NOTES for Co1 8:1-13

A person spends a large part of his life trying to acquire certain knowledge - formally beginning at age 7, though in fact much earlier, and at least until age 23, and often longer, he studies, studies, studies. For what? Ask any first grader why he goes to school, and he will answer, "To get knowledge." Knowledge, information, is the second most important capital in our civilization after money. And it should be noted that from this point of view the 21st century is no different from the 1st. The apostle Paul himself, as we know, was a very learned man. And suddenly, quite unexpectedly, we hear from him: "If anyone thinks that he knows anything, he does not yet know as he ought to know." What is this? How can it be? Does this mean that we spend most of our life acquiring knowledge, and it turns out that we know nothing?! And how ought one to know?

In fact, Paul's thought is very simple. Our dry, intellectual knowledge, memorized and learned by rote, on which we spend so much effort, is a treasure we acquire on earth, not in heaven. Before the face of God it is nothing; it will not bring us even one iota closer to the central mystery of Christianity, the mystery of the Lord's Cross and His Resurrection. From the point of view of rational logic, both are meaningless, paradoxical, and inexplicable. And no matter how many theological constructions we create, nothing will change in our life, because the essence of the Good News will remain an abstraction for us. The apostle points out only one path by which we can comprehend it: Love. There is indeed no logic in God's infinite and patient love for the world, love unto the Cross. It is only by His love that we are all alive, because our life is His gift, not according to our merits, but according to His Love for each of us. Simply because only by Christ, that is, only thanks to Him, do we all exist.

This means there is only one way to reach eternity, to make sure that our life has not been lived in vain: to carry into the world His love, which is the one treasure that can be gathered in heaven and not on earth. Does this mean that there is no need to study? Not at all. We simply must always remember what we live for and keep asking ourselves why we need this knowledge. We must remember that intellectual baggage is not the goal, but one possible means of becoming what God intended us to be. And we must also remember that we can receive true knowledge only in communion with God.

A significant part of Holy Scripture, especially the Old Testament, is devoted to what "ought to be done." How one ought to act, how one ought to build life and relationships with God and people, what is required, what is permitted, and what is harmful for a person. Yet this is connected with a serious problem that stands at the center of the New Testament: we are too fond of turning these ideas about what "ought to be done" into knowledge that looks like science, and then using it to judge others. The Lord Jesus Christ speaks of this more than once, and the apostle Paul speaks of it as well in First Corinthians. With the aphoristic style often characteristic of him, he writes: "...knowledge puffs up, but love builds up". The verbs in the Greek text are noticeably more vivid than in our Synodal translation: "...knowledge inflates, but love builds".

Indeed, knowledge of the commandments of Scripture as a religious system can turn you into an arrogant, inflated type of person whose only concern is to lecture others and point out their mistakes. Building up the Church, one of the key concepts in the apostle Paul's theology, requires more than simply knowing what "ought to be done"; it requires love. Behind these words lies a very important and profound understanding of the Church as the Body of Christ. More broadly, the meaningfulness of relationships among us, the justification of our existence, and life itself can be built only by us, and only through love. Righteousness, that is, conformity to what "ought to be done," is far from sufficient for this.

A considerable part of the Holy Scriptures, particularly - the Old Testament, is dedicated to "how it should be ". How should one act, how life and relationship with God and men should be built, what is obligatory, what is acceptable, and what is contraindicated to man. However, is connected to this a big problem being in the limelight of the New Testament: we too much like transforming these representations of "how it should be" into pseudoscientific knowledge, and with their help judge others. The Lord Jesus-Christ often speaks about that, and Apostle Paul speaks about it in the First Epistle to Corinthians. With an aphorism very often appropriate to him, he writes: "... Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth ". The verbs of the Greek text are noticeably more illustrious, than in our translation of the King James Version: "... Knowledge inflates, but charity builds".

Indeed, the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures’ precept as a religious system can transform you to a haughty (inflated) type, knowing only how to give lesson to others and show them their errors. The edification of the Church, one of the key notions of Apostle Paul’s theology, requires more than just knowledge of "how it should be ", it requires charity. Behind these words stands a very important and deep representation about the Church as about the Body of Christ. But is also wider: the meaningfulness of the relationship between us, the justification of our being and life itself can be built by us, and only by charity. Righteousness, that is conformity to "how it should be ", is by far not sufficient for that.

On the basis of the Greek text, Paul’s words can be understood in two ways: either a person confident in his knowledge does not really know anything, or all the knowledge of such an expert, whatever and however much he may know, is worth nothing compared with the true knowledge of which he has no idea. In essence, here the apostle returns again to the theme of poverty that he has already touched on more than once in his letter to the Christians of Corinth. He also returns to the theme of “foolishness for Christ’s sake,” or, more precisely, to what this world considers foolishness when it looks at Christians and their life. For the poverty of which Paul speaks after Jesus Himself, and of which one of Israel’s great prophets, Isaiah of Jerusalem, had spoken centuries before Christ came, presupposes a corresponding attitude not only toward property or social status, but also toward knowledge, religiosity, piety, and even one’s own ascetic “achievements.”

For God’s poor person, none of these things has independent value, including knowledge: not only theoretical and speculative knowledge, but even mystical experience, which at first glance reveals far more than any speculation. God’s poor person understands perfectly well that all these things in themselves, including knowledge and even mystical experience, do not bring him closer to God. To be in God’s presence is the one thing in spiritual life that has meaning and significance, and it does not depend on the human being. A person can only ask for such nearness and strive toward it, but he cannot attain it or earn it by his own powers in such a way that it would belong to him by right or by merit.

And if that is so, then any human knowledge as such is worth nothing; and the person who thinks that he knows something, first, does not understand what is chief and real in spiritual life, and second, is mistaken by taking for real what is not real. The second, as a rule, follows from the first. This is the spiritual delusion of which the apostle reminds us, considering it quite dangerous: for it creates the illusion of spiritual life and a spiritual path where in fact there is neither the one nor the other.

In Gospel times there were many religions in the pagan world. And Paul, of course, knew this very well: he was born in Tarsus, a pagan city. In his life he had to see many different gods and cults. And he does not try to deny their existence at all, but only gives them the proper assessment. "So-called gods," he says of them. And he adds: in the world there are indeed many gods, and many lords too. But God with a capital letter is one. In this way the apostle defines the attitude of Christianity, and of monotheism in general, toward paganism.

Christians, like other monotheists, look at religious life quite realistically. It is pointless to deny what is reality for a pagan. In the end, gods are generated not by nature but by man. He creates gods for himself in his own image and likeness and makes them his lords, although it seems to him that these gods exist for his sake, that they protect him and help him.

In practice, however, it turns out that he cannot live without them. The gods created by human imagination really become lords for a person, his masters, not imaginary at all but quite real. And only the true God, the One with a capital letter, frees a person. This is no wonder: fallen man will not create for himself gods that could free him from himself. That would most resemble trying to pull oneself out of a swamp by one's own hair. The true God is different: man did not create Him. On the contrary, He created man, and only He can save His creation and free it from sin.

Only people do not always understand this. Fallen man is still more accustomed to his own gods. They may not always be able to help, but they do not demand that he give up a fallen but familiar and customary world. The true God, in saving, will lead him into His Kingdom. There is no other way to help a person. And here one must decide on serious change, or remain with one's own gods, one's own sins, and one's own masters.

Continuing the discussion of love and freedom, Paul points to the fact that in the Kingdom one is inseparable from the other. For him, true knowledge is found in this unity. For a citizen of the Kingdom, knowledge is not simply information about how things stand, but also an understanding of how to use that information so as not to cause spiritual harm to one's neighbor.

The Church is not a scientific organization whose goal is to learn and describe the laws of spiritual life as fully as possible. It is a community of citizens of the Kingdom, whose main task is the salvation of everyone who wants to be saved. To solve this task, especially given the damaged state of fallen human nature, healing is at times more important than instruction. In that case, every kind of knowledge has to be viewed from a therapeutic standpoint: will it help a brother who is not yet spiritually strong become stronger and take root in the life of the Kingdom, or will it instead inflict a wound on his soul from which he may need more than one day to recover? Food for spiritual life is certainly not the decisive factor, but what if the question of food becomes a stumbling block for those who are not yet ready for the fullness of the Kingdom's freedom (vv. 8-9)? Their bodies, of course, will not be defiled by food, but pangs of conscience over a committed sin, even an imagined one, can indeed defile their soul and hinder them on the spiritual path (v. 7).

The principle of the "natural Torah" works here as well: just as God judges Gentiles according to the level of their moral development, so He judges religious people according to the measure of their religiousness. If a religious person, outwardly imitating the spiritual freedom he does not in fact possess, begins to violate norms and rules that in his heart he considers binding for himself, that violation becomes a real sin for him. In this way, displaying spiritual freedom to those who are not ready for it can prove spiritually destructive for them (vv. 9-11).

This is no surprise, since spiritual freedom is not exactly the same as freedom of choice in our world, which has not yet been transformed. Here it is only a possibility; there it is already realization. If a person does not yet know how to use the possibilities that life in the Kingdom gives him, he is better off using the measure of freedom he can bear without being spiritually broken. Everyone else needs to take this measure into account if they do not want to harm their neighbor and destroy the work begun by the Savior (vv. 12-13).

So-called food offered to idols was a fairly serious problem for the first Christians. The problem was that one church community could very well include both Jews and recent pagans. At the same time, it is important to remember that the mass paganism of the Gospel era was no longer a deeply religious phenomenon. Those whom we call pagans would more accurately be called simply secular people; most of them, before turning to Christ, thought little about religion, if they thought about it at all. Such people habitually ate the food familiar to them, without thinking at all, and perhaps having completely forgotten, that formally the meat bought, for example, in the city market had been dedicated to the gods who patronized that very market.

The result was that formally all food sold in the markets was dedicated to pagan gods; it was all food offered to idols. But the recent pagans who had turned to Christ were no more troubled by this than they had been before their conversion. They simply did not think about any gods or any religion when buying food in the city market, either before conversion or after. Jewish Christians, however, took everything much more seriously. They never bought meat or other products in the city market; they had their own shops, where all products were guaranteed kosher.

Of course, after the coming of Christ, everything described above no longer had fundamental significance, all the more for pagans, from whom no one had ever demanded observance of kashrut. Nevertheless, when Jews and recent pagans found themselves at one table, it could happen that food formally dedicated to pagan gods appeared on that table. And if such a dedication meant exactly nothing to the former pagans and changed nothing, for Jews the situation was clearly a stumbling block. They could not shake the thought that they were sinning against God by eating food dedicated to pagan gods, and their conscience condemned them, although objectively they had no reason for concern. In such a situation Paul advises that this kind of concern not be ignored. One should not put a brother in a situation that is difficult for him and fraught with temptation if it can be avoided. Of course, the question can arise: how far can the demands of those who are scandalized by one thing or another go, and what is truly worth giving up in order to meet someone else's religious scrupulousness?

The answer is not hard to find in the apostle's letter: there the question concerns things that are spiritually indifferent to the one ready to make an accommodation. Things that do not touch the essence of his spiritual life. For a recent pagan, for example, it made no difference at all whether the meat on the table was kosher or had been bought in the city market. In that case it is better to meet the one to whom it does matter halfway, because the recent pagan's spiritual life does not suffer in the least from such a step.

But the spiritual life of his Jewish brother can suffer: constant inner discord does not contribute to normal spiritual life at all. This is the general rule Paul advises following: a person who is less religiously scrupulous should yield to one who is more religiously scrupulous insofar as such concessions do not destroy his own spiritual life. Then many problems of church life will resolve themselves, and there will be more peace in church gatherings.