The gifts he gave were the Apostles and also the evangelists (Ephesians 4:1-7, 11-13)

Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians

Ephesians 4:1–7

¹Therefore, I, a prisoner in the Lord, urge you to live a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, ²in all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in charity, ³striving to maintain the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace. ⁴There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the same hope when you were called. ⁵There is only one Lord, one faith, one baptism, ⁶a God, Father of all, who is above all, who acts through all, who is in all. ⁷But to each one of us grace has been given according to the measure of Christ's gift.

Ephesians 4:11–13

¹¹It is he who also made some apostles, others prophets, others evangelists, others pastors and teachers, ¹²for the equipping of the saints, for the work of ministry, for the building up of the body of Christ, ¹³until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God, becoming mature, attaining to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ,

Imagine a letter arriving from prison. Not a letter of complaint, not a cry for help—a letter that speaks of unity, peace, and patience. Paul writes from his cell, in chains, and yet it is not of his chains that he speaks. He speaks of one body, one body, where everyone has their place, where no one is superfluous, where no one is sufficient on their own. He lists those whom Christ has given to his Church as gifts: apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers. Each receives a portion of grace, a measure tailored to them, no more, no less. And the purpose of all this—this diversity of gifts, this plurality of roles—is not division but building up. A structure that grows, stone by stone, until all together, in the same faith, we become that mature stature, that full measure of Christ.

Unity cannot be decreed; it is built by many.

How a chained prisoner becomes the freest witness to Christian unity

This letter shows that the true unity of the Church does not come from uniformity, but from the diversity of gifts put at the service of the same Body.

This text is intended for anyone who feels alone in their mission, who doubts they have a real place in the Church, or who struggles to accept that others have received gifts different from their own.

Paul writes from his prison cell, yet he never speaks of himself. He speaks of a body that needs all its parts to live. He lists vocations—apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers—and shows that each one serves to build what no one could build alone. This text speaks of humility, patience, and a common goal: to grow together to the stature of Christ.

Context

Paul wrote this letter while imprisoned, probably in Rome, around 60 AD. His imprisonment was directly linked to his preaching: he himself says he was suffering "for the Lord's sake." This detail is not a trivial biographical detail. It lends the entire letter its weight and credibility. A man who writes about unity and patience while personally paying the price for his faithfulness is not writing theory. He is writing about his experience.

The church in Ephesus to which Paul was writing was not a small, isolated community. Ephesus was one of the largest cities of the Roman Empire in Asia Minor, a major commercial and religious crossroads, famous for its temple dedicated to the goddess Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. In this cosmopolitan city, Jews and converted Gentiles, people of all backgrounds and social classes, lived side by side. Establishing a united Christian community in such an environment was no easy feat.

The recipients of this letter came from very different backgrounds. Some had grown up in the Jewish tradition, steeped in the Scriptures since childhood. Others came from paganism, without any biblical culture, accustomed to multiple cults and a morality quite different from that offered by the Gospel. This diversity of origins made the question of unity particularly pressing: how could such different people form a single body?

It is precisely at this point in the letter, in chapter 4, that Paul makes a turning point. The first three chapters of Ephesians are doctrinal: Paul unfolds a magnificent vision of God's plan, of election in Christ, of reconciliation between Jews and Gentiles united in one Body. From chapter 4 onward, the letter becomes practical. Paul moves from what God has done to what believers must live. "I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received": this is the pivotal moment. All the preceding theology must now be embodied in concrete actions.

For the first listeners of this letter, hearing these words in the assembly must have had a particular impact. They knew that Paul was in chains. They also knew that their community, like so many others, was experiencing tensions: rivalries between groups, hierarchies of prestige based on origin or wealth, the temptation to value certain gifts more than others. Hearing a man in captivity ask them for humility and patience carried a moral weight that could not be ignored. This was not a comfortable leader lecturing from his palace. This was a man who had lost everything—his freedom, his comfort, his security—and who, since that loss, continued to believe that unity was worth fighting for.

The chosen liturgical passage combines two movements from this chapter: the initial call to humility and unity (verses 1-7), followed by the list of gifts given by Christ to build up the Church (verses 11-13). Between these two sections, Paul develops a meditation on Christ's descent and ascension, which explains the origin of these gifts. The lectionary focuses the text on its essential elements: the call to unity and the concrete way in which God makes it possible through the diversity of vocations.

I'm abandoned, I find myself alone — then someone comes along and puts everything back together.

The inner movement of the text, and why it directly concerns us.

This passage follows a very simple and very human movement: first the fragility of a group threatened by division, then a gift that comes from the outside, then a patient reconstruction that makes possible what no individual could accomplish alone.

Let's take the most commonplace example: that of a human group—a family, a work team, a parish—that begins to fracture. Everyone pulls in their own direction. Some feel more important than others. Some withdraw, discouraged by a lack of recognition. This is precisely the threat Paul perceives in Ephesus, and which he has always perceived in every human community: fragmentation looms as soon as each person ceases to see themselves as part of a whole.

Faced with this threat, Paul doesn't offer internal regulations or an abstract code of conduct. He proposes, first and foremost, inner attitudes: humility, gentleness, patience, and loving mutual support. These are virtues that come at a price, because they require relinquishing the need to always be right, to always be the center of attention. But Paul doesn't stop at a vague moral appeal. He anchors this requirement in something much more solid: a given reality. "There is one body and one Spirit… one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all." The word "one" appears seven times in just a few lines. This isn't a goal to be achieved through our efforts. It's a fact already accomplished by God, which our behavior simply needs to respect and reflect.

This is where the text takes a decisive turn: after affirming this already established unity, Paul introduces the diversity of gifts. And this is where the true originality of the passage lies. One might think that unity requires uniformity—that everyone does the same thing, believes in the same way, occupies the same place. Paul says exactly the opposite. «To each one of us grace has been given according to the measure of Christ’s gift.» Each receives a different measure, a different gift, a different place. And it is precisely this diversity, placed at the service of the same body, that enables its building up.

The image of the body, developed at greater length elsewhere in the Pauline letters, particularly in 1 Corinthians 12, finds its practical application here. A body is not a collection of identical parts repeated ad infinitum. It is a collection of different organs, each with a precise function, all necessary to one another. The eye cannot tell the hand that it does not need it. No gift, however humble it may seem, is superfluous.

This movement—from the threat of fragmentation to building up through the diversity of gifts—finds its fulfillment in the Gospel itself. Before ascending to heaven, Christ did not leave his disciples without resources. He gave them people, vocations, and charisms to continue his work. This is the profound meaning of these verses: the Church is not a void that people must fill by their own strength, but a body already provided by Christ himself with everything it needs to grow.

Why does this text still matter today? Because each of us, at one time or another, wonders if our place truly counts. We all know the temptation to compare our gifts to those of others, to find them insufficient, or conversely, to overvalue our own contribution at the expense of others. This text directly addresses this temptation: your place is not to be compared, it is to be inhabited, because it is essential to the building of the whole.

What does "maintaining unity" really mean when you don't even want to stand each other?

Pauline humility is not a passive virtue; it is a daily choice of renunciation.

Paul begins his list of virtues with humility, and this choice is not insignificant. In the Greco-Roman world of the first century, humility was not considered a virtue. Rather, it was a sign of weakness, of social inferiority, almost a source of shame. The great virtues of antiquity were magnanimity, strength, and honor. By placing humility at the top of his list, Paul effects a true revolution in values.

This Pauline humility finds its source in the contemplation of Christ himself, developed a few lines later in the same chapter: the one who descended before ascending, the one who humbled himself before being exalted. Christian humility is therefore not self-deprecation or a lack of self-esteem. It is a voluntary disposition to place oneself at the service of others, following the example of the one who, being God, became a servant.

In practical terms, within a family, Pauline humility takes the very simple form of accepting that the other person is right on a point where one thought oneself to be right. In a parish, it takes the form of accepting that a project one cared about may not be chosen, without holding a grudge against those who decided otherwise. In a work team, it takes the form of recognizing the competence of a colleague who may be younger or less experienced on paper, but whose judgment is sound.

The gentleness that follows humility in Paul's list is not a weakness of character. The Greek word used, praotēs, referred in antiquity to controlled strength—that of a trained horse, powerful yet docile. Christian gentleness is therefore a strength that chooses not to impose itself, a power that restrains itself out of love. It is a virtue far more demanding than mere superficial kindness.

Then comes patience, and the expression Paul uses next is particularly powerful: «Bear with one another in love.» The Greek verb anechomai, to bear, to endure, conveys the idea of a burden that one continues to carry despite weariness. Paul isn't asking us to spontaneously like everyone. He knows that community life involves living with people whose character, flaws, and ways of being sometimes weigh us down. He asks us to continue bearing this burden, out of love, without shirking it.

This requirement resonates very concretely in our lives: in a couple, there are days when one must literally put up with the other—their silences, their awkwardness, their fatigue—without this meaning that one no longer loves them. In a parish community, there are people who are difficult to be around, whose character is jarring, and yet we continue to welcome them because the love of Christ does not discriminate based on their agreeableness.

What Paul is building here is a pedagogy of unity that rejects two false solutions. The first false solution would be distance: separating ourselves from those who disturb us, choosing a community of affinities where everyone is alike. The second false solution would be oppression: imposing uniformity through authority, silencing differences through coercion. Paul proposes a third way, far more demanding: remaining together, in diversity, patiently bearing the friction that this diversity entails.

Why no one received "all" the donations — and that's intentional

The logic of the measure given by Christ reveals a divine pedagogy of interdependence.

Paul writes a sentence of extraordinary density: "To each one of us grace has been given according to the measure of Christ's gift." This sentence deserves our attention because it contains a complete theology of gift in a few words.

First, grace is given to everyone. No one is excluded. In the Pauline vision, there is no Christian without a gift, no baptized person who is useless. This statement should be enough to dispel any feeling of spiritual uselessness. If you are baptized, you have received a measure of grace, tailored for you, with a specific function in the Body.

Furthermore, this grace is given «according to a measure.» This word is crucial. It means that no one receives everything. No one possesses the entirety of the gifts. Each person receives a portion, tailored, limited, and specific. This limitation is not a flaw in divine generosity; on the contrary, it is the means by which God makes people necessary to one another. If a single person could do everything—teach, govern, evangelize, prophesy, serve the poor, celebrate the sacraments—communion would no longer be necessary. Everyone could live in isolation, self-sufficient. This is precisely what God does not want.

This logic resonates deeply with the most ordinary human experience. No human being is born self-sufficient. A child needs their mother for nourishment, their father for protection, and their educators to learn to speak, walk, and think. This original dependence never completely ceases: even as adults, we continue to need others to live, to understand, and to grow. God, by distributing his gifts in partial measures, inscribes this fundamental law of human existence into the very functioning of the Church: we need one another.

Then comes the list of gifts enumerated in verse 11: apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers. This list deserves to be detailed because it describes concrete functions that existed in the early Church and that, in adapted forms, still structure church life today.

The apostles are first and foremost those who were direct witnesses of the risen Christ and sent by him to found the Churches. The prophets are those who receive a specific message to edify, exhort, and comfort the community—not soothsayers predicting the future, but inspired spokespeople for the present. Evangelists are those who bring the Good News to people who do not yet know it, crossing geographical and cultural boundaries. Pastors are those who accompany, guard, and nourish the flock already gathered, with attentive care. Teachers transmit, explain, and deepen the faith received, giving believers the means to understand and live it.

What is striking about this list is its diversity of temperaments and tasks. The apostle establishes foundations, the prophet challenges, the evangelist goes outward, the pastor watches over the inner life, the teacher builds for the long term. None of these vocations replaces the others. All are necessary simultaneously, like different organs of the same living body.

From the diversity of roles to shared maturity: what the Church is truly building

The ultimate goal is not efficient organization, but the likeness of Christ taken together.

Paul concludes this passage with an essential clarification about the purpose of all these gifts: they are given "so that the tasks of ministry may be accomplished and the body of Christ built up, until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the stature of the fullness of Christ."«

This ultimate goal deserves careful consideration, because it defies a purely functional reading of the preceding list. One might think that Paul is describing here a simple, efficient organization, a division of tasks like a company organizational chart. But the objective he sets forth goes far beyond the question of smooth institutional functioning. The objective is collective spiritual maturity—to become, all together, the stature of Christ in his fullness.

This expression, «the fullness of Christ,» is striking. It means that Christ, in his mystery, is fully revealed only in the whole of his Body, the Church. No single individual, however holy, can manifest the full richness of Christ alone. It is the entire community, in the diversity of its members and their gifts, that gradually becomes, over centuries and generations, this «full measure» of Christ.

This also means that the unity Paul speaks of at the beginning of the passage is not a static state to be preserved, but a dynamic growth toward which to strive. «Until we arrive»: the verb indicates a path, a movement, a maturation. The unity of the Church is never definitively achieved; it is constantly built, patiently, through the combined exercise of all the gifts given by Christ.

This vision has very concrete consequences for the ordinary life of a believer. First, it means that your personal contribution, however modest it may seem, truly participates in this building. The catechist who patiently prepares their Wednesday lesson, the hospital visitor who walks through a hospital door each week, the father who prays with his children in the evening: each, in their own way, contributes to increasing the stature of Christ in his Church.

It also means that the diversity of gifts is not an organizational problem to be solved, but a richness to be embraced. When a parish includes very different personalities—some drawn to social action, others to contemplation, others to teaching, others to hospitality—this diversity is not an obstacle to unity. It is a prerequisite. A community where everyone had the same gift would be an impoverished community, incapable of manifesting the fullness of Christ.

What this text changes in concrete terms in our lives

Three spheres where Paul's call demands immediate practical application

In family life, this text invites us to recognize that each family member has received a different gift, and that family cohesion is not based on uniformity of temperament but on sharing differences. A father and a mother do not exercise the same authority in the same way; children do not grow up with the same talents. Pauline humility, applied to family life, consists of never imposing on others to be like oneself, but of welcoming their difference as an enrichment for the entire household.

In parish life, this text calls us to move beyond a rigid hierarchical vision where only the priest or a few leaders hold real importance. Each baptized person has received a measure of grace, adapted to their abilities and circumstances. This means, in concrete terms, that the person who greets visitors at the church door, the one who prepares the altar flowers, the one who leads the youth group—all participate, with equal dignity, in building up the same Body. No task is insignificant when it is carried out with love and the humility that Paul describes.

In professional and social life, this text invites us to take a different look at the inevitable tensions between colleagues or associates. Pauline patience and gentleness are not reserved for the religious sphere. They apply to all forms of communal life. Tolerating the shortcomings of a difficult colleague, accepting that a cherished project may not be selected, recognizing the competence of another without jealousy: these are direct applications, in the world of work, of the spirit that Paul describes for the Church.

Echoes in the Christian tradition

John Chrysostom

John Chrysostom, one of the greatest preachers of the Greek Church, devotes several of his homilies on the Epistle to the Ephesians to this specific passage in chapter 4. He dwells at length on the expression "bear with one another in love," which he comments on by emphasizing that this exhortation presupposes real and sometimes painful differences among members of the community. For him, Paul is not asking for superficial tolerance, but for a love capable of truly absorbing the frictions of daily life. Chrysostom also underlines that the very fact that Paul, an apostle crowned with such authority, includes himself in this exhortation to humility—he does not say "be humble" but implies that he practices it first and foremost from his prison cell—gives his words a force that no abstract exhortation could ever possess.

Augustine of Hippo

In his treatise *The City of God*, as well as in several of his sermons, Augustine repeatedly returns to the Pauline image of the unity of the Body of Christ. He develops the idea that this unity never negates the diversity of its members, but rather magnifies it, in the way that a polyphonic song derives its beauty from the difference of the voices which, together, produce a harmony that no single voice could produce. Augustine particularly emphasizes that this unity rests on charity, the only bond capable of holding together such different members without confusing or separating them.

Thomas Aquinas and the medieval tradition In the medieval tradition, Thomas Aquinas takes up this theology of gifts in his reflection on charisms, which he carefully distinguishes from the virtues and gifts of the Holy Spirit proper to personal sanctification. For Thomas, the charisms listed by Paul in Ephesians 4—apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers—are given not for the personal benefit of the recipient, but for the common good. This distinction illuminates an essential point of Paul's text: an authentic spiritual gift never closes in on its possessor; it is given freely, it is placed at the service of others.

Contemporary liturgical and theological resonance The Second Vatican Council, in its dogmatic constitution Lumen Gentium on the Church, explicitly reaffirms this Pauline theology of charisms, stating that every baptized person, not just ordained ministers, receives gifts of the Spirit for the common building up of the Church. This conciliar reinterpretation profoundly renewed the awareness that the entire Church bears this diversity of gifts described by Paul, and that each lay faithful, in their own vocation, actively participates in the building up of the Body of Christ.

Lectio divina

How to pray this text

Take a minute each day to identify a concrete opportunity for patience or humility, as Paul asks. Write it down, even mentally: a time when you had to "put up with yourself" with someone.

Read slowly the list of gifts in verse 11. Ask yourself, without comparing yourself to others, what measure of grace seems appropriate to your life: welcoming, teaching, discreet service, faithful prayer.

End each day with a short prayer of thanksgiving for a gift received from another member of your community — a relative, a colleague, a parishioner — who helped you without you deserving it.

What this text says about our fragmented era

Our era is experiencing a thirst for unity that strangely coexists with increasing fragmentation. Social networks promise connection but often produce isolation; great collective causes quickly dissolve into opposing tribes. In this context, Paul's text proposes a radically different model of unity: not uniformity of opinions or the merging of identities, but the humble and patient pooling of genuinely diverse gifts.

This text also speaks directly to a very contemporary temptation: that of self-sufficiency. Our culture values individual autonomy, the ability to manage on one's own, to depend on no one. Paul reminds us that this self-sufficiency is a spiritual illusion. No one has received all the gifts. No one can do without others. This truth, far from being a constraint, is a liberation: it frees us from the obligation to be perfect and complete on our own.

Finally, this text speaks to a Church often divided by internal debates, differing sensitivities, and tensions between generations or liturgical traditions. Paul does not ask that these differences be erased by force, but that they be borne with patience, in the bond of peace, always keeping in mind the common goal: to build together the stature of Christ.

An invitation to inhabit one's own measure

This passage from Paul asks for nothing heroic. It doesn't ask you to be an apostle if you aren't one, nor a prophet if you don't have that gift. It asks you to fully inhabit, with humility and patience, the measure of grace you have received—whatever it may be. It asks you to continue supporting others, even when it is difficult, because it is precisely in this daily effort that the Body of Christ is built, stone by stone. The next time you doubt the usefulness of your place in the Church or in your community, remember: your measure of grace, however modest it may seem, is necessary for the stature of Christ in his fullness.

Practices

Identify your own gift: take the time this week to honestly name what you bring to your community — without comparing it to that of others, nor minimizing it.

Practice active patience: choose someone you find difficult to deal with, and pray for them every day before any interaction, in order to approach the relationship gently.

Value a gift different from your own: explicitly thank, this week, a person whose charisma is very different from yours, for what they bring to the community.

Give up being right for once: in a discussion where you are sure of your opinion, consciously choose humility rather than self-assertion, out of love for the common bond.

Pray for the unity of your parish: dedicate a specific time of prayer to the unity of your local community, naming the concrete tensions that you know.

Serve in the shadows: accomplish this week a discreet, unrecognized task for your community, thinking that it is participating in the building up of the Body of Christ.

Read Ephesians 4 as a family: share this text with your loved ones, and ask yourselves together what gifts each of you brings to the home.

References

Antiquity and the Fathers (1st–5th centuries)

• John Chrysostom, Homilies on the Epistle to the Ephesians — a major patristic commentary on this chapter, insisting on the real requirement implied by the exhortation to bear with one another in love, and on the exemplary nature of Paul himself writing from his prison.
• Augustine of Hippo, The City of God — development of the theology of the unity of the Body of Christ in the diversity of its members, through the image of a polyphonic harmony founded on charity.

Late Fathers and the Middle Ages (5th–15th centuries)

• Thomas Aquinas, reflection on charisms in his theology of gifts — distinction between charisms given for common edification and gifts of the Holy Spirit intended for personal sanctification, illuminating the collective purpose of the gifts listed by Paul.

Contemporary (20th–21st centuries)

• Second Vatican Council, Lumen Gentium — dogmatic constitution on the Church explicitly taking up the Pauline theology of charisms to affirm that every baptized person participates, by his own gifts, in the building up of the Body of Christ.

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