In the fourteenth chapter of the Apostle Paul’s First Epistle to the Corinthians—preserved in the Apostolicon of the Testamentum—we are confronted with a powerful contrast that remains just as vital for the Church today as it was in the earliest days of the Gospel: the contrast between the gift of prophecy and the empty knowledge of worldly philosophers.
As Paul teaches, “he that prophesieth speaketh unto men to edification, and exhortation, and comfort” (1 Corinthians 14:3). This gift—given by God the Father—is not rooted in scholarly training or the complex reasoning of this present age, but in the simple and divine truth revealed directly by the Spirit. It is no accident that the Apostle places the prophetic gift above the tongue of learned men and the boast of philosophers, for prophecy flows from divine illumination, not from the corrupted wisdom of this world, which Paul elsewhere declares to be “foolishness with God” (1 Corinthians 3:19).
To understand Paul’s warning, we must first define what is meant by prophecy. A prophet is not merely a foreteller of future events, but one who has received revelation from God the Father—truth not deduced by reason, but imparted by grace. This truth often contains insight into future realities, but it also exposes the hidden things of the heart and reveals what is eternally true. Because this knowledge is divinely given, it carries with it certainty. Unlike the wisdom of men, which is fallible and ever-changing, the wisdom of God is perfect, immutable, and transparent.
Indeed, Paul contrasts this divine simplicity with the opaque and convoluted words of human sophistry. Sophistication, complexity, and abstraction—the hallmarks of worldly rhetoric—often serve only to veil truth, not unveil it. This aligns with the Marcionite understanding that the false deity depicted in the Hebrew Bible, is saturated with confusion and deception. As Paul says, “God is not the author of confusion, but of peace” (1 Corinthians 14:33). True prophecy, then, is marked by clarity, simplicity, and resonance with the soul’s divine origin.
This is why the Apostle rebukes those who prefer mysterious utterances and unknown tongues: “In the church I had rather speak five words with my understanding… than ten thousand words in an unknown tongue” (1 Corinthians 14:19). For what good is it to speak in lofty riddles if the assembly cannot be edified? Paul is not merely criticizing linguistic confusion—he is condemning the pride of those who prefer complexity for its own sake. In Marcionite theology, this pride reflects the arrogance of the false deity of the Hebrew scriptures, who delights in hidden laws, coded rituals, and confusing oracles. God the Father, by contrast, speaks plainly, directly, and lovingly.
This divine plainness is not to be confused with shallowness. As Paul reminds us, the Lord’s words, though simple in form, are rich in substance. Even the parables of Jesus—though cloaked in imagery—are designed to pierce the heart, not to conceal the truth. Hence, the Savior’s declaration: “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.” The complexity lies not in the language, but in the spiritual depth, accessible only to those attuned to the Spirit. This is precisely what distinguishes divine wisdom from the verbose posturing of philosophers, whom Paul so often rebukes. The Marcionite Church recognizes that Paul’s epistles were written in direct response to the prideful thinkers of his age—Stoics, Platonists, and Sophists alike—who “professing themselves to be wise, became fools” (Romans 1:18).
The Sophists, in particular, exemplify this error: they traded clarity for flair, substance for style. But as Paul insists, style must never overshadow truth. “Let all things be done unto edifying” (1 Corinthians 14:26). Truth, in the Marcionite view, must be intelligible to all the faithful, not merely to an elite class of educated scribes or rabbis—those whom Paul decried as the “ministers of death” (2 Corinthians 3:6).
This contrast—between divine prophecy and human philosophy—is not merely rhetorical. It reveals a deeper law of spiritual life: that form must never obscure substance. A sermon clothed in ornate vocabulary may impress the intellect, but it will never feed the soul. Conversely, a message expressed simply yet flowing from the Spirit will convict, console, and call forth true repentance. Paul urges the Corinthians—and us—to favor prophecy precisely because it speaks to the spirit, not merely to the mind.
We are reminded of a powerful image: just as a man’s appearance does not determine his inner worth, so too the form of a message does not guarantee its truth. A man in a fine robe may be a fool, while one dressed in rags may be a saint. In the same way, a sermon full of elegant phrases may be hollow, while a few words spoken in love and truth may transform the heart. This is the divine logic of the Gospel—not the logic of the world.
Brothers and sisters, let us therefore resolve, as the Apostle commands, to seek the greater gifts—not those which puff up, but those which build up. Let us desire prophecy. Let our words be few but filled with truth. Let our speech reflect not the wisdom of this age, but the Spirit of God the Father who sent His Son to rescue us from the dominion of false gods and bring us into the light of truth.
Let your discourses be marked not by complexity, but by depth. Not by obscure riddles, but by clear testimony. Not by pride, but by charity.
For God the Father is not found in tangled words, but in the pure proclamation of the truth.
Amen.
