If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.

If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient; love is kind; 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.

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end.

For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end.

When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

I Cor. 13:1-13

Many of you already know how I feel about Paul's epistles. But just to be clear, I feel about them the way someone once described Wagner's operas--full of great moments and long half hours; stretches of inspired brilliance followed by long passages of somewhat muddy waters that are difficult to navigate.

Today, the lectionary gives us one of the most inspired moments in all of Paul's writings. This text, I Cor. 13, is surely his most well known passage. It owes its fame, of course, to the fact it's been read at countless weddings. Even people who have never heard of Paul, who have never gone to church, never read the Bible, often opt to have this passage read at their wedding.

That's understandable on one had, given the simple beauty and profound wisdom of this passage. But it turns out there is some irony in using this passage at weddings, for it's not meant to be a description of romantic love.

Nowadays few of us appreciate that point because we routinely lift the passage out of its context and apply it to our purposes. But we do so at our peril, really, if we genuinely want to understand Paul's message here. It's like we've lifted an apple tree out of its orchard, placed it in isolation and expect it to bear fruit.

So, some context. Paul wrote not one but two letters to the Corinthian church, of which this is the first, written some 20-25 years after the death of Jesus. It was a time before the church became institutionalized. Centuries before that in fact. Before there were really anything like ordained clergy, or stand-alone church buildings.

It was a time when churches were communities rather institutions, gatherings of people who met in homes, who shared agape meals together--love feasts--and did their best to practice their new found faith within a rather hostile cultural environment.

There are folks out there today who have a romanticized view of this period of church history. Who believe that these primordial Christian communities were filled with the power of the Holy Spirit and were highly unified around the teachings of Jesus.

For better or worse, those folks are wrong. Badly wrong, as it turns out. We know from all of Paul's letters in fact - to the church in Rome, the church in Galatia, in Ephasus - that these emerging Christian communities were full of conflicts. They were riddled with questions about morality and propriety, about leadership and procedure, about worship and membership. Which is to say they were very much like every church, ever.

And none more so than the Corinthian church. It was a community so deeply divided over so many things it was threatening to come apart at the seems.

And not surprisingly, really, for the Corinthian church reflected the wider tensions in play throughout the Mediterranean world at the time. A world where the predominate culture was founded on hierarchical distinctions, centered around wealth and poverty, around privilege and servitude, gender and race, honor and shame.

At the time Paul wrote this letter, that culture was changing, and the hierarchies, the religion and the customs that held it together were breaking down.

You see, Corinth was a major metropolitan center, and as such many cultural streams came together there--first century Greek culture, centered around the worship of Zeus and the other Greek gods. Traders from Africa sailed into its ports and brought their language with them, along with their own cultural and religions practices. And Corinth was also home to a major Jewish enclave.

On one hand it's hard to imagine just how potent and diverse this cultural mileu was. And so it's perhaps hard to imagine how this single epistle, written some 2000 years ago to a very specific context, can have any relevance to us. Can in fact be the Word of God to us.

Except that it's not hard to imagine how potent and diverse this cultural milleu was. What was true of Corinth then is true of our country today. Our culture is rapidly changing. Immigrants from Africa and Asia and Latin America continue to arrive daily, changing the literal complexion of our country. Like those ancient Greek temples in Corinth, America's churches, once predominant, are giving way to all sorts of other religious institutions and practices - mosques, Buddhist temples, Hindu temples, New Age resorts and spas.

It's like one giant Corinth out there today.

Even here in the Swannanoa valley people are moving into our communities and our neighborhoods from many other states, even from other countries. We now see signs on our roadways and menus in our restaurants in other languages. Someone told me that in one middle-school in Asheville, the students speak some 20 different native languages.

And even right here, in this space, the composition of our church is changing, as we grow. The composition of the college is changing. And the historic relationship between the college and the church continues to change.

Sometimes all this change is exciting and exhilarating. And sometimes it's tiring and even threatening. And if we're not willing to admit that, we're probably not being honest with ourselves..

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.

As I read these oh so familiar words again this week, I wondered if Paul wasn't writing more for his benefit than for the Corinthians.

This was a man, don't forget, who was a model Jew. Who persecuted the Christian community. He stoned people to death for what he perceived to be their heretical allegiance to this blasphemous rabbi who claimed to be God's living representative on earth.

It wasn't so hard early on, perhaps, when the church in Corinth, the church Paul founded, consisted mostly of Jewish believers, which is to say, people just like him.

But of course it didn't stay that way. The Gospel message of inclusivity and welcome, of transforamation and liberation, of equality and acceptance, of grave-shattering hope and boundry-breaking love--God's good news for all people began to attract all sorts of rag tag characters.

Roman politicians sick to death of their corrupt lifestyles, in search of forgiveness and redemption.

Corinthian housewives who, even 20 centuries ago, knew they were born for something more than serving as domestic slaves for their husbands, in search of identities of their own.

Greek slaves, actual slaves, who knew in their bones they we every bit as human as their so-called masters, in search of freedom and identity.

Gentiles who were tired of being told that they weren't good enough to be part of God's community, in search of faith and meaning and acceptance.

As the Corinthian church gave way to all these changes, all these new faces and ideas, you can imagine how Paul struggled to be born again himself, to keep up with and accept all these changes.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.

I wonder if this isn't first a confession from a man who struggled, genuinely struggled, to follow the radical new way of Jesus, a reminder to practice what he preached.

But it's more than that, too. The truth is the Corinthian church was mess. It was divided over leadership issues, who was the real deal and who was not. It was divided over questions of how to serve and how to receive the Lord's Supper. Over food offered to idols. What could you wear, what could you believe, what could you eat, and still be part of the community?

It was a community in search of itself in a time of rapid change.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.

Sometimes I think we've domesticated this passage, and made it about the love between husband and wife, the love between romantic partners regardless of gender, because it's easier to think about that kind of love.

When your spouse does something dumb--locks his keys in the car, say--the form love takes in that moment is patience. That's what love looks like. When the wife does not justifiably yell at or belittle him in that moment, you can point to that and say, "That's love." It's not a feeling. It's a decision you make. It's something you do.

When that same man brings his wife a drink of water in the night - that simple act of kindness, that's love. When the two of them, the two of you, are having an argument and one just stops mid-stream and don't insist on her or his own way, that's love.

And we all know that's true, don't we? We've all been the one to lock our keys in the car - the lock er - or we've been the lock ee , and so we also know that Paul's ideal is a little hard to practice in real life.

In church it's a bit different, isn't it, although not that much, really.

When the newcomer raises her hand in a committee meeting, someone who clearly doesn't know the first thing about who we are or what we believe or how we do things, and she asks us to do something new, something different (heaven help us!) . . .

Love is patient.

When a visitor takes your parking place, or sits in your pew (heaven forbid!) . . .

Love is kind.

When your friend in the adult Sunday school class gets a promotion at work even as you've been looking for a job just to pay the bills . . .

Love is not envious.

When it's you that gets the promotion and your classmate literally can't find a job . . .

Love is not boatful or arrogant or rude.

When one of our committees makes a decision that you disagree with, and Session votes to approve that decision . . .

Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful.

When your pastor lets you down, or lets his humanity or his limits show . . .

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things.

Friends, hear these words again:

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels . . . but . . . do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains . . . but . . . do not have love, I am nothing.

If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast . . . but . . . do not have love, I gain nothing.

Those are some mighty big "buts," friends, if I may say so. I believe they are there to remind us that love is more important to our faith than faith itself is.

I know - that's a startling statement. Probably some folks would find that downright heretical. And I wouldn't be inclined to make that motion at a Presbytery meeting!

And, really, how can love, how can anything, be more important than my faith?

But I'm not the one suggesting that it is. Now faith, hope, and love abide, these three, Paul concludes; and the greatest of these is love.

Amen