In the thirteenth chapter of the First Epistle to the Corinthians—preserved in the Apostolicon of the Testamentum—the Apostle Paul presents what may be the most profound and enduring insight in the entire Christian tradition: that above faith and hope stands charity—the most authentic expression of divine love.
Paul does not speak here of mere affection, nor of sentimentality or earthly desire. What he calls charity (agapē) is not born of this world. It is not carnal, emotional, or possessive. It is the very manifestation of the love of God the Father, who sent the Son not in wrath, but in mercy, not to condemn, but to redeem. This love is not found in the tumult of religious law or the jealous fury of the false god of the Hebrew Bible, but in the quiet, infinite gentleness of the true God revealed in Jesus Christ.
Paul begins by showing us that charity is the only thing that gives meaning to all spiritual gifts. Without it, eloquence becomes noise, knowledge becomes pride, and sacrifice becomes empty. He then describes this charity not through grand declarations, but through a series of humble negations: “Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up” (1 Corinthians 13:4). It does not seek to dominate, to control, or to parade its virtue. It is gentle. It waits. It does not insist.
This form of teaching, as Paul employs it, is apophatic in nature—a theology of what is not. And rightly so, for divine charity is not to be confused with the exuberant passions of the soul or the theatrical displays of modern religiosity. It is not “love” as defined by the world—rooted in need or gratification—but love as defined by God the Father: self-emptying, non-possessive, free.
In this sense, charity reflects the very being of the Father. It is quiet and hidden, so much so that many mistake its silence for absence. But it is in that silence that its strength lies. Just as God the Father does not compel belief by thunder or decree, but invites by grace, so too charity exerts no force and expects no return. It gives without demanding, and by giving, it frees.
The Apostle affirms that charity “doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil” (1 Corinthians 12:5). In the Marcionite tradition, this love is a direct revelation of the foreignness of God—that He is wholly unlike the jealous, wrathful god of the Hebrew Bible. Unlike that false deity, who boasts, punishes, and binds humanity in law, God the Father liberates. His love is a mirror, not a chain.
This is why Paul declares that charity surpasses even the foundational virtues of faith and hope. “And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity” (1 Corinthians 13:13). Faith trusts in God, hope longs for God, but charity is the very life of God made present among us.
Brothers and sisters, let us take seriously Paul’s call to internal stillness and outward gentleness. In this passage, Paul is not building a doctrine—he is pointing us to a disposition, a way of being. He is inviting us to renounce the superficial self—the self that clings, that competes, that postures—so that charity may take its place. For only in dying to that false self can the Spirit of God the Father dwell within us.
This is why we must resist the temptation to dominate others in the name of guidance or truth. True charity allows the other to be free. It waits in silence to be received rather than forcing itself upon the will. It is, in this sense, the most divine of all spiritual virtues—because it imitates not only the way of Christ, but the nature of His Father.
To practice charity, then, is not to be passive—it is to be fearless. It is to release control. It is to be at peace even when misunderstood, overlooked, or rejected. This can only happen when the spirit has been emptied of pride and relaxed from striving. Paul’s vision of charity is not a doctrine to memorize, but a presence to embody.
So let us, every Sunday and always, strive not to be the chain that binds, but the mirror that reflects. Let us love with the love that God the Father has shown us through Jesus—not because we expect something in return, but because in giving, we participate in His eternal nature.
Amen.
