Paul’s two letters to the Corinthians are not for the casual reader. They are essentially a long list of admonitions - nagging elevated to the level of scripture. Many of his views, especially his insistence on women’s subservience to men, have aged about as well as unrefrigerated milk. They’ve also fueled a good deal of human misery along the way, which makes them more dangerous than simply quaint. Thinking people can safely ignore most of this.
And yet, right in the middle of all the finger-wagging, we stumble upon Chapter 13, the famous hymn to love. It feels almost out of place, as if someone else snuck it in while Paul wasn’t looking. Poetic, timeless, and almost disarmingly beautiful, it shines in sharp contrast to the rest of the text, which is dry, dated, and frankly exhausting.