'The righteous of all the nations have a share in the world to come'.

Further, even the idea that Torah is something like a curse, an all-but-unbearable heavy burden, is something rabbinic Jews might themselves say – when engaging a potential convert. Within a Jewish circle, Torah is hard work, but also a huge privilege, offering real intimacy with Gd. But when discussing it with someone who says they want to convert, in order to be sure that their motivation is pure, you present the Jewish way at its most negative. Let me, again, refresh your memory of the process of accepting a convert set out in the Talmud (Yevamot, 47 a & b). The Jew says: 'Do you not know that Israel is now afflicted, persecuted, humbled, distracted and suffering chastisements?' and goes on to make clear all the penalties for disobeying laws the gentile currently does not have to keep. (By the way, the successful convert says in reply only: 'I know, and am not worthy'.)

It is certainly possible that Paul is standing near the beginning of this rabbinic Jewish tradition of presenting Torah as negatively as possible to those who are drawn to it. So his argument is not at all that Judaism is done-away-with. Rather, it is that the Church must be an internally diverse community. I'd say the Church is necessarily a multinational body, but I don't want to be heard as commenting on any imminent referendums.

What I must say is this: for Paul, the Church is a community we join as we are. No one need 'cross the floor'. No one need pretend to be something they are not. The one thing that is absolute according to Paul is Christ's welcome. It is for all. It is for you.

'Just as I am without one plea

save that thy blood was shed for me'

Charlotte Elliott's Edwardian sentiment actually echoes down through the centuries right back to Paul and the Galatians. Paul's rudeness – ruder than we should ever dare to be in our church discourse, even with recalcitrant bishops or archdeacons, I hope – is because he felt in his bones that this universal acceptance was being obscured. Indeed, lost.

As we now enter into the great period of Ordinary Time, green after green, perhaps we can forgive Paul his metaphorical green pen, and with him, with Charlotte Elliott, with the centurion, make Christ's welcome, and Christ's healing, our own. Just as we are, without one plea. 

Amen.