NOTES for Co1 8:1-6

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.