Today the Apostle Paul is laying down a certain pattern of living for all who pastor Christian communities.  His major point seems to be that Apostles are worth their wages.  Evidently, these were some in Corinth who disagreed.  They were willing to pay other men for lesser services, but not the Apostle through whom Christ offered the gift of healing, immortality, and perfection.  It is not hard to imagine the discussions this community probably had on this subject: it is so easy to attack Christian leaders with the charges of hypocrisy and worldliness.  “After all,” folks might say; “our Gospel teaches that the way to perfection is through humility, self-sacrifice, and service to others.  It teaches that we should do good without any expectation of reward.  Shouldn’t those who teach us model this kind of behavior themselves?”

The answer is, of course: “yes.”  Christian leaders, be they lay ministers, board members, music leaders, cantors, subdeacons, priests, bishops, and even the very Apostles themselves must exhibit Christian virtues.  On a personal note, it was a violation of this rule that was one of the last straws of my involvement with our old Protestant parish in Ohio: we hired a Choir director based entirely on his talent as a director, without consideration of the known fact that he did not believe in Christ. 

There is not doubt that leaders who behave badly do a great deal of damage.  But St. Paul’s virtue (much less his faith in Christ) was not in question here: he was (and remains) a model pastor. 

Just as our faith compels us to give our second coat to the man who has none – despite the fact that he should be meek and humble enough to be happy with the rags he has – so to does our faith require us to offer what we can to those who lead us, despite the fact that their calling and monastic tonsure obligate them to be satisfied with nothing but our scorn.  If we leave the beggar in his rags and scorn our leaders, pastors, and bishops, their faith will sustain and perfect them; but ours will condemn us. 

St. Paul uses practical examples from everyday life (such as how we pay soldiers when we send them to war and allow famers and shepherds to subsist off the results of their labor), as well as historical precedents and logic to defend his right to compensation.  St. John Chrysostom points out that these comparisons are apt because there is no doubt that St. Paul fought the enemy as hard as any soldier, raised as much fruit as any farmer, tended his flock as well as any shepherd, and served as diligently as any other man before him.  And from strictly utilitarian grounds, is there any doubt that Corinth – and every Christian community that can afford it– is better off with full-time pastors, priests, and bishops?

But I want you to note what St. Paul does next: he takes a simple argument about the righteousness of clergy compensation, and turns it into a way to teach a more general and far more important principle.  After establishing his right to wages, he does not ask for them.  You see, rather than drive away those foolish children who would think him a hypocrite if he accepted pay for his voluntary Christian service, he did not accept pay from them.  The general principle that he is teaching is that we do not do things that will drive others away from Christ, even if we are entitled to them.  This is because we are far more concerned with bringing people into contact with the Risen Lord Jesus Christ than with our own rights.  Because of our love and thankfulness, we want others to experience the peace and joy of Orthodoxy more than any thing else that we may have earned.

While this principle has numberless applications in our everyday life, let me share a couple that I have seen put into practice:  we know that there is nothing wrong with drinking in moderation, but if we lived in a culture that associates drinking with immorality, then we would not drink in public, lest people associate our Lord with immorality.  We know that there is nothing wrong with married priests, but some in our community have a hard time with the concept of a priest being married; so when Pani and I are around such people, we do not show each other the same affection that we might around those of you whose faith is more mature.  These do not become general rules in and of themselves: we do not become teetotalers (or celibate!).  We hope that their faith will mature to match ours, but no matter what, the pastoral principle is always operative: we live so that others might learn the Truth.  We do not allow our actions to become stumbling blocks that impede people on their Way to Christ.  May God grant us the discernment and strength to put this principle into practice.