Sunday Sermon, 1 February 2026

Fourth Sunday of Epiphany, Dentdale Methodist Church

A reading from St Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians

For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

For it is written,

“I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,
and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.”

Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, in order that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.”

1 Corinthians 1:18-31 NRSV

You can listen to the sermon here, or read below:

A few years ago, Joy and I had the opportunity to visit Rome for a short trip. We didn’t have long, and we did the usual tourist thing and packed in a lot of sights: the Sistine Chapel, the Trevi Fountain, and the Spanish Steps. But the memory that stays with me above all was the visit to the Colosseum. The Colosseum was the arena of Roman spectacle, pomp, and greatness. It was also a monument to violence and pain, as slaves were slaughtered for the amusement of the crowds. As we passed through the dark and shadowy arched passageways of the ‘vomitoria’, we came out into the open space of the amphitheatre. Against the warmth of stone and sand, and the bright blue sky, stood a simple cross.

The cross was the symbol of Rome’s brutal authority. It was a grotesque means of punishment, learnt and adapted from the earlier Persian and Carthaginian civilisations. Rome would crucify rebels and thieves in this public form of torture. It was designed to instil fear, and keep its subjects in line. For a long time, it worked. Rome remained the dominant world power. But then, in a Judaean backwater, the humble son of a carpenter was crucified. This unjust act led to a spiritual revolution which would permanently reconfigure the symbolic meaning of the cross.

As I stood in the Colosseum, looking up at the cross, I was profoundly moved. Thousands of tourists every day probably have a similar experience. Two millennia have passed, the Roman Empire has crumbled to dust, but all over the world people worship and call upon the Christ as their Lord and Saviour. The cross, once a symbol of shame and embarrassment, has become the sign of salvation, and announces a new kind of power and wisdom in the world.

*  *  *

Over the past few weeks, we have been considering St Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. We have seen that their big problem is that they are divided. Some follow Paul, some follow Apollos, some follow Peter. Paul rebukes them for this, and accuses them of dividing the body of Christ. Instead, he says that they ought to share a common mind and purpose – they should be united.

The ground of their unity, says St Paul, should be none other than the cross: “we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (v23).

We need to understand how surprising this is. We have forgotten how scandalous the cross is. How would you feel walking into a building which hung an electric chair or a guillotine above its entranceway? Human societies do not usually unite around a symbol of shame, torture, and defeat. People usually unite around a common cause, such as the trade union movements of the nineteenth century, or a common enemy, such as the Western Allies during WWII.

St Paul knows that what he is teaching is strange. He knows that the cross is a sign of foolishness and weakness. But this is the way that God in Christ has chosen to identify with us, and to save us. We cannot avoid it. The Corinthians may be tempted to seek after eloquent wisdom, or displays of worldly power, but Paul is insistent that God has upended our human system of values: “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” (v25). This ‘foolishness’ and ‘weakness’ is the grounds of Christian unity both then, and now.

*  *  *

I believe that this is really good news. If we keep the cross central to our faith and practice, we may experience the sense of unity and shared fellowship that Paul desired for the Corinthians. I want to suggest two reasons for this.

The first is that it instils humility. We cannot claim to follow Christ through any wisdom of our own. Because our faith rests on God’s revelation to us in Christ, any boasting or superiority over others should be ruled out.

Unfortunately this isn’t always the case. It is staggering how easily Christians divide over things that they are overly confident of. An old joke by Emo Philips captures this perfectly:

Once I saw this guy on a bridge about to jump. I said, “Don't do it!” He said, “Nobody loves me.” I said, “God loves you. Do you believe in God?”

He said, “Yes.” I said, “Are you a Christian or a Jew?” He said, “A Christian.” I said, “Me, too! Protestant or Catholic?” He said, “Protestant.” I said, “Me, too! What franchise?” He said, “Baptist.” I said, “Me, too! Northern Baptist or Southern Baptist?” He said, “Northern Baptist.” I said, “Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist or Northern Liberal Baptist?”

He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist.” I said, “Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region, or Northern Conservative Baptist Eastern Region?” He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region.” I said, “Me, too!”

“Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1879, or Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912?” He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912.” I said, “Die, heretic!” And I pushed him over.

Sometimes in the church, you come across the idea that everyone needs to believe the same thing in order to be united. But the grounds of our unity is not human wisdom or understanding. It is the cross of Christ.

If we disagree in certain areas, perhaps one party is right, or maybe neither is, or, more usually, there is some truth to both perspectives. But God does not accept us based on our wisdom or understanding. He accepts us because of the cross of Christ. We ought to have the humility to accept as brother and sister all those who call upon the name of Christ, however different our respective beliefs are.

*  *  *

The second implication of keeping the cross central reminds us that all are welcome. It is not because of anything that we have done or achieved that we are welcomed into the body of Christ. It is because of Christ’s saving work on the cross.

There are many ways that we make distinctions and draw boundaries in our culture, whether along the lines of class, background, intelligence, race, gender, sexuality, or politics. But these distinctions must never be cause for exclusion from the church. Our unity is founded on Christ crucified, not any personal attributes of our own.

A passport tells us where we were born and where we belong. For the Christian, their passport is the cross. The cross tells us that we belong to God’s family, and that all are welcome here.

*  *  *

This morning, we are gathered as a joint Methodist and Anglican congregation in Dent. To paraphrase Paul’s message to the Corinthians, there aren’t that many of us here. We don’t look that impressive. We are not ‘high status’ in our society. But our willingness to worship together is a precious gift. We are united, not because we all think the same, but because God has revealed himself to us in the folly and weakness of the cross. We give thanks for this, and pray that we might continue to lay aside our own preferences in order to serve the wider body of Christ.

When the church forgets the humility of the cross, it becomes proud and arrogant. When it forgets the broad welcome of the cross, it becomes elitist and exclusionary. No wonder this quickly leads to division within the church, and enmity with the wider world. But in God’s wisdom, the instrument of torture has been transformed into the source of salvation. Love has overcome death, and this is a power that is able to heal the greatest wounds and deepest divisions.

I began with a story of encountering the cross in the ruins of a once great empire. Wherever we see the cross, it has power to change and transform us. We finish now by meeting the cross in song, as we sing together Isaac Watt’s famous hymn: When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.

Amen.