Homily 27 — First Corinthians 11, verses 17 to 27

“But in giving you this charge, I do not praise you, because you come together not for the better but for the worse.” [a]

In looking at the present charge, we must first state what gave rise to it; that way, again, our discussion will be easier to follow. What, then, was the occasion?

Among the three thousand who believed at the beginning, everyone ate their meals together and held everything in common. Something like this was still the practice when the apostle wrote these words. It was not exactly the same, but a kind of stream from that fellowship which had lived among the first believers had flowed down to those who came after them. Since, naturally, some were poor and others rich, they did not put all their goods into the common store. Instead, it seems, they opened their tables to all on set days. When the solemn service was over, after they had shared in the mysteries, they all went to a common meal. The rich brought the food with them, the poor and destitute were invited by them, and everyone ate together.

But later this custom too was corrupted. The reason was that they had split apart and attached themselves, some to this party and some to that, saying, “I belong to so-and-so,” and “I belong to so-and-so.” It was to correct this that he said at the beginning of the letter, “For it has been made clear to me about you, my brothers and sisters, by those of Chloe’s household, that there are quarrels among you. What I mean is this: each one of you says, ‘I belong to Paul,’ and ‘I belong to Apollos,’ and ‘I belong to Cephas.’”

Not that Paul was the one they were attaching themselves to; he would never have put up with it. But wanting to tear this custom out by the roots, he put himself into the list by way of concession. He was showing that if anyone broke away from the common body and wrote even Paul’s name on himself, the thing done was still profane and the height of wickedness. And if it was wickedness in his case, how much more in the case of those who ranked beneath him!

So this custom had been broken down — a most excellent and most useful custom. It laid a foundation for love, it was a comfort to poverty and a check on wealth, it gave occasion for the highest philosophy, and it taught humility. Since he saw such great advantages on the way to being destroyed, he naturally speaks to them severely, saying, “But in giving you this charge, I do not praise you.” [c]

In the earlier charge, since there were many who kept the traditions, he began differently, like this: “Now I praise you, that you remember me in all things.” Here it is the reverse: “But in giving you this charge, I do not praise you.” And this is why he did not place it right after his rebuke of those who eat food sacrificed to idols. That rebuke was unusually harsh, so he put the discussion about wearing long hair in between. That way he would not have to pass from one set of sharp reproofs straight to another set that would give offense, and so seem too harsh. Then he returns to the sharper tone and says, “But in giving you this charge, I do not praise you.”

What charge is “this”? The one I am about to tell you of. And what does “in giving you this charge, I do not praise you” mean? “I do not approve of you,” he says, “because you have forced me to give you advice. I do not praise you, because you have needed instruction about this, because you need a warning from me.” Do you see how, from the very beginning, he shows that what was being done was deeply profane? For when someone who goes wrong should not have needed even a hint to keep him from going wrong, his error would seem to be past pardon.

And why do you not praise them? “Because you come together,” he says, “not for the better but for the worse” — that is, “because you are not going forward in virtue. Your generosity ought to have grown and multiplied. Instead you have cut back the custom that was already in place, and cut it back so far that you even need a warning from me to return to the old order.”

Further, so that he would not seem to be saying these things only on account of the poor, he does not plunge straight into the subject of the tables. That would have made his rebuke something they could easily come to think lightly of. Instead he searches out the most shaming and fearful word there is. For what does he say?

Verse 18: “For first of all, when you come together in the church, I hear that there are divisions among you.”

He does not say, “You do not eat your suppers together,” or, “I hear that you feast privately and not with the poor.” Instead he set down what was most likely to shake their minds to the core: the word “division,” which was the cause of this mischief as well. And so he reminded them again of what was said at the beginning of the letter, what had been “made clear by those of Chloe’s household” (First Corinthians 1, verse 11).

“And I partly believe it.”

So that they could not say, “But what if the accusers are lying?”, he does not say, “I believe it,” for fear of making them all the more reckless. Nor, on the other hand, does he say, “I do not believe it,” for fear of seeming to rebuke them for nothing. Instead he says, “I partly believe it” — that is, “I believe a small part of it.” This makes them anxious, and invites them to come back and set things right.

Verse 19: “For there must also be factions among you, so that those who are approved may be made plain among you.” [f]

By “factions” he means here not those that concern doctrine, but these present divisions. But even if he had been speaking of heresies in doctrine, he would still not have given them any excuse. Christ himself said, “Stumbling blocks must come” (Matthew 18, verse 7). He was not destroying the freedom of the will, or laying any necessity and compulsion on human life. He was foretelling what would certainly follow from people’s evil minds — what would happen not because of his prediction, but because those who are incurably disposed have their minds set that way. These things did not happen because he foretold them; he foretold them because they were certainly going to happen. If stumbling blocks came by necessity, and not by the choice of those who bring them in, it would have been pointless for him to say, “Woe to that man through whom the stumbling block comes.” But we discussed these things at greater length when we were on that passage itself; now we must go on to what lies before us.

That he said these things of the factions over the tables, of that quarreling and division, he made clear from what follows as well. Having said, “I hear that there are divisions among you,” he did not stop there. He showed what divisions he meant by going on to say, “Each one goes ahead and takes his own supper,” and again, “What? Do you not have houses to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God?”

So it is plain that he was speaking of these. And if he calls them divisions, do not be surprised. As I said, he wants to sting them with the word. Had they been divisions over doctrine, he would not have spoken to them so mildly. Listen to him, for example, when he speaks of anything like that — how forceful he is, both in declaring and in rebuking. In declaring, as when he says, “Even if an angel preaches to you any good news other than what you have received, let him be accursed” (Galatians 1, verse 8). In rebuking, as when he says, “You who would be counted righteous by the law have fallen away from grace” (Galatians 5, verse 4). At one time he calls the corrupters “dogs,” saying, “Beware of the dogs” (Philippians 3, verse 2); at another, men “whose consciences are seared as with a hot iron” (First Timothy 4, verse 2); and again, “angels of Satan” (Second Corinthians 11, verses 14 and 15). But here he said nothing of the kind; he spoke in a gentle and quiet tone.

But what does “so that those who are approved may be made plain among you” mean? That they may shine all the more. What he means is this: those who are steady and firm are so far from being harmed at all by this that it actually shows them up more clearly and makes them more glorious. For the words “so that” do not always point to a purpose; often they point to how things turned out.

Christ himself uses them this way when he says, “For judgment I have come into this world, so that those who do not see may see, and so that those who see may be made blind” (John 9, verse 39). So too Paul, in another place, discussing the law, writes, “And the law came in alongside, so that the trespass might increase” (Romans 5, verse 20). But the law was not given for the purpose of increasing the Jews’ trespasses, though that did follow; nor did Christ come so that those who see might be made blind, but for the opposite. Yet that was how it turned out. In the same way, then, we must understand the words here, “so that those who are approved may be made plain.” Heresies did not come into being for the purpose that “those who are approved may be made plain”; but once the heresies had arisen, that was the result.

Now he said these things to comfort the poor — those of them who bore that kind of contempt nobly. That is why he did not say, “so that they may become approved,” but, “so that those who are approved may be made plain.” He shows that they were such people before this too, but they were mixed in with the crowd; while they enjoyed the relief the rich gave them, they did not stand out much. But now this strife and quarreling had made them plain to see, just as a storm shows who the real helmsman is.

And he did not say, “so that you may appear approved,” but, “so that those who are approved may be made plain” — those among you who are such. For when he accuses, he does not expose them, so as not to make them more reckless; and when he praises, he does not name them, so as not to make them more boastful. He leaves both statements open, and lets each person’s own conscience apply what he says.

Nor does he seem to me to be comforting only the poor here, but also those who were not breaking the custom. It is likely that there were some among them who kept it. And this is why he said, “I partly believe it.” So he is right to call these people “approved”: not only did they keep the custom along with the rest, they kept this good law unbroken even without them. And he does this because, by such praise, he is trying to make both the others and these people themselves more eager.

Then at last he adds the actual form the wrong took. And what is it? [i]

Verse 20: “When you come together,” he says, “it is not possible to eat the Lord’s Supper.”

Do you see how powerfully he appeals to their sense of shame, and how, even while he is only describing what happens, he manages to give them his advice? “The look of your gathering,” he says, “is one thing. It is a gathering of love and brotherly affection. At least one place receives you all, and you are together in one flock. But when you come to the banquet, it bears no resemblance to the assembly of worshipers.”

And he did not say, “When you come together, this is not eating in common,” or, “this is not feasting with one another.” He rebukes them another way, and much more fearfully, saying, “It is not possible to eat the Lord’s Supper.” From this point he sends them back to that evening on which Christ handed on the awe-inspiring mysteries. That is also why he called this early meal “a supper.” For that supper, too, had them all reclining at table together. And surely the distance between the rich and the poor was not as great as the distance between the Teacher and the disciples, for that distance is infinite. But why do I say the Teacher and the disciples? Think of the gap between the Teacher and the traitor. Yet the Lord himself sat at table with them, and did not even throw him out; he gave him his share of salt, and made him a sharer in the mysteries.

Next he explains how “it is not possible to eat the Lord’s Supper.”

Verse 21: “For in your eating,” he says, “each one goes ahead and takes his own supper, and one is hungry and another is drunk.”

Do you see how he hints that it is rather themselves they were disgracing? What is the Lord’s, they make a private matter. So they are the first to suffer the insult, since they rob their own table of its greatest privilege. How, and in what way? Because the Lord’s Supper — that is, the Master’s — ought to be shared. What belongs to the master does not belong to this servant and not to that one; it belongs to all in common. So by “the Lord’s” Supper he means exactly this: that the feast is shared. It is as if he had said: “If it is your Master’s, as it certainly is, you ought not to take it off for yourself as private property. Since it belongs to your Lord and Master, you ought to set it before everyone in common. That is what ‘the Lord’s’ means. But as it is, you do not let it be the Lord’s, because you do not let it be shared; you feast by yourself.”

That is why he goes on to say, “For each one goes ahead and takes his own supper.” He did not say “cuts off,” but “goes ahead and takes,” quietly faulting them both for greed and for haste. What comes next shows this, at any rate. For having said this, he added, “and one is hungry and another is drunk.” Each of these showed a lack of moderation: both the craving and the excess.

See here a second fault as well, by which these same people are harmed. The first is that they dishonor their supper; the second, that they are greedy and drunk — and, what is still worse, while the poor are hungry. What was meant to be set before all in common, these men ate by themselves, and went on to gorging and drunkenness. That is why he did not say, “one is hungry and another is full,” but, “another is drunk.” Now each of these deserves blame even on its own. It is a fault to be drunk even without despising the poor, and to despise the poor without being drunk is a charge against you. When both are joined together at once, think how enormous the offense is!

Next, having pointed out their profaneness, he adds his rebuke in what follows, with great anger:

Verse 22: “What? Do you not have houses to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God, and shame those who have nothing?”

Do you see how he shifted the charge from the insult to the poor to the insult to the church, so that his words would strike them with deeper disgust? Here, you see, is a fourth charge: that not only the poor, but the church as well, is insulted. Just as you make the Lord’s Supper a private meal, so you make the place private too, using the church as your house. For it was made a church not so that we who come together might be divided, but so that those who are divided might be joined; the very act of assembling shows it.

“And shame those who have nothing.” He did not say, “and starve those who have nothing,” but, to make them blush far more, “shame them.” He is pointing out that it is not the food he cares about so much as the wrong done to them. Look, a fifth charge again: not only overlooking the poor, but even shaming them. He said this partly out of respect for the feelings of the poor, showing that they are grieved not so much for their stomachs as for the shame; and partly also to move the hearer to compassion.

So, having pointed out such great impieties — the insult to the Supper, the insult to the church, the contempt shown to the poor — he eases the tone of his rebuke again, saying all of a sudden, “Shall I praise you? In this I do not praise you.” Here one might especially wonder at him. Just when there was need to strike and scold more forcefully, after proving such great offenses, he does the opposite: he gives way and lets them catch their breath. What, then, can the reason be? He had wounded them more painfully than usual in pressing the charge home. And, being a most excellent physician, he fits the cut to the wound. He does not cut shallowly where a deep stroke is needed — you heard how he cut off from among these very people the man who had committed sexual immorality — nor does he hand over to the knife what calls for milder remedies. That is why here too he handles his address more mildly. There was another reason as well: he especially wanted to make them gentle toward the poor, and that is why he speaks to them in a quieter tone.

Next, wanting to shame them still more from another direction, he takes up once again the things that matter most of all, and weaves his argument from them. [k]

Verse 23: “For I received from the Lord,” he says, “what I also handed on to you: that the Lord Jesus, on the night in which he was betrayed, took bread.”

Verse 24: “And when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘Take, eat. This is my body, which is broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’”

Why does he mention the mysteries here? Because that argument was very necessary for his present purpose. It runs like this: “Your Master,” he says, “counted everyone worthy of the same table, though it is most awe-inspiring and far beyond anyone’s worth. But you consider them unworthy even of your own table, small and poor as we see it is. They have no advantage over you in spiritual things, and yet you rob them in the things of this life. For these are not your own either.”

He does not put it that way, however, so that his words will not become harsh. He frames it more gently, saying that “the Lord Jesus, on the night in which he was betrayed, took bread.”

And why does he remind us of the time — of that evening, and of the betrayal? Not casually, nor without reason, but to pierce their hearts deeply with sorrow, if only by thinking of the time. For even if someone is a very stone, when he thinks about that night — how he was with his disciples, “deeply distressed,” how he was betrayed, how he was bound, how he was led away, how he was judged, how he suffered everything else in turn — he becomes softer than wax, and is drawn away from the earth and all the pomp of this world. That is why he leads us to remember all those things by his time, his table, and his betrayal, putting us to shame and saying, “Your Master gave up even himself for you, and you will not even share a little food with your brother, for your own good.”

But how can he say that he “received it from the Lord”? He was certainly not there then; he was one of the persecutors. He says it so that you may know that the first table had no advantage over the one that comes after it. For even today it is he who does it all, and he hands it on just as he did then.

Nor is this the only reason he reminds us of that night; he means to pierce our hearts in another way too. We remember especially the last words we hear from those who are dying. And when their heirs dare to break their commands, and we want to shame them, we say, “Remember that this was the last word your father spoke to you. Right up to the evening when he was about to breathe his last, he kept repeating these instructions.” In just the same way Paul, meaning to fill his argument with awe from this side as well, says: “Remember that this was the last rite of the mysteries he gave you. On that night, when he was about to be slain for us, he commanded these things; and after he had handed that Supper on to us, he added nothing more.”

Next he goes on to recount the very things that were done: “He took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘Take, eat. This is my body, which is broken for you.’”

So if you come to a sacrifice of thanksgiving, do nothing on your part that is unworthy of that sacrifice. Do not dishonor your brother, and do not neglect him in his hunger; do not get drunk; do not insult the church. As you come giving thanks for what you have received, so make a return yourself, and do not cut yourself off from your neighbor. For Christ, for his part, gave to all alike, saying, “Take, eat.” He gave his body to all alike — and will you not share even ordinary bread alike? Yes, it was broken for all alike, and became the body for all alike.

Verse 25: “In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’”

What are you saying? You are making a remembrance of Christ, and you despise the poor and do not tremble? Why, if a son or a brother had died and you were holding a remembrance for him, your conscience would strike you if you had not kept the custom and invited the poor. And when you are making remembrance of your Master, will you not even simply give them a share of the table?

But what does he mean by “This cup is the new covenant”? That there was also a cup of the old covenant: the drink offerings and the blood of animals without reason. After sacrificing, they used to catch the blood in a cup and a bowl and then pour it out. Since, then, he was bringing in his own blood in place of the blood of beasts, he reminds them of that ancient sacrifice, so that no one would be troubled on hearing this.

Next, having spoken about that Supper, he joins the present to that time, so that people now might be moved just as if they were there on that very evening, reclining on that very couch, and receiving this sacrifice from Christ himself. And he says: [m]

Verse 26: “For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”

When Christ spoke of the bread and the cup, he said, “Do this in remembrance of me.” In this he revealed to us why the mystery was given, and, besides whatever else he said, he declared that this was reason enough to ground our reverence on. (For when you consider what your Master suffered for you, you will deny yourself all the more.) In the same way Paul says here, “As often as you eat, you proclaim his death.” And this is that Supper. Then, to show that it remains until the end, he says, “until he comes.”

Verse 27: “Therefore whoever eats this bread and drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will be guilty of the body and the blood of the Lord.” Why so? Because he has poured it out, and makes the thing look like a slaughter and no longer a sacrifice. Those who pierced him then did not pierce him in order to drink his blood, but in order to shed it; and the one who comes to it unworthily, and gets no benefit from it, does the same.

Do you see how fearful he makes his words, and how severely he attacks them? He shows that if they drink in this way, they partake of the bread and the cup unworthily. For how can it be anything but unworthy, when it is the man who neglects the hungry? The man who not only overlooks him but puts him to shame? If not giving to the poor throws a person out of the kingdom, even if that person is a virgin — or rather, not giving generously, for those virgins too had oil, only they did not have it in abundance — think how great the evil will be of having committed so many acts of impiety!

But you ask: “What acts of impiety?” Why do you ask what acts of impiety? You have shared in such a table, and when you ought to be gentler than anyone, and like the angels, you have become crueler than anyone. You have tasted the blood of the Lord, and not even then do you recognize your brother. What pardon, then, do you deserve? Even if you had not known him before this, you ought to have come to know him from the table. But now you dishonor the table itself: he was counted worthy to share in it, and you do not count him worthy of your food.

Have you not heard how much the man suffered who demanded the hundred denarii, and how he lost the gift that had been given him? Does it not come into your mind what you were and what you have become? Do you not remind yourself that if this man is poor in possessions, you were far more of a beggar in good works, full of ten thousand sins? Yet God delivered you from all of them and counted you worthy of such a table. And you have not become more merciful even so. Then of course nothing is left but for you to be “handed over to the torturers.”

Let us listen to these words too, all of us — all of us who in this place come up to this holy table with the poor, but when we go out seem not even to have seen them, and get drunk, and pass the hungry by without a thought. These are the very things the Corinthians were accused of. [o]

You ask: “And when does this happen?” At all times, indeed, but above all at the festivals, when it ought least of all to happen. Is it not true that at those times, right after communion, drunkenness follows, and contempt for the poor? You have partaken of the blood, and when it is time for you to fast and keep watch, you give yourself up to wine and wild revelry. And yet if you happen to have made your morning meal on something good, you are careful not to spoil its taste with some other food that tastes bad. But now that you have been feasting on the Spirit, you bring in satanic luxury.

Think what the apostles did when they had shared in that holy Supper. Did they not turn to prayers and the singing of hymns? To sacred vigils? To that long work of teaching, so full of every kind of self-denial? For it was then that he told them and handed on to them those great and wonderful things, when Judas had gone out to call those who were about to crucify him. Have you not heard how the three thousand as well, who shared in communion, continued in prayer and teaching, not in drunken feasts and revels?

But you fast before you partake, so that in some way you may seem worthy of communion; and when you have partaken, and ought to increase your self-control, you undo everything. And yet it is not the same thing to fast before and to fast after. Though it is our duty to be self-controlled at both times, it is most of all after we have received the Bridegroom: before, so that you may become worthy to receive; after, so that you may not be found unworthy of what you have received.

“What, then? Ought we to fast after receiving?” I do not say this, and I am not forcing anyone. That would indeed be good; but I do not insist on it. What I urge is that you do not feast to excess. For if a person ought never to live in luxury — and Paul showed this when he said, “She who lives for pleasure is dead while she lives” (First Timothy 5, verse 6) — much more will she be dead then. And if luxury is death to a woman, much more is it to a man; and if it is fatal at other times, much more after the communion of the mysteries.

Having taken the bread of life, do you do a deed of death and not shudder? Do you not know how many evils luxury brings in? Laughter out of season, disorderly talk, clowning that leads to destruction, useless trifling, and all the other things it is not decent even to name. And you do these things after you have enjoyed the table of Christ, on the very day on which you were counted worthy to touch his flesh with your tongue!

What, then, is to be done to prevent these things? Purify your right hand, your tongue, your lips, which have become a threshold for Christ to tread on. Consider the time when you drew near; and when you set out a table of ordinary food, raise your mind to that table, to the Supper of the Lord, to the vigil of the disciples on that night, that holy night. Or rather, if one looks at it carefully, our present state is itself night. Let us keep watch, then, with the Lord; let us be pierced to the heart with the disciples. It is the season for prayers, not for drunkenness — always, indeed, but especially during a festival. For a festival is appointed not so that we may behave shamefully, nor so that we may pile up sins, but rather so that we may wipe out the ones we have.

I know, indeed, that I say these things in vain; yet I will not stop saying them. For if you do not all obey, surely you will not all disobey. Or rather, even if you all disobey, my reward will be greater, though your condemnation will be greater too. But so that it may not be greater, I will not stop speaking. For perhaps, perhaps, by keeping at it I will be able to reach you.

So I beg you, let us not do this to our condemnation. Let us feed Christ, let us give him drink, let us clothe him. These things are worthy of that table. Have you heard holy hymns? Have you seen a spiritual marriage? Have you enjoyed a royal table? Have you been filled with the Holy Spirit? Have you joined in the choir of the seraphim? Have you become a sharer with the powers above? Do not throw away so great a joy. Do not waste the treasure. Do not bring in drunkenness, the mother of dejection, the joy of the devil, the parent of ten thousand evils. From it come a sleep like death, a heavy head, disease, forgetfulness, and a picture of the state of the dead. And further: if you would not choose to meet a friend while you were drunk, then when you have Christ within you, tell me, do you dare to force so great an excess in upon him?

But do you love enjoyment? Then for that very reason stop getting drunk. I too want you to enjoy yourself, but with the real enjoyment, the kind that never fades. What, then, is the real enjoyment, always in bloom? Invite Christ to dine with you (Revelation 3, verse 20). Let him share in what is yours — or rather, in what is his own. This brings pleasure without limit, forever in its prime. But the pleasures of the senses are not like this. As soon as they appear, they vanish; and the one who has enjoyed them is no better off than the one who has not — or rather, he is worse off. For the one is settled, as it were, in a harbor; but the other exposes himself to a kind of torrent, a besieging army of diseases, and has no strength to hold out against even the first swell of the sea.

So that it may not be this way with us, then, let us pursue moderation. For in this way we will be in good health of body, we will keep our souls in safety, and we will be delivered from evils both present and to come. May we all be delivered from them and attain the kingdom, through the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.