The Long Plank Gag (or, the pitfalls of insisting on "Right")
Clare L. Hickman
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church
January 28, 2024—Epiphany 4B
1 Cor 8:1b-13; Mark 1:21-28
As I read today’s passage from 1 Corinthians, I started thinking about the long plank gag. It’s a staple of slapstick comedy, centering around someone (in a classic case, Stan Laurel) carrying a long plank. The unwitting sap, coming up behind Stan, calls out to him, and as Stan turns around, the plank hits him upside the head. Hilarity ensues, as the injured party jumps up, protesting loudly, causing Stan to swing around the other way and knock him down once more time.
The crux of the joke lies in Stan’s complete obliviousness. And in the other guy who keeps bringing about his own demise. And in the pain itself. Because that’s one of the ways we deal with things in life that are painful: we find ways to laugh at them.
Humor is one of the most intriguing, adaptive aspects of human life. It releases pressure at what would otherwise be a breaking point, and it asks questions that would otherwise be too sensitive to explore. But what we sometimes forget is that it only functions when we are also doing the serious work around the painful and confusing things that we joke about.
That’s what got me thinking about the long plank gag. Because, at its core, Paul’s letter to Corinth asks us to do the serious work, regarding the ways in which we hurt each other without intending or even realizing.
Paul’s letters are always written into a very specific context. Which means that they are by no means a comprehensive guide to Christian life, but they do touch on some universal themes of life in a Christian community. Here, we find him addressing some members who’ve been living as though rejecting the laws of the Torah was somehow a necessary and compelling proof of their faith in Jesus.
Some of them have taken this as license to reject any and all sexual norms: earlier in the letter, Paul confronts someone who is having sex with his stepmother! But today’s passage addresses those who continue to participate in the quasi-religious civil ceremonies in which the populace feasts on meat that had been sacrificed to idols.
This was no simple issue. These were significant communal events. And given how expensive meat was, these public ceremonies were the only opportunities that many people had to eat meat.
So it makes sense that some of the Christians in Corinth were participating in these events. After all, they were secure in the knowledge that this sacrificial meat had either been dedicated to a god who doesn’t exist, or had been dedicated unknowingly to the One God. Either way, no harm done.
Paul, however, cautions these folks to recognize that there are those among them who are not so clear on this truth. That some in their midst might see them participating in these feasts and get confused, wondering if there are indeed still competing gods, and if so, why these Christians are honoring those gods.
The language here is interesting. In our translation, the word used is liberty: “take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak” (1 Cor 8:9). But exousia might better be understood as a “right.” In other words: Yes, you have the RIGHT to eat meat sacrificed to idols, since you are well aware that there is, in fact, only one God. But you should nevertheless consider the effect that this might have on your brothers and sisters in Christ.
The Corinthians seem to have developed a very narrow understanding of the way in which Christ has set them free. Paul’s letter seeks to broaden their view, arguing that the freedom to be found in Christ is not an end to obligations. Even without the full requirements of the Torah, their responsibility has not changed so very much. It is (no more, but absolutely no less than) to love and serve one another in all that they do.
Which means that they cannot simply eat meat sacrificed to idols without considering how that might affect the conscience and behavior of another member of the community. Even if they didn’t realize that before, they need to listen now, and do better in the future.
Now, eating meat sacrificed to idols isn’t relevant in our own time. But I’m thinking of a story a young friend told me a while ago, about her uncle talking to her, about the young man she was dating at the time. She’s white, and her boyfriend was black. And her uncle was saying to her how great her boyfriend and his family were. Kind of like those Obamas. Not like those other stereotypical lazy N-words (except he didn’t say “n-word”). In the moment, she was too stunned to respond. But when she went back to tell him that this was not okay, he lost his mind, and insisted that he had meant it as a compliment to the family, and he had the right to use whatever words he wanted, and she shouldn’t be accusing him of being racist because he was a good person (meaning he couldn’t possibly have ever done anything racist).
Like those Corinthians, he insisted that he had the right. And of course he did have the right; it is a free society. But that doesn’t mean that every action you have a right to take will support your desire to be a good person. And it doesn’t mean that every action you have a right to take will mean that you are acting as a good Christian.
Because it isn’t good behavior to allow yourself to be guided by stereotypes. And faithful Christians find their freedom not in their right to do whatever they please, but in their responsibility to love and care for each other (particularly for the weaker and more vulnerable among them).
Like those people in Corinth, we might not always realize when we’re hurting the vulnerable. That’s fair. But as Paul insists, once we know, we have to do better going forward. Because freedom in Christ is not about our personal rights. It’s about loving and caring for each other.
I have to admit, this is the point in the sermon where I’m in danger of getting complacent. Because I’m not big on insisting on my right to do or say whatever I want, no matter how it affects other people. But something about this letter still snags at me. Because Paul is not just talking about the danger in insisting on your rights. He’s also talking about the danger in insisting that you ARE right, and that one … lands the blow.
These Corinthians are doing what they’re doing because they KNOW that there is only one God. Bone deep conviction. Obvious truth. And they probably think that’s enough to throw at these community members who feel more confused about it. “Like, Isn’t it obvious?!” But Paul insists that this kind of attitude is NOT the way. At any given time, we may KNOW that we are on the right side of the facts, of science, of justice, of history itself. But simply insisting on that is NOT the way of love.
We need to have patience. We need to have understanding. We need to ask, we need to listen, we need to speak and tell and live that truth in such a way that the rightness of it reveals itself. If we truly wish to live together in love, we can’t just state our facts, insist on our correctness, and insult anyone who thinks or believes otherwise.
Again, for us, it’s not about eating meat sacrificed to idols (unless your life is considerably more interesting than mine is!). But it is about the way we are able to extend grace to others who might be at a different stage of the journey from us. And oh God I hate that, because I KNOW I’m right about climate change, the importance of pronouns, the effectiveness of vaccines, or whatever else it might be. But Paul’s teaching about community tells me that I need to come to this armed with more than just my rightness (and THEIR wrongness).
Not because all opinions are equal and all truths are valid. But, on the pragmatic side, because disdain is not even slightly persuasive. And on the Jesus side, because it is antithetical to love. We aren’t required to accept abuse, or make peace with the intolerable, but we ARE called to consider how we might bear with one another … to tell and to listen, to listen and to tell … so that we might all grow in love towards one another, and thus be more deeply rooted in Christ.
So that, in fact, we might be free! May it be so, my friends. Amen.