W hen you come together to eat the Christians’ love suppers, these people are like hidden rocks that wreck a ship. They only think of themselves. They are like clouds without rain carried along by the wind and like trees without fruit in the fall of the year. They are pulled out by the roots and are dead now and never can live again.
Éstos empañan los ágapes que ustedes celebran, pues sin vergüenza alguna comen pensando sólo en sí mismos. Son nubes sin agua, que el viento arrastra de un lado a otro; árboles otoñales que no dan fruto; carentes de raíces, se han secado y vuelto a secar.
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