Avodah

This last week I have been reading 1 Corinthians as a letter. You know – starting with the salutation and reading it straight through to the signature at the end – like first century Christians in Corinth would have read it – like Paul originally dictated it. Hmmm. I've never done that before. How odd.

I imagine first century Corinth like a Las Vegas or Amsterdam with beautiful buildings and people milling about from all parts of the world. There is a constant buzz in the air with vendors hawking their goods from tents. There is a man over there with his donkey and cart selling bread. Can you smell the yeast? As I look down, I notice that the sidewalk in this part of town is paved with beautiful mosaic tiles. There is a woman on the corner just ahead trying to catch my eye – trying to entice me to buy what she is offering. I duck into the library instead. This is clearly a pagan city with no moral compass. A city with people for whom "worship" means paying occasional tributes to the gods to keep them from pestering you. In this culture, you want the gods to remain silent. You wouldn't want one actually interfering with your life. Heavens no!

Paul's challenge here is that he is a Pharisee who knows all 600 of the Law's provisions. He knows that Christ came to free him and all his Jewish brethren from the burden of the Law, from the legalism, from the twisted and tangled mess the Law had become. But Corinth does not know the Law. How can you teach freedom from an oppression that is only a concept, not an actual experience? What oppression? Life is good here. How can he teach God's intention of the Law without falling into a literal interpretation of it? How do you teach about a God who not only wants to interfere with your life, his spirit is actually in you?

I am in the courtyard of a typical Publican's villa with a toga-clad congregation on a warm breezy evening munching on grapes while engaged in passionate debates about the "body". Christianity is a new philosophy to be argued and quarreled about. It is a "head" thing. Factions are taking sides with Apollos' people or Chloe's people. In this culture the body is a prison for the spirit. Anything you do with your body is OK as long as it feels good. Maybe some friends come with benefits. Why not? We're all going to die anyway. What's the point? My true self, my spirit, will be liberated when I die. Resurrection of the body? Who would want that? Yuck. Hey slave, toss me another pomegranate, will you?

Into this society, Paul is preaching a new Gospel. He is teaching that the body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, that the body and spirit reside in the same house, that when you join bodies with someone else you become one with them. How odd this sounds -- here where bodily pleasures are abundant and commonplace. How odd to be told that much of what this society sees as amoral is sinful before God.

In the Greek mind, it was very difficult to put the mind and body back together into one coherent and connected concept. What Plato had separated was not going to come back together easily. Two thousand years later, the Greek in me has a much easier time unifying what has been divided between the mind and the body. It is difficult to actually get into the head of a first-century Corinthian and understand how difficult this was for them. Or so I thought.

So I try this. In Hebrew there is a word for worship: avodah. It is the same word for work. It is the same word for service or ministry. In God's view, work and worship are the same – no difference, no dualism. What I do for a living I do for God. When I picture myself gathered for worship … am I at church, or at work, or both? At church, of course. Worship at work? I just work to make money not to actually minister to someone. We're all going to retire anyway. What's the point? … Wait a minute ... I'm sounding like an Corinthian.

Work-worship is meant to be part of my entire life. At work-worship God expects me to build up, edify, instruct, encourage, comfort, and uplift people. At work-worship, when I feel God present in my life, I hum a hymn, pray a prayer, glance up and say "Thanks." Maybe I just need to start by putting the two words back together.

With Stephen ministry-work-worship this is an easier concept to grasp. I can wrap my conceptual arms around a unified concept here. But sitting here in my cubicle under fluorescent lights typing at a computer? Is there avodah going on here? When was the last time I used "Lord willing" at the end of a sentence? Can I really bring worship into a status report or a project plan? Hmmm.

Avodah. What a word! What a concept! Paul was trying to bring peace through unity in many areas. Bringing my work, my worship, my service, my ministry into a union, into one avodah, is hard for me. It is hard for our churches.

By putting work and worship back together, Paul's instruction becomes: "When you gather for work-worship, be prepared with something that will be useful for all: Sing a hymn, teach a lesson, tell a story, lead a prayer, provide an insight."

I am hearing a breath of new life and feeling a coming peace through an ancient teaching. With each passing day I can strive to bring down from my head and into my heart the beauty and peace that comes from comprehending the full meaning of true worship, true avodah. With each passing day I can bring more of my love for the Lord to my neighbors through my work-worship – through my avodah. Heavens yes! Lord willing.

Lord, thank you so much for interfering with my life. Amen.

For more reflection, visit The Avodah Institute