Some notes from a chapel message from the fourth Sunday after the Epiphany.

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In a letter we know as 1 Corinthians, Paul seems to be addressing several issues, topics, and questions that he’s heard that they were struggling with. As he addresses each of the questions, he does it by coming back to their common identity as people belonging to Christ, and then pointing out the implications for the behaviors of the people involved. Some of the issues matter to us, some of them may not as much. But what does matter completely are the principles Paul uses to decide.

In the text for last Sunday the particular issue is food-related. Corinth had many temples to Greek and roman gods. Part of the worship process was to bring animals, which were ritually slaughtered to appease the god. There was a lot of meat, and to dispose of it, the meat was sold.

The particular question is, “can you in good conscience eat meat that was offered to an idol without it counting as worshipping that idol?”

Some people argued that you could because the idols weren’t real gods. Other people had grown up eating that meat as part of the worship, and try as they might, if they ate it, they couldn’t forget that part of their life. The food, the prayers, the values. The first group were pretty confident. The second group were pretty vulnerable.

But isn’t the truth what matters most?

It’s a good question. Because the truth was, idols aren’t real. But the bigger truth is this: people are real.

Paul wants the people to know that caring for and about the relationships other people have with God is the most important thing for the community of Jesus.

At the core of his answer is this phrase: For whom Christ died.

He was talking about the people who were the vulnerable people, the people who were less in touch with the factual truth that idol gods aren’t real gods, the people who are more fragile in their beliefs.

And he says, these are people, just like you, for whom Christ died.

A few years ago, I wrote down a phrase I’d heard: “You will not lock eyes with anyone today that God doesn’t love.” It’s a practical application of a familiar verse: God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son.

It may be why I don’t make eye contact sometimes. If each person I meet walking down the hallway, driving in ridiculous ways, saying foolish things, thinking untrue thoughts—if all of those people are loved by God, I have to think about loving them, too. Actually, I have to love them. Because he loved each of them, and me, and died for them and me.

It may be why we are able to be so obnoxious in online comment boxes: we can’t see the people reading.

So, everyone is someone for whom Christ died. Whoever we see, whoever we talk with, Christ valued enough to die for them.

So we need to value them, too. Just as we would hope to be valued.