Unattached to Insult
or Praise
You may remember the Desert Fathers and Mothers from our Lenten series last year. They were an odd and inspiring movement in the fourth century, a group of Christ-followers, mostly lay people, who fled to the desert in order to unlearn the habits of the world, such as greed, envy, and anger, and in their place to cultivate the fruits of the spirit. One tale in particular came to mind as I read this week’s scripture. I’ve adapted it slightly:
A brother came to see Abba Macarius
the Egyptian, and said to him, ‘Abba, give me a word, that I may be saved.’ So
the old man said, ‘Go to that grove of trees near the oasis and insult them.
Insult every part of them: their roots, their branches, and their leaves.” The
brother went there, insulted the trees, and even threw stones at them; then he
returned and told the old man about it. Abba Macarius said to him, ‘How did
they respond? Did they say anything back to you?’ He replied, ‘No.’ The old man
said, ‘Go back tomorrow and praise them.’ So the brother went away and praised
them, extolling their roots and their branches and their leaves. He returned to
the old man and said to him, ‘I have complimented them.’ And the old man said
to him, ‘How did they answer you? Did they say anything?’ The brother said no.
The old man said to him, ‘You know how you insulted them and they did not
reply, and how you praised them and they did not speak; so you too if you wish
to be saved must do the same and become like a tree. Like those trees, do not
be yoked to either the insults of others or their praises, and you can be
saved.’[1]
Occupation and
Calling
In today’s scripture, we find Paul giving a robust defense of his missionary activity. One of the accusations to which he is responding, stems from the observation that he does not take payment as other missionaries do. Some people are saying that his no-charge policy is because he knows he’s not a real apostle.
It helps to know that in the ancient world, a religious professional found their subsistence in the support of the people whom they served—not unlike today, really. So, for example, priests who served in the temple were supported by the tithes of the people who brought sacrifices to the temple.
But Paul is not taking payment. Why? Are his opponents right? Is he refusing payment because he knows he does not deserve it?
Earlier in this chapter (1 Cor 9), Paul addresses this accusation head-on. “The Lord [even] commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel,” he acknowledges. “But I have made no use of any of these rights, nor am I writing this so that they may be applied in my case” (1 Cor 9:14-15). Why is Paul not accepting support? He explains in today’s scripture, “An obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel!” (1 Cor 9:16).
Paul is touching here on the difference between an occupation and a calling. An occupation is what you do for money. A calling is what you would do even if no one paid you. Sometimes, there’s considerable overlap between a person’s occupation and calling. Many teachers in our schools would acknowledge that teaching is their calling. Which means that, after working hours, or later in life after they have retired, they will still find themselves teaching, because it’s a calling—and “woe to [them] if [they] do not!” Paul is saying that he cannot help but proclaim the gospel. It’s not something he does for money, it’s something he is compelled to do, regardless of payment.
Freedom
And he continues on to explain why he’s chosen not to receive money: so that “I may make the gospel free of charge” (1 Cor 9:18). Paul does not want anything to stand in the way of his calling. If others have no means to support him, no problem. His proclamation is free. And this freedom cuts both ways. As he says moments later, “I am free with respect to all.” Paul has no patrons to please. They say the customer or client is always right, and that can compromise any calling. It introduces the dilemma: do I stay faithful to my calling, or do I try to make my audience happy?
The kernel of good news that I hear in today’s scripture is a little bit hidden by Paul’s passionate rhetoric, which at times gets a little convoluted. But as I untangle what he’s saying, what I hear is this: Our calling liberates us. Our calling grounds us in God’s love, so that we do not have to go looking for all the things we think will satisfy and secure us, things like approval, possessions, power. I think of what Jesus tells Martha, “You are worried and distracted by many things, but only one thing is needed” (Luke 10:41-42). The paradox of calling is that by focusing on “one thing,” we are free—present, available, able to serve—in all things. Thus Paul can say, “I am free with respect to all” in the same breath that he says, “I have made myself a slave to all” (1 Cor 9:19).
The Opposite of
People-Pleasing
To put some flesh on this idea, let me share a simple story. I remember once being a part of a small group of ministers. We would gather to share from our experiences: what we were learning, where we were struggling, how we needed help, and so on. One day, after the group, I felt particularly unsettled. I felt like what I had shared had been unhelpful. I felt like I had rambled. I felt like I had said a lot and said nothing at all.
When I shared this with my spiritual mentor, he asked, “Were you honest?” I thought for a moment and then said, “Yeah, I was.” He smiled and nodded as though the matter were settled and everything was alright. Only then did I realize that my worry had been for the approval of others. I was not like that grove of trees that Abba Macarius held up as an example. Unlike those trees, I was worried what others might think or say. I had wanted in some small way to demonstrate my wisdom and to improve my standing in the eyes of others. I was living for their praise and to avoid any criticism. My mentor was a bit like Abba Macarius, reminding me that my calling—part of which, I think, is to tell honest stories—is more important than the praise or criticisms of others.
When Paul talks about being “all things to all people,” I don’t think he’s referring to pleasing all people. I think he’s referring to its opposite: the freedom of his calling. There is little freedom in people-pleasing. But when a person is grounded in God’s love—rooted in it like a tree—needing no approval from this group or that, he can do what he is called to do in any setting. He can be all things to all people.
Called to Be
Faithful, Not “Successful”
Lest we confuse calling with a religious thing, with something we do in church or for church, it may help to remember that Paul’s calling had to do with his unique experience. In other words, it had to do with the gift that he had to share with others. Our calling is not a religious thing; it is a unique, personal, holy thing that inherently builds up others and connects us to God and ourselves. The English poet and novelist Dorothy Sayers comments:
In nothing has the Church so lost
Her hold on reality as in Her failure to understand and respect [callings
outside of the Church.] … How can any one remain interested in a religion which
seems to have no concern with nine-tenths of his life? The Church’s approach to
an intelligent carpenter is usually confined to exhorting him not to be drunk
and disorderly in his leisure hours, and to come to church on Sundays. What the
Church should be telling him is this: that the very first demand that his
religion makes upon him is that he should make good tables.[2]
Our calling may be making good things that help others. It may be teaching. It may be caring for the hurt or lonely. It may be organizing resources in a way that enriches the common good. It may be things like listening, greeting, or giving encouragement.
Whatever it is—and it may be more than one thing, and it may change over time—it is from God. It is holy. And as Paul’s writing suggests, it is liberating. It orients us in what really matters, which is being faithful to God rather than successful among peers. We work not for prestige, possessions, or power, but for the joy of that thing which we would do for no money at all. I’ve heard it said that our calling is where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep hunger.[3] It’s as good a definition as I’ve heard. We work not for results, but for the joy of our calling, and it makes us more present, more available, more able to serve—wherever there is need.
Prayer
Who equips and calls each of us uniquely,
To build up others in ways
That only we can—
Where we remain distracted and enslaved
By quests for approval, wealth, or power,
Help us to hear anew the words of Christ,
“There is need of only one thing”
…
Grant us freedom
In the small but mighty deeds
Of faithfully living out our call,
That we might know peace
And serve where there is need.
In Christ, who knew what he came to do: Amen.
[1] Adapted
from Benedicta Ward, ed., The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, The
Alphabetical Collection (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1984),
132.
[2]
Dorothy Sayers, “Why Work?” accessed January 29, 2024, https://www1.villanova.edu/content/dam/villanova/mission/faith/Why%20Work%20by%20Dorothy%20Sayers.pdf,
6-7.
[3] Frederick
Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC (New York: Harper &
Row, 1973), 95.
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