I've been reading in 1 Corinthians lately. Here's some of what I read and some of my thoughts about it.
1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
What does this mean? If I am perfectly eloquent in my expression, even in my writing, perhaps even if I can feel the Spirit guiding my words (speaking with the tongue of angels 2 Nephi 32: 2-3), then if I don’t have charity, I have problems. It is not enough to be eloquent, or even to say the right things. Charity is also required. Brass here tends to be translated as “gong.” No matter what one says, whether it’s in the tongues (or philosophy) of men, or in the tongue of angels (the truth), that isn’t enough. No matter how one speaks, whether it is loud and impressive like a gong, or small and delicate, like a cymbal, it isn’t enough. Charity takes us beyond what and how we speak into that which is meaningful.
2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
The gift of prophecy. It could either be the ability to prophesy (to get personal revelation) or it could mean having a testimony, (“for the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy” Rev 19:10). So, knowing that the church is true isn’t enough in and of itself.
Understanding all mysteries—could be deep doctrinal understanding. Or, it could be the temple ordinances (frequently referred to as mysteries, like in Nibley). So, deep gospel knowledge and knowing what we are told in the temple isn’t enough. Faith isn’t enough, either. Even if you had “all faith” and could move mountains, that wouldn’t suffice. Why is that? Could it be that all faith, believing and knowing God’s will isn’t enough? Do the sons of perdition have “all faith,” but no charity? Could this be a part of why God teaches us line upon line and precept upon precept? If we have all of the knowledge but don’t love with “the pure love of Christ,” love both God and man (for Christ demonstrated his charity for God and for man over and over again), could it ultimately undo us, and that’s part of why God gives us truth slowly?
3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
Wow. Strong words. Charity apparently doesn’t merely mean giving. You can give all your goods, and you can give your body to be burned, but that isn’t charity. So what is charity? It is interesting that the OED gives as its definition “Christian loves: a word representing caritas of the Vulgate, as a frequent rendering of …. In NT Greek.” So, the OED understands that charity isn’t “charitable giving’” it’s Christian love. The first definitions it gives are of God’s love to man (by early writers often identified with the Holy Spirit) and Man’s love of God and his neighbor, commanded as the fulfilling of the Law. In the vulgate, we read “Deus caritas est.” God is love. So, charity is the sort of love that God is. In Corinthians 13, Paul uses agape for charity.
Wikipedia—agape “Many have thought that this word represents divine, unconditional, self-sacrificing, active, volitional, and thoughtful love. In his book, The Pilgrimage, internationally acclaimed author Paulo Coelho defines it as "the love that consumes," i.e., the highest and purest form of love, one that surpasses all other types of affection. Greek philosophers at the time of Plato and other ancient authors have used forms of the word to denote love of a spouse or family, or affection for a particular activity.”
Agape is used a lot in the Septuagint as the translation of the Hebrew term for love between husband, wife and children, brotherly love, and God’s love for humanity.
Christ commanded “love” the Lord with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself (Matt 22:37-40). These are both agape, or charity. The love of God. So, how does God love? He so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son. He loves us so much that He created the world for us, that His work and His glory is our eternal life and exaltation. He loves us enough to send us prophets to teach us the truth. He loves us enough to make our lives filled with blessings to make us happy and trials to make us strong. He loves us even when we turn from Him, and tries to bring us back. He loves us like the perfect Father loves his children.
God the Son loves us so much that He gave his life for us. He loved us enough to take the pain that we could not bear. Each of us has more pain in our lives and eternities than we’d be able to bear—an eternity of shame and guilt over our own sins, and if Christ hadn’t come, we would have sinned more than we do now. His atonement helps strengthen us and keep us from sin. Each of our burdens were too heavy for one man to bear, and He shouldered them all. He suffered for us so that if we repent, we can share in His glory and become joint-heirs with Him. Truly, Christ does not seek his own.
Christ also showed great love toward the Father. He has loved the Father by obeying His commandments perfectly. As such, Jesus then asks us, if we love (agape no doubt) him, we will keep his commandments. (John 14:15)
How can we love with Christ’s love? We can serve them and try to brighten their days. We can do things that will put their interests ahead of our own. We can try to help them to know Christ and God, can encourage them to be better. Mostly, though, it seems that we are to lose our own interest in ourselves and focus on others. This is so foreign to most of us. An interesting note: the saints are to have this love. “By this shall men know ye are my disciples: if ye have love one to another” (John 13:35)
Tertullian, in his 2nd century defense of Christians remarks how Christian love attracted pagan notice: "What marks us in the eyes of our enemies is our loving kindness. 'Only look,' they say, 'look how they love one another'" (Apology 39)
4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things
This seems to be Paul’s definition of charity. How do you measure up? Christ definitely does. He suffered long and hard, was kind, was not proud or boastful of himself. He was always seemly, or in accordance with God’s commandments. He sought not his own, not the blessings that he deserved, or wanted to achieve. Instead, He willingly suffered the pains of Hell for us. He rejoiced in the truth, and never in iniquity. He bore all things, believed all things, hoped all things (and had a firm hope of eternal life), and He endured all things.
Sudden question: is this part of why Alma talks about being stripped of pride? If you are not, you are not prepared to meet God? Why? Because you have to be like God, and pride is the opposite of God’s charity. Pride and selfishness (uncharity) are two names for the same problem. It is a focus on the self, when we are to love and serve others.
Charity is pure in its thoughts. When you are charitable, you don’t think poorly of others, and you don’t think unworthy thoughts. Charity doesn’t rejoice in iniquity. This can be taken two ways. It doesn’t rejoice in doing iniquity, and it doesn’t rejoice when others are iniquitous. It wants what’s best for others.
Rejoicing in the truth. That’s where we want to be eventually. That’s where we want to come. We want our joy to come in and through God’s plan of happiness. To find joy in scripture study and the temple, to find joy in giving to others, to find joy in communion with God and Christ. That is what we want, although too often we view God’s commandments as things we have to do. Christ is perfectly happy, and do you know why? It is because he rejoices in the truth. He finds joy in the things of God, and so He’s always happy in carrying out His work and Glory. The promise is given to us that we can do the same. Perhaps this is why the ancient prophets are described as strangers in a strange country, they are “strangers and pilgrims on the earth” (Heb 11:13). They love the things of God more than the world, and so they do not fear death, nor the 2nd coming, nor the reinstatement of the law of consecration. They welcome it, they want it. They became so much a part of the culture of heaven that heaven is their home and here they are only strangers and pilgrims (pilgrims, perhaps because they are to come here to achieve something (get a body and ordinances) and then return home).
Perhaps charity is supreme because it includes faith, hope and endurance (7). You can’t have true charity without these other supremely important things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
What does this mean? Prophecies are given for a purpose. They are there in order to give us knowledge of the future. But prophecies ultimately end up becoming fulfilled and then they have, in a way, “failed.” Ultimately, there won’t be a need for further knowledge of the future. In God’s presence, we won’t need to be able to prophesy the future (probably), and even if prophecy is the testimony of Jesus Christ, this still might apply. When we get across the veil and stand in the presence of God, we will all know that Jesus is the Christ. “At the name of Jesus every knee should bow . . . and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord” (Phil 2:10-11). Testimony (at least as knowledge—if we’re talking Faith, this might be different), then, isn’t the end goal of all things. “the demons also believe and tremble” (James 2:19). So, then, given that all will know in the end, what’s the difference between the sheep and the goats? Who ends up on the right and left hand of God and why? In Matthew 25, the Savior boils it down to kindness and service. The righteous give food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, took in strangers, clothed the naked, comforted the sick and visited the imprisoned. This certainly has to do with charity, doesn’t it? This is true charitable giving—not just giving of one’s possessions, but giving as Christ would give. Don’t these descriptions sound like things Jesus actually did, or like things he did in his parables (like the good samaritan).
Likewise, knowledge will pass away. We can see this in worldly knowledge. Hardly a decade goes by without us realizing that the world is fundamentally different than we had thought. The knowledge of science is all passing away. But even our gospel knowledge will, in a way, pass away. In the end, God will reveal all secrets, and all knowledge of the earth to the faithful: “Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory. And to them will I reveal all mysteries” (DC 76:8). In the end, when we know in full, our paltry current knowledge will have passed away. It won’t really mean anything.
Tongues of course shall cease. Eventually, we know that we will speak the Adamic language again. There was once a pure and perfect language spoken on the earth, and if this is to be spoken again, then other languages will need to pass away. Thus, eloquence is not that important—like anything else on earth, it won’t last.
So, what in the end, never fails? Charity. This is both true of charity as Christ’s love (Christ will never stop loving us, and the product of that love, the atonement, will never fail) and of charity as the love that we are supposed to acquire. If we have become charitable, that will never fail us. We will always have our charity; charity will go with us when we die. And, by extension, if we have achieved perfect charity, we won’t fail anymore. We won’t sin. If we love (agape/caritas/charity) God and man perfectly, we will keep God’s commandments. Love God and love your neighbor, on these two hang all the law and the prophets. (Matt 22:36)
11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
So, verse 11 can be understood a couple of ways. One is that it’s a continuation of the previous discussion and says that just as when a child grows into a man he puts away childish things, so when we grow up in the gospel (perhaps go from children of God to gods ourselves, or at least when God reveals more to us), we will put away the things of this world and the lesser things that we have depended on. The second way is to say that charity is the growing up—it is the putting away of the selfishness of childhood, and only when we learn charity will we become men in the gospel sense. Wasn’t Jesus Christ “the man” (John 19:7), and isn’t our father in heaven “the man of holiness” (Moses 7:35)? Until we learn true charity, learn the ability to love God, Christ and man with purity and intensity and sincerity, we are still only children. We have still not progressed into the weightier matters.
Children are famously egocentric. I’m not sure which ones, but I’ve heard that there are scientific studies that show that small children aren’t even aware of other people. We’ve all had the thought in our childhoods that maybe all the rest of the world is just robots dressed as people. We’ve all experienced talking with children who can’t even conceive of another person having a different viewpoint. In the end, though, are we all that different from children? In comparison to Jesus Christ, who loved so perfectly and selflessly, we are even less than children. We are even more selfish and self-centeredly prideful than willful little children.
Verse 12 continues the discussion of our partial knowledge and sight. It also affirms the future perfection of knowledge and sight. I’m not entirely sure all of what “we see . . . darkly.” Is it the world or God or ourselves? Given that it’s a “glass,” or probably a mirror. It could be ourselves. We do not really know how childish and petty we are while in this life—frequently we think we’re pretty awesome. But in the end, when we pass through the veil and see how we really are, we will know who we are as God knows it. It’s a little like one of those tape recorders. The first time you listen to it, you hear your voice and realize how weird you sound. The first time you’re taped you realize how many annoying nervous ticks you have, you realize how bad of an actor you have, or you realize all of the times when you make mistakes in your musical performance. You don’t realize this until you see it, and it’s the same with our personal development. When we see God, we will realize how petty our lives have been. All of us need to be humble, all of us are of the dust (or even less, as the Book of Mormon suggests), but some people realize this before they see God and some don’t. By comparison to God and the other men of righteousness, we are all quite small. But it does matter that we recognize it now, because we don’t want to be part of those who “return to God, and behold his face, and remain in their sins” (2 Ne 9:38).
But I think it could be God, that we see darkly, too. We know God “in part” here on earth, but then we shall know Him even as He knows us. Isn’t that a nice thought?
“Abide” here is translated in the New Living Translation as “last forever.” Faith, hope and charity will last forever, but the greatest of them is charity. Perhaps, as mentioned earlier, because it really contains the other two. (Incidentally, hope here doesn’t seem to mean the worldly definition—it seems to be something more. The hope of eternal life? This isn’t the wishy-washy hope of today, which is just something we want but don’t think we’ll get. This is the hope of def. 1 of the OED: “expectation of something desired; desire combined with expectation”).
