Yesterday, I described a symposium in the city of Corinth, likely sponsored by a wealthy merchant. These gatherings often involved excessive drinking and would descend into debauchery, culminating in what was known as a “love meal.” Feasts in the Roman world were typically served in hierarchical layers. At a large-city feast, the wealthiest and most powerful guests—such as aristocrats, politicians, philosophers, and wealthy landowners—would eat first, dining together. Once they finished, they would leave, and the next group, such as the equestrians, dancers, and professional musicians, would take their place. This process would continue, with each subsequent group receiving less food and wine as the feast progressed. Finally, at the very end, slaves and freedmen might be allowed to eat whatever crumbs remained while cleaning up.

When Paul arrives in Corinth, he, along with the saints, participates in a “love feast,” but it is very different. This communal meal would later evolve into what we now call communion or the Eucharist. All believers, regardless of their social status, would sit and eat together, with both the powerful and the lowly serving one another as equals in Christ.

My friend, imagine then, a slave or a laborer who has become a Christian sitting beside an aristocrat or a politician. The politician takes the bread and the cup, turns to the slave, and says, “Brother, the body and blood of Christ, broken for you.” This radical act of humility and equality was transformative, reshaping the Roman Empire’s social fabric in ways difficult to overstate. This vision is that in Christ, divisions are broken down and all are welcomed at the same table.