Paul's Problem and Ours: The Homily for January 25, 2026

Note: This homily was sent electronically to the members and friends of Trinity Church, Asheville, NC on the

morning of January 25 when much of the southeast was covered in ice and snow and church was cancelled.

1 Corinthians 1:10-17

10 Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose. 11 For it has been reported to me by Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters. 12 What I mean is that each of you says, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” 13 Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul? 14 I thank God that I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius, 15 so that no one can say that you were baptized in my name. 16 (I did baptize also the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I do not know whether I baptized anyone else.) 17 For Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power (1 Corinthians 1:10–17, NRSV).

The Homily

From the very beginning, the church has struggled with togetherness. Worshiping Christ is not the hard part. Doing it together is. The Corinthians are discovering what Christians have discovered in every generation since: believing in Jesus is one thing; belonging to one another is another.

Paul writes with urgency:

“I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose.”

He has heard reports—credible ones—that the community is breaking into factions. “I belong to Paul.” “I belong to Apollos.” “I belong to Cephas.” Even the claim “I belong to Christ” becomes a way of separating oneself from others rather than being joined to them.

Paul responds with sharp questions: Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?

The answer seems obvious. Their identity does not come from personalities, preferences, or parties. It comes from Christ—and from Christ crucified. Paul even minimizes his own role in baptizing them, lest anyone confuse Christian faith with loyalty to a particular leader.

But here is the deeper issue Paul is addressing: the Corinthians have allowed the values of the surrounding culture to shape the life of the church. Corinth was a competitive, status-driven city. 

Public life revolved around power, rhetoric, influence, and allegiance. Whether they realized it or not, the church absorbed those habits. It began ranking voices, elevating some, dismissing others, dividing itself the way the world divides.

Paul insists that this cannot be so.

“The message of the cross,” he says, “is foolishness to those who are perishing.” The cross dismantles the world’s systems of worth. It does not reward dominance or cleverness or strength. It reveals a God who refuses the world’s logic of power and instead chooses self-giving love.

And that is where this passage presses hard on us—because the church today faces the same temptation.

We live in a culture that increasingly normalizes contempt. Public discourse rewards outrage. Political life thrives on division. We are taught—daily—to reduce people to caricatures, to judge their worth by their views, their tribe, their usefulness, or their conformity to our own beliefs. Social media thrives off this division. The algorithms are intentionally created to cause outrage.

And the great danger is this: that we begin to believe this is simply how things are—and then the danger of course is that we bring it with us into the church.

But brothers and sisters, let it not be so.

If the world believes it is acceptable to treat others with contempt, we do not.

If the world believes disrespect is justified, we do not.

If the world believes it is right to measure a human being’s worth by ideology, productivity, power, or purity, we do not.

The church is not meant to echo the world’s divisions. It is meant to contradict them.

This does not mean the church is apolitical, or possesses no boundaries when it comes to behavior. We are still out to discern how we shall live as Jesus’s disciples. 

Yet, the church is deeply political—because it insists that every human being is created in the image of God, worthy of redemption, and dignity. That claim stands in judgment over every system that dehumanizes or degrades. This is the foundation upon which all our politics begin and it is the foundation upon which we must demand that our secular politics begin. 

We cannot simply import the tone of our current political and social discourse into the Body of Christ. We cannot call cruelty conviction. We cannot excuse contempt as “just telling the truth.” The cross of Christ gives us no such permission.

Instead, the church is called to be a living sign of another way of being human together. The way we speak to one another here—especially across deep disagreement—is itself a form of witness. 

Not because we agree, but because we refuse to deny one another’s humanity.

And all of this comes to its sharpest focus at the communion rail.

Because in a few moments, we will gather at the altar. And when we do, we will not be asked who we voted

for, what we believe, or whether we are right. We will be invited simply to hold out our hands.

At the rail, Christ does not sort us into factions.

At the rail, Christ does not reward the righteous and exclude our enemies.

At the rail, Christ gives himself—broken and poured out—for all.

Here, we are made one body not by agreement, but by grace. Here, we receive again the foolish wisdom of the cross—a wisdom that tells us our life is not found in winning, but in giving ourselves away.

We come to this rail, this table, not because we have earned our place, but because Christ has invited us. Together.

And having been fed by him, we are sent into the world to live differently—to speak differently, to see differently, to love differently—to change the world.

This is what it means to be disciples of Jesus.

This is the politics of the cross.

This is the unity Paul pleads for and in this way we understand what Paul means when he says, 

“Agree with one another.” 

“Let there be no divisions among you.”