1 Corinthians 13:1 - Homiletics

Eloquence without charity.

"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." Two introductory truths are suggested by the context.

1. That there is great diversity in the talents with which Heaven has endowed mankind. There are "diversities" of gifts. Whilst it is true that the apostle refers especially to miraculous gifts, those very gifts have their equivalents amongst men now. True, we have no miraculous gifts of tongues; but we have great linguistical scholars, men who are the masters of many languages. Though we have no miraculous gifts of prophecy, we have men of such a far sighted sagacity as to discern the signs of the times, and. foretell events destined to occur on the earth. Though we have not the miraculous gifts of healing, modern medical science invests some men with a healing power in some respects approaching the miraculous. In sooth, the unmiraculous endowments of the present day, exhibited in the various evolutions of art, science, philosophy, are more than an adequate compensation for the loss of the miraculous endowments of apostolic times. Some men are distinguished by one faculty and some by another. Some by the faculty of creating thought, some by the faculty of combining thought, some by the faculty of oratorically presenting thought. These faculties exist in various degrees of strength; in some they are dwarfish, in some gigantic.

2. That without charity the highest kind and degree of talent is of little worth. Indeed, in this chapter Paul says, in relation to the highest faculties, and to the highest services, that without this charity man himself is nothing: "I am nothing." Now, the text directs attention to one particular faculty, and that is eloquence. "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels." Angels speak. Perhaps Paul had heard their oratory when he was caught up into heaven. He means, though he had eloquence of the highest type, without charity, it would be utterly worthless. Two thoughts are suggested.

I. That it is POSSIBLE FOR ELOQUENCE OF THE HIGHEST TYPE TO EXIST WITHOUT CHARITY . Why say, "possible"? It has ever existed and still exists, dissociated from this charity, this queen of virtues, or rather this root of all moral excellence.

1. We find it in party politics. Read the party speeches delivered at the hustings or in the House of Commons. Some of those speeches are fashioned after the highest models of oratory, and delivered with all the graces of the art, but utterly destitute of charity. They beat with selfish ambition and burn with envious spleen.

2. We find it in party theology. Some of the discourses on polemic theology are, in all the attributes of true eloquence, unexcelled if not unmatched; but how destitute of charity! They are all aglow with acrimonious zeal for certain dogmas of the brain.

3. We find it in party Churchism. During the month of May men appear on the platform of Exeter Hall who have spent many a laborious day, or week, it may be, in preparing a speech on behalf of some cause, before whose brilliancy the author hopes all other speeches will pale their fire. Read the most eloquent of these speeches; and for the most part how destitute of charity! Sect zeal reigns in all. The Protestant damns the Catholic, the Evangelical the Ritualist, the Church sneers at Dissent, and Dissent at the Church, and all agree in consigning pagans and heathen of every grade to nethermost perdition. The spirit of all the speakers, as a rule, at those busy manifestations of eloquence, is, "We are the wise men, and wisdom will die with us; the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, are we."

II. That eloquence of the highest: type without charity is UTTERLY WORTHLESS . It is as "sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." The word ἀλαλάζον , from ἀλαλὴ or ἀλαλὰ , a war cry, properly denotes a loud cry or shout, such as is used in battle. Whilst the sound is anything but pleasant, the material is comparatively worthless, made of two pieces of common brass. The idea is worthlessness. Take the speech of a man whose idea of eloquence shall excel the theory of Quintilian, and whose practice shall excel that of Demesthenes himself; what is it if it has not charity? Paul would say, "brass," giving out a mere clanking sound.

1. It is worthless in itself. What would you give for two little pieces of brass forming a cymbal? Whatever their marketable value may be, for musical purposes they are not worth a "penny whistle." What worth is there in an organism unless it has life? and what worth is there in sentences, however eloquent, unless they have charity? There is no moral worth in any act or word apart from charity. In the sight of Heaven all else is mere rubbish. Without it, I with all my endowments, services, sacrifices, says Paul, am "nothing."

2. It is worthless in its influence. The sounds you get out of the "cymbal" are not musical, and they produce rather an irritating than an inspiring or calming influence upon the listener. What moral good can speeches without charity accomplish? They may shed some light upon the intellect, correct some error, but they have no power to win the soul of a man. They often irritate, but never soothe. Bigoted partisans are attracted by the clankings of their brass, but men pass by them as by a Punch and Judy show. Eloquence without charity is like the roar of a winter's northeaster, irritating and destructive; but eloquence with charity is like the quiet southwester in spring, warming all things into life and touching all things into beauty.