For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with the wisdom of human eloquence, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its meaning.
1 Corinthians 1:17
This verse from the readings for this past weekend is the one that grabbed my attention. It did so because it left me with questions.
What does Paul have to say to me with the words “Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel” (1 Cor. 1:17)?
He did baptize people, didn’t he? Verses 14 through 16 say he did. So why does he say Christ didn’t send him to baptize? It seems to me that he provides the answer in verse 13. One question in that verse reminds the flock in Corinth it isn’t in his name that they come together. It isn’t in his name that they share what they have with those who have less. It isn’t in his name that they forgive one another and love and pray for those who persecute them. It isn’t in his name that they share their spiritual gifts. Rather, it’s in Christ’s name that they do all these things, as it was in Christ’s name that they were baptized, not in Paul’s. Christ worked through earthly leaders of the Church in Corinth to baptize people. None of those leaders were acting on their own behalf.
This first part of the verse also reminds me that while different members of Christ serve different functions within his mystical body, (for example, some regularly baptize new members, while others normally don’t) all members are called to preach the gospel — and not just with words. Conveying the limitations of language seems part of the message of the verse’s second half: “and not with the wisdom of human eloquence, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its meaning”[italics mine] (1 Cor.1:17).
Even Christ’s words, by themselves, didn’t keep sin and the suffering that resulted from having the final say. The words themselves didn’t unite to himself and to one another anyone who wanted to be united. His death on the cross and the resurrection that followed made that possible. He carried our wounds and our weaknesses to the fullest extent he could — to the point of death. He was victorious after he offered his life on the cross. But in the final hours of that pre-resurrection life, when he spoke at all, he didn’t tell parables or give sermons as he once had. He spoke in short phrases.
Jesus’ words prepared hearers to receive the union with the Divine that he would offer through his body on the cross and through His Spirit on Pentecost.
The words themselves didn’t complete the adoption, yet they paved the way for the proceedings. Nevertheless, despite the important role words sometimes play in bringing us closer together as members of Christ’s family, and of the human family Paul writes that “human eloquence” can empty the cross “of its meaning (1 Cor. 1:17).
How can this happen?
One answer is that words themselves are a means of dividing the people, ideas, and objects they represent into categories that separate one thing from another. Language distinguishes between an apple and an orange, between people from one tribe or place and another. Language defines an “us” and a “them.” It names God and the elements of God’s creation. Such differentiation has its place because recognizing our differences can help us learn from each other and grow in humility. Certainly recognizing that we are not God can help with the latter.
But problems arise when we let ourselves believe that the ways we are different from other people make us better than them. This belief won’t let us celebrate others as the unique reflections of God that they are. Problems also arise when we get so focused on the challenges that our differences present that we don’t recognize what we have in common. Third, problems arise when we focus so much on our separateness from God that we don’t grow in our relationship with God. These problems are some forms sin can take.
The effects of sin are the opposite of the effect of the cross of Christ, which has the power to close the painful gaps we create between ourselves and others and between ourselves and God. Is this closure complete? No, because each of us has to receive healing (the reception of which sometimes means carrying crosses of our own) so that we can share it again and again. Also, this healing is not complete because we haven’t yet reached the end of time as we know it.
And there’s another reason besides the frequent divisiveness of “human eloquence” that can empty the cross “of its meaning” (1 Cor. 17). Human eloquence can have this effect when it isn’t supported by action — which is not to say that words cannot be actions in and of themselves. Sometimes words can help us comprehend the full meaning of actions. Yet they can also be attractive but devoid of meaning. Presenting an eloquent argument in favor of one solution to a problem doesn’t, in fact, solve the problem. For that to happen, someone has to put the solution into action. Talking about giving someone a meal or a drink of clean water is not the same as actually providing it. Eloquent prayers and reflections by themselves are empty unless they are accompanied by actions. And yet, it can feel so much easier to talk about doing something and to tell someone else to do something than to participate in doing it myself
Lord, help me to recognize how I can be an answer to prayers today. Amen.
The Bible.The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc. “Sunday July, 2 2023: Readings at Mass.” The New American Bible, 2001. Universalis for Windows, Version 2.179, Universalis Publishing Ltd., 26 Feb. 2023, https://universalis.com/n-app-windows.htm
When I heard the above statement this weekend, it stood out to me what the sentence doesn’t say. It doesn’t say, “My sheep hear my words.” It doesn’t say “My sheep hear my teachings,” and it doesn’t say, “My sheep hear my instructions.” It says, “My sheep hear my voice. [Italics mine]”
A voice isn’t an idea. It isn’t a string of ideas forming a message. Like the many human inventions that it surpasses, it’s a carrier for the message. It can be small and brittle like a glass bottle. It can be warm and gentle as a May breeze, as harsh and loud as the ship’s whistle or as gravelly as the air in a worn parking lot on a gusty March day.
Words can say one thing while the voice that delivers them says the opposite. One voice can be similar to another, but no voice is exactly the same. (At least I think this last statement is true. I’m far from a voice scientist. I’m only writing from my experience.) To communicate with another living creature using one’s voice can be a powerful and intimate experience — intimate, I think, because the process that voices use to communicate is only partly a conscious one. A familiar quality of a certain voice can touch us in ways we can’t quite put into words.
. . . I know them, and they follow me.
John 10:27
That’s why I find it so fitting that John 10:27 says “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me” God reaches us in ways that go beyond any means — words being one — that we use to create order around us. God speaks with the voice of the Spirit and gives us the ears of the Spirit to hear that voice. That’s what I thought when I found the picture I’m including with this post. To me, the picture looks like a flame in the shape of an ear. This image reminds me that the ears of the spirit are sensitive to the vibrations of Divine Love and that the heart of the Spirit responds to this Love by sharing it.
Work cited
The Bible. The New American Bible Revised Edition, Kindle edition, Fairbrother, 2011.
Sitting with the Sacred 