2:13–15 Salvation Through Childbirth?

2:13–15 Salvation Through Childbirth?

See comment on 1 peter 1:9.

15:29 Baptism for the Dead?

From the rather straightforward way in which Paul discusses baptism for the dead, it appears that both for him and for his readers the rite or practice of “being baptized for

[literally, ‘on behalf of’] the dead” was as obvious and clear as it is puzzling and obscure for us. What is Paul’s point in referring to such a practice? What is the meaning and purpose of the practice? Did Paul approve or disapprove it?

First a word about the context in which this text appears. In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul gives an elaborate apologetic for both the resurrection of Christ and the future resurrection of the dead. This apologetic assumes that among the Corinthian Christians were some who denied the very concept of resurrection. Such a denial seems to have emerged out of a view of reality which rejected the goodness of physical life and held that only the human spirit or soul (the immaterial aspect) was the object of redemption.

Thus among the superspiritualists in Corinth there were the “libertines” for whom concrete, bodily realities, including sexual relations, had no ultimate significance; for them, anything was possible. Paul’s discussion of the resurrection responds to questions raised in the congregation by the views of these hyperspiritualists.

Paul’s apologetic is expressed in a series of “if/then” arguments: If there is no resurrection, then Christ has not been raised (1 Cor 15:13). If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching and your faith are futile (1 Cor 15:14, 17) and those Christians who have already died are lost (1 Cor 15:18). If the dead are not raised, then “let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die” and that’s the end of it (1 Cor 15:32).

Our text is part of this series of arguments. Though the Greek of the first part of 1

Corinthians 15:29 does not contain the phrase “no resurrection” (as in NIV [NIV New International Version] ; compare NASB [NASB New American Standard Bible] , RSV

[RSV Revised Standard Version] ), the preposition epei (“now if” or “otherwise”) clearly carries this sense from the previous “if/then” series, as well as from the latter part of verse 29, “If the dead are not raised, why then … ?”

Apart from the question of the nature and meaning of the practice and Paul’s attitude toward it, the force of the argument is unambiguous: If there is no resurrection, if the dead are not raised, what is the point of the rite in which people are baptized on their behalf? Will not those who undergo this ritual look like fools if in fact there is no resurrection? No matter what efficacy is believed to come from such vicarious baptism, the whole enterprise is a total waste of effort and time! The core of this apologetic is of course the contradiction between their belief and their practice. They believe that there is no resurrection; yet their practice belies that belief.

What was the practice and its purpose? This reference to baptism on behalf of the dead is unique in the New Testament. Its mention here indicates that it was practiced by some Christians in Corinth (if not generally by the congregation as a whole). Its absence from the rest of the New Testament, as well as from the apostolic fathers, probably indicates that it was not a common practice. Practices with some affinity to it show up in some second- and third-century heretical groups and may be developments from the practice mentioned by Paul. But these later practices are of no help in determining what the Corinthian believers intended in this ritual.

The scantiness of the evidence has given rise to scores of interpretations, some of which are fanciful and highly speculative (for example, that it was a practice of being baptized on the tombs of the dead). However, the plain reading of the text probably allows for no more than two possibilities: (1) some Christians in Corinth (presumably persons who had already undergone their own baptism) were undergoing the rite on behalf of dead relatives or friends; (2) the rite was being practiced on behalf of persons who were Christians, but who had died before baptism was administered. This latter possibility would certainly fit a time in the history of the church when those who professed faith in Christ went through an extended “probationary” period of as much as a year before they were baptized and became full members of the Christian fellowship.

Baptism on their behalf would be a visible demonstration that these departed had appropriated Christ’s atoning death and, therefore, would be raised by God. What argues against this second possibility is the New Testament evidence that in the early decades, baptism was generally administered almost immediately after persons came to

faith in Christ (for example, Acts 2:37–41; 8:34–38; 10:44–48; 16:29–33). Yet it is quite possible that even in this early period, due to circumstances or illness or large-scale epidemics, numerous believers died before baptism had been administered.

As to the meaning and purpose of the practice, the wording suggests some “vicarious”

significance. Those who underwent the rite “on behalf of” a deceased person must have held to a belief that by this act their resurrection could be secured. If the second view mentioned above is adopted, baptism on behalf of dead—but unbaptized—

believers could have been understood as a visible sign and celebration that these departed ones had appropriated Christ’s atoning death for themselves in faith and would therefore participate in the resurrection. In this sense, the practice would certainly not have violated Paul’s own understanding of the significance of baptism, and he would probably not have rejected the practice. According to Romans 6, baptism was for Paul a dramatic reenactment of death and resurrection: first of all, death to sin and resurrection to new life, but also participation, by faith, in Christ’s death and resurrection; and finally, a powerful proclamation of victory over death in the final resurrection.

If, however, this vicarious baptism was on behalf of nonbelievers, then a view of the nature and efficacy of baptism beyond Paul’s own view must have been held by these Christians. Such a view (some would call it highly sacramental; others magical) would have understood the baptismal ritual as so effective that its benefits would accrue to the one for whom it was enacted. The departed person would have been seen to be included in the sphere of the saving faith of those who enacted the ritual.

Underlying such a view, and leading to it, is no doubt a deep concern, present among believers from the beginning, about all those who died before the event of Christ in history. Were those who died before the Incarnation, or those who died before the gospel was preached in their communities, deprived of the opportunity to be redeemed and join the community of the resurrected ones? The practice of baptism on behalf of the dead may have been an early response to such concerns. That same concern also lies behind the idea that Christ entered the realm of the dead after his death and before his resurrection in order to offer salvation to all those who died before the Incarnation (1 Pet 3:18–20).

2 Corinthians

1:21–22 What Is the Anointing?

See comment on 1 john 2:27.

3:14 A Veil over Their Minds?

These words are written by Paul about his own people Israel, who, in respect to a knowledge of God and his purposes, have been and continue to be in a twilight zone.

The questions raised by this statement are, Why is that so? How were their minds made dull? Who or what caused this? What is the veil that covers them when the Law is read?

This text is part of a section in which Paul contrasts the old covenant and its results

with the new covenant and its results. The old covenant—though that was not its intention—leads to death (2 Cor 3:6, 9), as the history of Israel’s disobedience and her rejection of the Messiah clearly demonstrates for Paul. The new covenant, inaugurated in Christ, leads to life, as Paul’s experience and his understanding of the Incarnation also clearly demonstrates. Behind this contrast stands Paul’s deep conviction that the old covenant, focused in the giving of the law, reveals the nature and purposes of God indirectly (Gal 3:19–20), while the new covenant, focused in Christ, reveals God directly and fully. Christ is the very image of God (2 Cor 4:4); he is the incarnation of God’s “fullness” (Col 1:19; 2:9).

Within the context of this overall view, Paul’s discussion, which leads to this text, develops as follows. He sees his ministry of proclaiming the gospel as resulting in a new covenant community in which the revelation of God is not present on inscribed tablets but engraved on hearts by the Spirit of God (2 Cor 3:3–6). In the use of this imagery, Paul is clearly reflecting the prophecy of Jeremiah 31:31–34 about the promise of a new covenant where the will of God will be written on people’s hearts.

Paul understands the church as the fulfillment of this prophetic vision. The contrast between “indirect” and “direct” contact with the living God is here implicitly given.

Paul continues the contrast by reflecting on the experience of Moses and Israel when the Ten Commandments were given. According to Exodus 34:29–35, when Moses brought the tablets from Mount Sinai, his face was radiant because he had been in the presence of the glory of the Lord (see Ex 33:18, 22), and the people were afraid to come near. Then Moses veiled his face, thus covering the reflection of God’s glory in his face. Paul contrasts this indirect and muted mediation and reflection of God’s glory at the time of the establishing of the old covenant with the greater glory of the new covenant, established by the presence of the Spirit (2 Cor 3:7–11). That Spirit is the

“Spirit of the Lord” (2 Cor 3:17), and it is that Lord in whose face “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God” is fully revealed (2 Cor 4:6).

Having established this contrast, Paul now uses the veil—which covered Moses’ face to conceal the reflected radiance of God’s glory (2 Cor 3:13)—to symbolize Israel’s past and present blindness “when the old covenant is read” (2 Cor 3:14).

Paul knew, on the basis of the history of his people and his own experience, that the words of Scripture with regard to Israel’s “dullness of mind” (2 Cor 3:14) and blindness of sight are true. What causes this lack of full comprehension and unobstructed vision?

According to Deuteronomy 29, in the context of a covenant renewal ceremony, Moses tells the people that even though they have seen and experienced the mighty deeds of the Lord on their behalf, they have not really grasped its full significance, for “to this day the Lord has not given you a mind that understands or eyes that see or ears that hear” (Deut 29:4). The context shows that Israel’s breaking of God’s covenant with them stands in the background. With their own eyes and ears and minds they failed to grasp God’s truth for them. The statement “the Lord has not given you … ” does not mean that the Lord caused their disobedience, but rather that if their eyes and ears and minds were really in tune with the Lord, the mighty works of God on their behalf would have been seen for what they were—namely, evidences of God’s steadfast love and faithfulness (Ex 34:6). By not “giving them minds that understand,” God allowed their minds to dull.

That same mysterious relation between human decision and divine action is expressed in the context of the prophet Isaiah’s call, where he is told that the word of the Lord that he will address to the people of Israel will make their heart calloused, their ears dull and their eyes closed (Is 6:10). This is a prophetic anticipation of what in fact happened as a result of Isaiah’s preaching: the nation continued on its way of disobedience toward national collapse and exile. Because this was the result of the word of the Lord that Isaiah proclaimed, it could be said that the Lord “closed their eyes.” What is reflected here is the lack of precise distinction in Hebraic thought between primary and secondary causes. Since God is sovereign, human will and freedom to decide for or against God were often subsumed under divine sovereignty.

An increasing sense of individual and corporate responsibility before God is reflected in the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures. There the Hebrew of Isaiah 6:10—

“Make the heart of this people calloused”—is rendered “This people’s heart has become calloused, they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes.”

The translators understood the Isaiah passage to mean that Israel’s disobedience led to their lack of understanding.

It is this background in the Old Testament which is reflected in Paul’s statement that

“their minds were made dull.” And the rejection of the Messiah shows that “to this day” their rebellion against God continues. That is the veil which remains. Whenever

“Moses is read” (that is, the Law, 2 Cor 3:15), the veil remains. For, as Paul shows elsewhere, the Law was only able to reveal human sin; it could not save (Rom 3:20).

But, when one turns to the Lord, so Paul concludes, the veil is taken away (2 Cor 3:16).

That conclusion surely emerged from Paul’s own experience. In the very attempt to obey the Law, he found himself opposing the true purposes of God. In Christ, those true purposes have been revealed; not indirectly, but directly. Therefore, we can

“reflect the Lord’s glory” (2 Cor 3:18). The veil of disobedience and dullness has been removed.

4:4 Who Is “The God of This Age”?

It is clear that Scripture (including the parts that Paul wrote) teaches that there is only one God (e.g., Rom 3:30; 1 Cor 8:6; Eph 4:6; 1 Tim 2:5; Jas 2:19). Who then is “the god of this age”? Why would Paul refer to another god if he believed that there is only one God?

As a Jew, Paul divided world history into two “ages”: “this age” and “the age to come” (Eph 1:21). This age is a period when Satan has significant sway in the world, but in the age to come God’s kingdom will be fully revealed and he will right all the wrongs from this age. When Paul submitted to Jesus as his Messiah, he gained a new perspective on this division of time. In Jesus the age to come has already arrived.

Christians have already entered under the control of God and already experience the kingdom in the fruit of the Spirit (Rom 14:17) and the Spirit’s power (1 Cor 4:20).

This does not mean that the kingdom is fully present, for the full experience of the kingdom is in the future, when it will rule the earth (1 Cor 15:24). Thus Christians both experience the kingdom now and are yet to inherit the kingdom (Col 1:12).

Everyone, however, is not a Christian. This evil age is still very much present (Gal

1:4). In this age there is a “dominion of darkness” (Col 1:13) in which people are controlled by “the ruler of the kingdom of the air” (Eph 2:2). Paul refers to the human rulers of “this age” (1 Cor 2:8), the philosophers of “this age” (1 Cor 1:20) and the standards of “this age” (1 Cor 3:18). In this passage he refers to the being that controls

“this age” as “the god of this age,” rather than using one of his other titles, such as Satan (2 Cor 11:14). Paul refers to Satan by such a title, not because he is a god in the sense of being an ultimate being, but because he is the being who controls the lives of unbelievers (including blinding their minds) and the one whom they serve (even if they think that they are serving their own self-interest or money or some particular deity).

Therefore, for Paul there only is one true God. The true God is the ultimate God, the one ultimate being, for in the end Christ will put down all other dominions and authorities, including that of Satan, and “deliver the kingdom to the Father.” Satan is not God; he is a being who will in the end bow the knee before God. Yet for now Satan holds sway over this age everywhere that people have not turned to Christ and thus been transferred from “the dominion of darkness” into “the kingdom of God’s dear Son.” Satan is not the ultimate God, but for those who have not turned to Christ, the dark lord is all the god that they know. That terrible reality is what Paul is recognizing in this verse.

See also comment on 1 corinthians 8:5–6.

5:17 All the Old Has Gone?

Paul’s joyful proclamation in 2 Corinthians 5:17 expresses a conviction that seems all too frequently contradicted by our experience. We affirm that life in Christ produces a new kind of living and are embarrassed to find so little difference between our actual living and the lives of those who make no such claims. We rejoice in the forgiveness of God for our sinfulness and then recognize how our living often fails to convey this reality to others. We worship the Christ who gave his life for others, yet devote so much time and energy to promoting ourselves. We proclaim allegiance to Christ as Lord while living by priorities and values which indicate that there are indeed “many gods and lords” by which we really live.

Like us, the early Christians to whom Paul addressed those words recognized that in many ways the “old” remained with them and the “new” life of faith in Christ needed to be appropriated again and again. These early Christians saw that Rome and its oppressive power continued. Injustice and immorality prevailed in their world. They experienced continuing bondage in their personal lives, bitter strife within communal Christian life, the continuing reality of personal failure, anxiety, frustration and sin.

Why the old when the new is come? Why are these things still with us, if it is true that

“the old has gone” and “the new has come”?

How are we to understand this tension between Christian affirmation and Christian experience? There have been two main ways by which Christians have sought to deal with this problem. Both ways have arisen out of an understanding of human nature which sees us as consisting of essentially two parts: the physical (flesh) and the spiritual (soul), which are opposed to each other.

One way manifested itself as early as a.d. 50 in the Christian community at Corinth. It was the “spiritualizing” of Christian faith. The argument went something like this:

“Since the body, the flesh, the physical aspect is at best weak, at worst corrupt, what we need to do is to concentrate on the spiritual side, on the soul. And since, through Christ, our souls have been redeemed, it really does not matter what we do with our bodies.” It does not take much imagination to see where this way of splitting the human personality leads. In Corinth, it led to libertinism, which manifested itself in a complete disregard for the moral-ethical life and a haughty disdain for the brother or sister who had not attained to such a “liberated spirituality.”

A second response to such a dualistic view of human nature manifested itself during Paul’s missionary activity in Asia Minor. It was the legalizing of the Christian faith.

The argument here went as follows: “The flesh really interferes with the attempt of the human spirit to be in perfect communion with God. Therefore, ‘the flesh,’ with all its passions and desires, must be made subservient to the spirit. We must impose—by means of codes of conduct—such close strictures on our lives that the inner purity of the spirit is not somehow defiled by the flesh.” The extreme form of this response was a rigorous asceticism and monastic isolation from entanglements with the world.

Much of contemporary Christian thinking continues to be influenced by such dualism.

Sometimes it becomes an escape hatch from the demands of Christian discipleship. At other times it forms the basis of a disregard for bodily, concrete things and an elevation of the spiritual or a suppression of the physical with a view to the purification of the soul.

If the above ways of dealing with the basic tension in Christian existence are inadequate, how then are we to understand the presence of that tension, how are we to account for it, and how are we to come to grips with it?

There were Greek thinkers, prior to and contemporary with the birth of Christianity, who saw the human body as the prisonhouse or tomb of the soul. They believed that salvation consisted of the liberation of a person’s higher self, the spirit or soul, from its entrapment with the body. This understanding of human nature, which has influenced much Christian thought, must be decidedly rejected as contrary to the biblical point of view. In the witness of the Bible, the total being is the object of God’s redemptive purposes. As physical-spiritual beings we are the objects of God’s forgiving act in Christ. In our wholeness we stand under the constraining love of Christ by which we become new creations. In our concrete existence we can be transformed into the image of Christ. The human person—in the context of relationship to others—is the locus of God’s intervention. To affirm less than that is to limit God!

If a dividing of the human personality into antagonistic physical and spiritual components cannot account for the tension between the “old” and the “new,” what can? What, we must ask, is Paul expressing in our text? In what sense are Christians

“new creations”?

An instructive perspective comes to light when Paul’s word is seen against the backdrop of Israel’s prophetic hope. One of the main features of that hope was the belief that the end of time was going to be like the beginning of time. When the prophets spoke about the expectation of God’s final coming and reign in human history, they frequently described that time in imagery associated in the Old Testament with paradise and the original creation. A new creation was going to replace the fallen old creation. Isaiah’s picture of the return of paradise is a striking example of this prophetic expectation: “The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with

the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them” (Is 11:6).

Now, for Paul, the end of time had dawned on a broken world. The end of the ages had broken into the old age (see 1 Cor 10:11). The world was a new world insofar as it had encountered the Creator in the Christ. The person “in Christ” was part of a new humanity, created in Christ Jesus for a new existence. As Adam and Eve, the typical representative human beings, stood before the Creator in radical freedom, so the new person in Christ stands before the Creator in radical freedom. In some sense, the situation before the Fall has been re-created for the Christian. In that sense the Christian is a “new creation.” As Adam and Eve were faced with the decision to give allegiance to God the Creator or to create their own gods and give allegiance to them (see Rom 1:20–23), so the new-creation person has been freed from the Fall’s bondage for the same decision. As they lived with the possibility of either dependence on the Creator or independence from him, so the new-creation person exists within that possibility. As they could either exist in fellowship with their Maker or hide from God among the trees, so the new-creation person can live in trust before God or make jungles in which to hide from God.

God’s redeeming love in Christ has reclaimed us for relationship with our Creator. In this relationship we are free from the bondage to sin which characterized us while alienated from God. But this relationship does not automatically remove us from the influence of sin’s reality which surrounds us in all arenas of life.

For Paul, “the old” which has gone is the condition of alienation from God and its bondage to sin. “The new” which has come is our relationship with God in Christ, a relationship which empowers us for a kind of living in which the continuing reality of sin can be overcome again and again. To be a “new creation” is not to be perfect or faultless, or immune from anger and pain, or insulated from the tough experiences of life. Rather, to be a “new creation” is to live life turned toward the God whose grace has reclaimed us in Christ.

6:14 Yoked with Unbelievers?

There are two ways in which 2 Corinthians 6:14 may be viewed as a hard saying. It may be hard because we don’t like the rigorous implications it seems to have for our everyday relationships with persons who are not believers. If it is hard for this reason it should not be made easier, for that would be to obscure its meaning. The saying may, however, be hard because (1) it seems to present the incompatibility between believer and unbeliever more narrowly than other New Testament texts, and (2) it is not clear what being “yoked together” means precisely and how it is to be put into practice. A careful look at the text and its context should help.

One of the major themes in 2 Corinthians is the defense of the integrity of Paul’s apostolic ministry, the authenticity of the gospel which he preached and the implications that gospel had for the life of Christians. It is clear from statements in both canonical letters that Paul’s relationship with Corinth was a tumultuous one, giving rise to several visits and as many as four letters. There were elements in the church who opposed Paul and his teachings, and because of that opposition (often arising out of misunderstandings of what Paul had said or written earlier), the church at Corinth was in danger of self-destructing again and again.

In the discussion of 2 Corinthians 5:17 we saw that central to Paul’s thought was the conviction that “in Christ” believers were “new creatures,” their old allegiances had been replaced by a new relationship with God, “who reconciled us to himself” (2 Cor 5:17–18). On the basis of that truth, Paul knew that God had called him into the

“ministry of reconciliation.” Recognizing that reconciliation in the divine-human relationship had far-reaching implications for human relationships, Paul was grieved by those who opposed him and the gospel (2 Cor 2:1–4) and was concerned about their salvation. So he pleads earnestly with them: “We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God” (2 Cor 5:20) and “We urge you not to receive God’s grace in vain”

(2 Cor 6:1).

From his earlier letter (1 Cor) it is clear that there were several areas in their life as a congregation and as individual believers where God’s grace seemed to be in vain (for example, continuing participation in pagan cultic rituals, 1 Cor 6; 10; taking disagreements into pagan courts, 1 Cor 6). How can “receiving God’s grace in vain”

be avoided? Second Corinthians 6:14 is a response to that question.

The Greek word for “yoked together” is found only here in the New Testament. In the Greek Old Testament, the word is used in the prohibition against breeding cattle with a different species of animal (Lev 19:19). From this use of the Greek word comes the meaning “mismating,” which several translations employ for this text (RSV [RSV

Revised Standard Version] ; NEB [NEB New English Bible] , “Do not unite yourselves with unbelievers; they are no fit mates for you”). From this rendering of the word has emerged what is probably the commonest understanding of this text; namely, that Paul warns against marriage between believers and nonbelievers.

Though this understanding may be a valid application of the idea, the context of the passage suggests that marriage was not what Paul had in mind here. He seems to use the term in its more general meaning of “unevenly yoked,” such as placing animals of a different species in the same harness. Paul may have used the prohibition against such yoking in Deuteronomy 22:10 as a metaphor:1 [1 In light of the fact that both Leviticus 19:19 and Deuteronomy 22:9–10 forbid various unequal combinations, such as sowing different seeds in the same soil and garments made from different materials, it is apparent that the metaphor “unevenly yoked” speaks of incompatibility, such as the common expression “oil and water don’t mix.”] there is a decided difference between the Christian and the non-Christian. There is a basic incompatibility which must be recognized and which has implications for life in an environment of unbelief. What is the nature of that incompatibility? And what are its implications?

The statement “Do not be yoked together with unbelievers” is followed by a series of five antithetical questions which define the nature of incompatibility between believers and unbelievers. The questions are rhetorical; thus the answers are obvious. What do righteousness and wickedness, light and darkness, Christ and Belial,2 [2 Paul uses the name Belial only here as the opponent of Christ; his usual term is Satan. Belial (or Beliar; the spellings vary) is the name given to the head of evil forces opposed to God in the noncanonical literature of Judaism (for example, Jubilees 1:20; 15:33; Martyrdom of Isaiah 1:9; 2:4; 3:11).] believer and unbeliever, the temple of God and idols, have in common?

Absolutely nothing! “For we are the temple of the living God” (2 Cor 6:16).

The idea of Christians being, collectively, the temple of God was already laid before the Corinthians in Paul’s earlier epistle (1 Cor 3:16). There they were also reminded that God’s temple was sacred (holy), and they were that temple (1 Cor 3:17). They were to “flee from sexual immortality” (1 Cor 6:18) and “from idolatry” (1 Cor 10:14), for all forms of wickedness are incompatible with the kingdom of God (1 Cor 6:9–10).

In 2 Corinthians 6:14–18 the reminder that they are God’s temple is followed, via a

series of Old Testament texts, by the call to really be God’s holy people among whom he is present as in a temple. This exploration of the temple imagery as applied to the Christian community in the world closes with a final exhortation: “Let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God” (2 Cor 7:1).

The whole passage from 2 Corinthians 6:14 on seems to drive toward this climax. Here is the key to what “not being yoked with unbelievers” means. It means that the Christian is in process, moving toward holiness. The concept of holiness, as applied to both the temple and the people of God, is grounded in the Old Testament. The Hebrew word meaning “separated” always has a double meaning: separated from evil and dedicated to the service of God. Separation from evil is demonstrated by a distinctive way of life which evidences moral behavior of the highest order. Dedication to God’s service is demonstrated by the rejection of all idolatrous contamination (1 Cor 10:14; 2

Cor 6:16), whether in its ancient or modern forms (for “idolatry” is giving ultimate allegiance to beings or powers or things or values, rather than to God).

What are the implications for today? Not monastic isolation from the world. In 1

Corinthians 5:10 Paul recognizes that disassociation from immoral, worldly persons is impossible, since that would mean that one “would have to leave this world” (see also Jesus’ prayer in Jn 17:15, “not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one”). In 1 Corinthians 7:12–16, he recognizes that the marriage of a believer and unbeliever may lead to the sanctification of the unbelieving spouse. And in 1 Corinthians 10:27, he recognizes the possibility of believers at dinner parties in the homes of unbelieving friends or neighbors.

Separatist movements in church history, in the attempt to be faithful to the radical nature of Paul’s call for holiness, have often interpreted that call in terms of external associations or contacts or affiliations. Such a focus has often missed what seems to be the core of Paul’s concern; namely, that while living in the world and in contact with unbelievers, Christians have nothing in common with the darkness and evil and unrighteousness and immorality that claims the loyalties of those who are as yet not reconciled with God.

Thus to be “yoked with unbelievers” is to be of one heart and mind with them, co-opted by the values that guide them, seduced by their commitments to various “gods and lords” (1 Cor 8:5), conformed to a view of things which dismisses absolute truth and moral absolutes. Christians, according to Paul, are new creations living in the midst of the old order. As such, they are to “live as children of light,” bearing “the fruit of the light” which is “goodness, righteousness and truth” (Eph 5:8–9).

12:2 Caught Up to the Third Heaven?

In 2 Corinthians 12:2 Paul refers to “a man” (probably himself) who is “caught up to the third heaven.” Isn’t there only one heaven? What is this third heaven?

Of the 231 times that the word heaven occurs in the New Testament, the vast majority are absolute uses: voices come from heaven, Christ ascends to heaven, there is a kingdom of heaven. Heaven in these verses stands for either the dwelling place of God or the place the rain comes from. The context provides the information needed to decide which is meant.

In this passage, however, Paul is talking about a journey somewhere. The man he is referring to is almost certainly himself. It was considered proud or boastful to directly refer to great honor or great shame coming to oneself. If you wanted to make such a reference, the proper way to do so was in the third person: “Such and such happened to a man.” This is the convention that Paul is using here. He has felt forced by the apparent claims of his opponents in Corinth to visions to refer to his own visionary experiences. Rather than roll out a list of experiences, starting with the Damascus road incident, he cites the one vision that he knows will top any of theirs, a vision in which his experience of heaven was so real that he is not sure if it was a vision or a physical rapture to heaven. This vivid experience took place fourteen years before Paul wrote 2

Corinthians, or about a.d. 44. This places the event in the period between Paul’s departure from Jerusalem after his conversion (Acts 9:30) and his commissioning for his first missionary journey (Acts 13:1–3). During this period he was very active in ministry in Syria and Cilicia, eventually being recruited by Barnabas to minister in Antioch. Into this period we must put many of the experiences he refers to in 2

Corinthians 11.

Where, then, is the third heaven to which Paul was caught up? In the Old Testament there seems to be a threefold division of heaven into the heaven in which the birds fly, the heaven where the stars exist (often thought of as a “firmament”), and above that the heaven where God resides, referred to as “the highest heavens” (1 Kings 8:27; 2

Chron 2:6; 6:18; Neh 9:6; Ps 148:4). Unfortunately, this information is derived from occasional references in the Old Testament and not clearly taught in it. There is no Old Testament discourse on the nature of heaven. In the time of Paul some Jews made a finer distinction than that made in the Old Testament, dividing the heavens into five ( 3

Apocalypse of Baruch 11:1), into seven spheres ( Testament of Levi 3:1; Ascension of Isaiah 9; in the Talmud b. Hagigah 11b), and into ten ( 2 Enoch 20:3b; 22:1). Paul does not indicate to which of these schemes he subscribes until he gets to 2

Corinthians 12:4 and says that he was “caught up to paradise.” The term “paradise” is a Persian loan word referring to a walled garden, which came to indicate the abode of God (even when located in the seventh heaven, Ascension of Isaiah 9:7; b.Hagigah 12b). In the New Testament it is identified as the place where Jesus was with the blessed dead (Lk 23:43) and the location of the tree of life (Rev 2:7; compare Rev 22:1–5 for a fuller identification of where this tree is). Thus Paul is indicating that he was caught up to the very presence of God, the highest of the heavens.

The New Testament does not encourage speculation about the structure of heaven. In fact, while we can discover the various patterns that this or that biblical author apparently believed in, none of them teach on the divisions of the heavens. When Paul says “the third heaven” we cannot be sure that he himself firmly believed that heaven was divided into three and only three parts, or only that he realized that his readers would understand that he meant the highest of the heavens. The point is that for Christians the divisions of heaven are relatively meaningless. They know that they are on earth now and that where they long to be is in the presence of their Lord, whether that be the third, fifth, seventh or tenth level of heaven. Wherever Jesus is, all of the intermediate levels are relatively meaningless, for the Christian goal is Christ more than heaven. Paul is indicating, then, that he received a foretaste of what it will be like to be in the very presence of the Lord.

12:7 What Is the Thorn in the Flesh?

Paul refers to “a thorn in my flesh” as a disciplinary measure to keep him from becoming too proud due to his experience in heaven. What exactly was this “thorn”?

Was it some type of a disease, or was it something else?

The identification of this “thorn” has eluded scholars for centuries. At the end of the second century Tertullian identified it as a pain in the ear or head ( De Pudicitia 13.17).

In the early Byzantine period the great Chrysostom ( Homilies 26) argued that it was opponents (based on the meaning of “Satan” as “adversary”). In the medieval period it was understood to be sexual temptation, while the reformers viewed it as a spiritual temptation. Some modern commentators opt for a physical disease, especially a severe form of ophthalmia (based on Gal 4:13–15) or malarial fever (so William M. Ramsay, St. Paul the Traveler and Roman Citizen [Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Books, 1962], pp. 94–97). Others have pointed to nervous disorders (including epilepsy), agony over the Jewish rejection of the gospel, or a speech impediment.

There are some things that we can definitely say about the “thorn.” First, it was evil. It is described as a “messenger of Satan,” not as an angel of God. This means that it comes from the Evil One with evil intent. Whether adversaries or disease, the “thorn”

was evil (and in the Scripture both adversaries and disease come from evil). Second, God was allowing this thing. This is what appears to be indicated by “there was given me.” It is certainly what is intended in the next verse, when Paul prays three times for the removal of the problem and gets a no in reply. Third, the “thorn” caused some type of weakness. In fact, after coming to accept that God would not remove it, Paul says,

“That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor 12:10). In this weakness Paul knew that God’s strength could be shown.

None of the suggestions made above is entirely without merit, but in my view Chrysostom was probably right in general. First, in the Old Testament adversaries are sometimes referred to as “thorns in your sides” (Num 33:55; Judg 2:3; compare Ezek 2:6; 28:24; Micah 7:4) or “thorns in your eyes” (Josh 23:13). There is no metaphorical use of “thorn” in the Old Testament for illness or temptation. Most of the other uses of

“thorn” in the Old Testament are images drawn from farming or the awareness that briars and thorns grew among the rubble of cities which were destroyed. Second, the term “messenger” (Greek angelos) in Paul’s writings always refers to a person. Third, in 2 Corinthians 10–13 the basic topic is Paul’s opponents. The whole section refers to the interlopers who are oppressing his beloved Corinthian church and at the same time criticizing Paul for not having had the courage to be equally oppressive. Fourth, Paul parallels this “thorn” with a “weakness” in which he will glory. While the term

“weakness” (Greek astheneia) can refer to illness (Gal 4:13; 1 Tim 5:23), in its seven occurrences in the Corinthian letters (and in both its occurrences in Romans) it refers to moral, spiritual or social weakness. In 2 Corinthians 11:30 it refers to Paul’s shame at having to flee from Damascus rather than face his enemies (in a culture in which an honorable death was better than fearful flight). Another weakness-strength contrast comes in 2 Corinthians 13:3–4 in which Jesus was weak in his crucifixion, unable to withstand his adversaries, but was raised in strength; so Paul who was socially weak when present in Corinth will return with Christ’s power, for Christ will defeat his adversaries. Furthermore, in 2 Corinthians 12:10 he lists weakness in a list which includes “insults, hardships, persecutions, difficulties,” but no terms for illness. Thus I conclude that the evidence from both the Old Testament background and the actual

use of the term in Paul points to the “thorn” as being the opponents who dogged Paul’s tracks throughout his mission, confusing churches every time he left one church to plant another. If Paul was tempted to feel proud, how proud would he feel when even his strongest churches and best converts proved to be subvertable by newcomers?

This is not to say that Paul never became ill. In fact, in Galatians 4:13–15 he is probably referring to illness, an unknown illness that brought him to preach in the Galatian region, perhaps because of its climate or perhaps because he could go no further. What we are talking about is not whether Paul ever became ill, but what is the exact interpretation of this one passage.

What is clear is that even something sent by Satan himself can be used by God. Paul apparently did not impress people. He frequently speaks of himself as weak and his speech as unrefined. Yet people who met him were forced to contrast that weakness with the evident power of the Spirit working through Paul. It was clear that the power he exhibited was not Paul’s power. Something greater was at work in him. Weakness and poor speech does not glorify God; he puts no value on it. Yet when it becomes an occasion for contrasting us with him, he can use it for his glory. In Paul’s case the results spoke for themselves. Paul by himself could not have accomplished what he did; he himself was satisfied that the results of his ministry showed the hand of God, even if he wished that the process of so displaying God were more comfortable.

See also comment on job 2:1–6.

Galatians

1:9 Condemning Opponents?

Paul’s curse in Galatians 1:9 is a hard saying for two reasons: it does not seem to be in agreement with some other statements of Paul, and it seems diametrically opposed to the teaching of Jesus with regard to our attitudes and actions toward those who are opposed to us.

In Romans 2:1–4 Paul lays down the principle that judgment passed on others is in some sense “reflexive”; that is, when we pass judgment on others, we condemn ourselves at the same time. For only God knows the truth about us, and only he is able therefore to pass judgment. We are mere creatures, limited with respect to both the truth about others and the truth about ourselves. We, like all others, are sinners (Rom 3:23); that is the ultimate reason we ought not to pass judgment.

This same sentiment is expressed again in a context where there is mutual judging going on within the congregation (Rom 14:1–13). Here the admonition not to judge others in respect to certain practices and beliefs considered inappropriate or wrong is based on the assertion that each disciple is accountable ultimately to the Lord (Rom 14:4), and all will equally “stand before God’s judgment seat” (Rom 14:10). The larger perspective which ought to guide Christians’ attitudes toward opponents is derived by Paul from the teaching of Jesus. Thus, echoing Matthew 5:44, Paul says, “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse” (Rom 12:14). Our task as Christians is to

“overcome evil with good” (Rom 12:21).

The overall teaching, attitude and life of Jesus stand also in apparent conflict with

Paul’s word of condemnation. Jesus’ radical imperative on the matter is “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged”

(Mt 7:1–2). The reason given for this imperative is that our own vision may be so impaired that it is sheer hypocrisy to try to remove the sawdust particle in the other’s eye (Mt 7:3, 5). The proper response to those who are opposed to us is to love them and pray for them (Mt 5:44). Beyond these words, Jesus’ entire life is a demonstration of his words’ validity. He did not come into a world opposed to God to condemn it but to save it (Jn 3:17). Because of his deep compassion he weeps over Jerusalem (Lk 19:41), the city that kills the prophets and those (like Jesus) sent to it (Lk 13:34). To the adulteress he speaks the word of forgiveness rather than judgment (Jn 8:10–11); to the criminal hanging on a cross next to him he speaks the word of grace (Lk 23:39–

43).

As Paul’s words against judging seem to stand in conflict with his harsh words in Galatians 1:9, so the larger picture of Jesus’ teaching and life, characterized by love and compassion, by humility and forgiveness, stands in apparent conflict with another dimension of his life. Jesus’ words and actions could be uncompromisingly harsh toward those who opposed him and his ministry and whose “piety” excluded the redemptive work of God. He calls the religious leaders of his own people “sons of the devil,” whose desire they carry out (Jn 8:44). Those who oppose his ministry of releasing the possessed from bondage are called “an evil generation” (Lk 11:29 RSV

[RSV Revised Standard Version] ), who will be judged and condemned (Lk 11:31–

32). Those who oppose the work of the Spirit of God in and through his life (Mt 12:28) will be condemned eternally; for them there is no forgiveness (Mt 12:31–32).

Words of bitter denunciation are spoken against the teachers of the law and Pharisees, whom he calls “child[ren] of hell” (Mt 23:15 RSV [RSV Revised Standard Version] ),

“blind fools” (Mt 23:17), “whitewashed tombs” (Mt 23:27), “snakes” and a “brood of vipers” who cannot “escape being condemned to hell” (Mt 23:33).

When we carefully compare this radically harsh tone in Jesus’ teaching with that strand in his life which exudes compassion and forgiveness, we recognize where the essential difference lies. He came as the incarnation of God’s redemptive love, and wherever there is openness to it, forgiveness is given, grace is experienced, sin is overcome. But where there is absolute rejection of that redemptive love, where the work of God is identified as demonic, where truth is trampled underfoot, there condemnation is pronounced. It is within this latter context of the rejection of God’s redemptive love that this hard saying must be understood.

In Paul’s epistle to the Galatians, the central issue addressed is this: the core of the gospel which Paul had preached and on which their faith was based is that we are justified, brought into a right relationship with God, solely by his grace and through faith, not by gaining a standing before God on the basis of obedience to the law (Gal 2:15–21). That gospel was being challenged by the so-called Judaizers; namely, Jewish Christians who demanded that Gentile Christians observe the Mosaic law, including ritual observances such as special days, kosher foods and circumcision (Gal 3:1–7; 4:8–11, 17, 21–22). Those who respond to their teaching, who are led away from the truth (Gal 5:7), who now seek “to be justified by law, have been alienated from Christ”

and have “fallen away from grace” (Gal 5:4).

For Paul the conflict between the gospel which he preached and the teaching of the Judaizers is a life-and-death struggle. Why? Because legalistic obedience, life before God based on religious achievement, does not bring one into right relationship with

God (Gal 2:16; 3:3) but to alienation from him (Gal 5:4), to rejection of God’s grace (Gal 2:21), to a life of legalistic bondage (Gal 4:9, 21; 5:1), to the curse of death (Gal 3:10–13).

Those who teach this way are “false brothers” (Gal 2:4) who oppose the “truth of the gospel” (Gal 2:5, 14), confuse the believers (Gal 1:7), “pervert the gospel of Christ”

(Gal 1:7), bewitch the saints (Gal 3:1). Therefore, let anyone who does this “be eternally condemned” (Gal 1:8–9). This strong language shows how serious the matter was for Paul. George Duncan puts it well when he calls these words “an imprecation such as we cannot imagine him using had it been merely his personal prestige …

anything, in fact, but the gospel of Christ which was at stake.”1 [1 George S. Duncan, The Epistle of Paul to the Galatians (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1934), pp. 18–19.]

It is clear then that Paul is not calling for the condemnation of his opponents (that is, the Judaizers) because they are opposed to him, but rather because they are enemies of the gospel. That gospel is of divine origin, not of Paul’s invention (Gal 1:11–12).

Therefore, those who pervert it subvert God’s redemptive purpose. On those who thus act and teach, the judgment of God is justly pronounced. Thus there is here no real conflict between Paul’s general call for a nonjudgmental spirit and his strong word of judgment here, just as there is no real conflict between Jesus’ teaching on love for one’s opponents and his words of judgment. In both cases, where the work and truth of God is at stake, those who reject it stand under judgment.

See also comment on psalms 137:8–9; 139:20.

3:23–25 The End of the Law?

See comment on romans 10:4.

3:24–26 Is the Church Israel?

See comment on galatians 6:16.

5:2 Christ of No Value?

Galatians 5:2 seems to express a limitation in the work of Christ. Doesn’t this verse devalue the extent and efficacy of Christ’s life and death? Can the submission to something as external as the rite of circumcision blunt the effectiveness of his sacrificial death?

The central theme of Galatians is that salvation is by faith and not by works; that justification (that is, a right relationship with God) is the result of the gracious gift of God’s Son, not human achievement; that freedom from the bondage to sin does not come by even the most meticulous obedience to the law, but through the atoning death of Christ on the cross. This gospel was being undermined and perverted by the so-called Judaizers.

These Jewish Christians opposed the Pauline gospel as antinomian (“against law”), apparently believing that in addition to God’s work in Christ, both Jewish and Gentile Christians needed to observe the law, including particularly ceremonial and cultic

observances, such as special days, kosher foods and circumcision (Gal 3:1–7; 4:8–11, 17, 21–22). Paul calls them the “circumcision group” (Gal 2:12), because their demand for obedience to the Mosaic law from the followers of the Messiah expressed itself most specifically and radically in the demand that Gentiles, in order to become full members in the new covenant community, be circumcised (Gal 6:12).

That demand of the Judaizers Paul rejects uncompromisingly, because it sets up a criterion for salvation—namely, human achievement (Gal 3:3)—which lies outside God’s way of salvation. To seek righteousness—which in this context does not refer to moral-ethical goodness, but conveys Paul’s technical sense of “right relationship with God”—through observance of the law would be to “set aside the grace of God” (Gal 2:21).

Why is Paul so opposed to any intrusion of legal observance? One reason is worked out in the opening three chapters of Romans. While as a rabbi Paul seems clearly to have believed that complete obedience to the Mosaic law was possible (Phil 3:4–6), he was just as clearly convinced that such a path toward relationship with God led inevitably to self-righteousness, to pride in one’s religious achievements, to boasting before others and God, and therefore to an implicit rejection of a stance of humility before the Creator. A second and perhaps more fundamental reason for rejecting the way of external, legalistic obedience was Paul’s conviction that from the very beginning of redemptive history, the divinely established way toward saving relationship with God was by faith, not by works of the law (Gal 3:6–25; see also Rom 3–4).

On the basis of these convictions, Paul argues that if a system of law, even the Mosaic law, could impart life, then a right relationship with God “would certainly have come by the law” (Gal 3:21); but the only power the law has is to reveal our standing as sinners before a holy God and to show that we are finally dependent on his grace, receiving it in faith (Gal 3:18, 22–25).

That understanding of God’s way of salvation, in contrast to the way of the Judaizers, elicits from Paul the charge that submission to circumcision [as a means toward right standing before and with God] means that Christ “is of no value” to them whatsoever (Gal 5:2). The bracketed phrase seeks to interpret Paul’s meaning, in light of a parallel statement he makes in Galatians 2:21; namely, “if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing.” The center of Paul’s concern is of course that circumcision—which for Paul is “shorthand” for life lived in relation to the Mosaic law—understood and practiced as a means to righteousness, excludes the operation of God’s grace. It is in fact the assertion that one can make it through personal achievement; as such it negates the necessity of the atonement.

For those who choose that way “Christ will be of no value,” for the attempt “to be justified by law” leads to alienation from Christ and departure from grace. If we live

“by the law,” Christ and his atoning work have no value for us. But if we are “in Christ Jesus, neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any value. The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love” (Gal 5:6).

See also comment on acts 16:3; 21:21; philippians 2:12–13; 3:4–6.

5:12 Hate Your Enemies?

See comment on psalm 139:20.

5:19–21 Who Inherits the Kingdom?

See comment on 1 corinthians 6:9–10.

6:16 Who Is the Israel of God?

Galatians 6:16 is part of Paul’s benediction with which he closes the letter. Who is included among “the Israel of God”? What is “this rule”? The answer to the last question emerges quite naturally from the context. Based on differing understandings of both the structure of the sentence and Paul’s terminology, opinions vary widely concerning the answer to the first.

Let us begin with the context. Paul has argued throughout this letter that God’s way of salvation consists of his grace, offered in the atoning death of Jesus Christ through which persons are freed from the bondage of sin and legalistic religion. This redemptive work of God in Christ is appropriated in the response and life of faith. That thesis is worked out over against what can be called a Judaizing faction among the Galatian Christians who believed and taught that right standing before God (that is, justification) is achieved, for Jews and Gentiles alike, only through adherence to the ritual of circumcision (and other parts of the ceremonial-ritual law).

This discussion is brought to a conclusion in the verses immediately preceding our saying (Gal 6:12–15). Those who insist on circumcision (which for Paul is here shorthand for religion under the law) are really seeking to establish an external measuring stick for human achievement before God on the basis of which one can boast (Gal 6:12–13). But, counters Paul, the only ground for “boasting” is outside us, namely, the cross of Christ (Gal 6:14).

In such a case, boasting really becomes the praise of God for his unspeakable gift! That leads Paul to the sum of the matter: “Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything; what counts is a new creation” (Gal 6:15). That is, in the new creation inaugurated in Christ “there is neither Jew nor Greek” (Gal 3:28; see also 2 Cor 5:17).

Neither the practice of external ritual or ceremony nor its absence is a basis for redemptive relationship with God. The only basis is the new creature, established by grace and through faith. That is the “rule” (or principle) to which Paul refers in this saying.

An understanding of the structure of the sentence, as well as the unique term “the Israel of God,” is our second order of business. Notice first that the sentence punctuations in our English version, as well as in the Greek texts behind them, are the work of interpretation. Thus there are often a number of ways in which the text can be punctuated. And how one punctuates can determine the meaning or nuances of a text.

In Galatians 6:16 there are basically two options, and slight variations within each of these:

1. The text used in this book (NIV [NIV New International Version] ), as well as most other modern English versions, places the essential comma between two sentence

parts: one contains the words “peace” and “mercy,” the other contains the term “the Israel of God.” This reading, based on the punctuation of the commonly accepted Greek text,2 [2 The standard New Testament Greek text editions are those by Eberhard Nestlé and the United Bible Societies text (edited by Aland, Black, Metzger, Wikgren). It must be remembered that the punctuation is a result of the editors’ decisions.]

can be understood in at least two ways: (a) The benediction “peace and mercy” is pronounced on one group. “All who follow this rule,” in part one of the sentence, are identified as “the Israel of God” in the second part of the sentence. Such a meaning is implied in the NIV [NIV New International Version] reading of “even to the Israel of God,” and the RSV [RSV Revised Standard Version] ’s “upon the Israel of God.” (b) The benediction is pronounced on two groups, those “who follow this rule” and the Israel of God. However, the term “Israel of God” is seen as a comprehensive term, including those in Galatia “who follow this rule.” Among modern versions, the TEV

[TEV Today’s English Verision] (“may peace and mercy be with them—with them and with all of God’s people”) and NEB [NEB New English Bible] (“and upon the whole Israel of God”) support this understanding of the text.

2. Some commentators punctuate the Greek text differently.3 [3 For example, E. Burton, The Epistle to the Galatians, International Critical Commentary (New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1970), pp. 357–58; also George Simpson Duncan, The Epistle of Paul to the Galatians (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1934), p. 192.] It is grammatically possible to place the decisive comma so that the terms “peace” and “mercy” are separated as belonging to two distinct parts of the sentence. In that case it would read: “Peace to all who follow this rule, as well as [or, ‘and’] mercy upon the Israel of God.” On this reading, the benediction is divided and addresses two very distinct groups. “Peace” is pronounced upon believers in Christ (“those who follow this rule”); “mercy” is pronounced upon Israelites who are not yet, but may become, participants in the redeemed community of God’s people.

The first option assumes that the term “Israel of God” is used by Paul for all those who are “in Christ,” whether they are Jews or Gentiles. Since Paul uses the term only here, and it is found nowhere else in the entire New Testament, the use of it as synonymous with “Christian” must be derived from the broader Pauline context.

As in Galatians, so in Romans Paul argues that righteousness (right standing before God) comes by faith, not by works of the law. In Romans 4 he shows that way to have been God’s way from the start. Proof is given in the example of Abraham, who believed God and thus came into right relationship with him before the external sign of circumcision was given (Rom 4:9–11). From this Paul draws the conclusion that Abraham “is the father of all who believe,” both the uncircumcised (that is, Gentile believers, Rom 4:11) and the circumcised (that is, Jewish believers, Rom 4:12). Since Abraham (the father of historical Israel) is also the father of all who believe, the designation of this company as the “Israel of God” would surely be appropriate (see also Rom 9:6–8).

Further support for such a correlation comes from Philippians, where Paul pointedly calls all those who put their faith in Christ Jesus “the circumcision,” in contrast to those “who put [their] confidence in the flesh” (Phil 3:3), that is, who depend on their circumcision (Phil 3:4–6). In Galatians, too, “those who believe” are called “children of Abraham” (Gal 3:7), including Gentiles who respond in faith (Gal 3:8). This strand in Paul’s thought is brought to a focal point in Galatians 3:26–29. Addressing the company of believers, consisting of both Jewish and Gentile believers, Paul says to them, “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:26). This designation is grounded in the Old Testament, where Israelites are called “sons of the

living God” (Hos 1:10) or, collectively, “Son [of God]” (Hos 11:1). Here emerges the equation: Israel = son/sons of God = believers in Christ. Paul concludes the thought by affirming that those who are in Christ, both Jew and Gentile, are Abraham’s offspring (Gal 3:27–29).

It would be difficult to deny that the designation of the Christian fellowship as “Israel of God” could have emerged out of Paul’s thought-development. Thus there is a high degree of probability in this line of interpretation. Yet the second option outlined—

which assigns to the term “Israel of God” a more limited scope—has merit and should be given serious consideration.

In addition to seeing Abraham as “the father of all who believe” (Rom 4:11), Paul distinguished two groups within historic Israel. In Romans 2:28–29, he argues that there are two kinds of Jews: those who meet only the external requirements (circumcision and physical descent) and those who, in addition, are authentic Jews inwardly, whose circumcision is not only external but also of the heart, worked “by the Spirit.” To this idea of a “true” Israel within the historical, physical Israel may be assigned Paul’s concept of the “remnant,” which he explores in Romans 11. By God’s grace, there are those within Israel who, like Paul, will yet respond in faith to God’s work in Christ (Rom 11:1, 5). Is it possible, in light of this distinction between the whole people and the remnant, that Paul coined the term “Israel of God” to distinguish the remnant from simply “Israel”? If so, this text would receive a unique meaning.

Paul’s benediction of “peace” would be addressing “those who follow the rule,” that is, those who already belong to Christ. The benediction of “mercy” would be addressed to the faithful remnant within Israel, all those who had not yet grasped God’s revelation in Jesus the Christ, but who by God’s mercy would yet come to faith.

A final support for such an interpretation comes from the fact that the normal Pauline sequence in benediction and greetings is “grace and peace” (or “mercy and peace”), while here it is “peace and mercy.” Since, according to Paul, God’s mercy is that which leads to the condition of peace (with God, self and others), logical consistency would assign “peace” to those who are already in Christ, and “mercy” to those who are “not yet.” That is plausible, with the reservation that greetings and benedictions are not always or necessarily logical formulations.

Whichever interpretation is accepted, one fact is clear; namely, Paul’s overall view saw the church, the fellowship of God’s people, as a new covenant community in which Jew and Greek, Israelite and Gentile, become one new people. And this people is the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham at the beginning of redemptive history: “All peoples on earth will be blessed through you” (Gen 12:3; Gal 3:29).

See also comment on romans 11:26; revelation 7:4.

Ephesians

1:10 Universalism?

See comment on colossians 1:19.

1:11 Predestination?

See comment on romans 8:29.

2:15 Abolishing the Law?

See comment on romans 10:4.

4:9–10 Christ Ascending and Descending?

The section of the epistle in which Ephesians 4:9–10 is located makes clear that the subject of the action referred to is Christ. But what does the language of “ascending”

and “descending” refer to? What are the “lower earthly regions”? Are there various

“heavens”? With what does he “fill the whole universe”?

These questions literally tumble out of the text at us. That is particularly remarkable because the thrust of Paul’s thought in the total context of this passage is crystal clear.

The obscurity of this hard saying is at least partially due to the fact that the question in Ephesians 4:10 (“What does ‘he ascended’ mean?”) is in reference to an Old Testament text cited in Ephesians 4:8. Hoping to get a clue to Paul’s purpose in citing the text of Psalm 68:18, we read the text in its own setting. That, rather than helping, confuses even more when we realize that Paul cites the text with a significant alteration, apparently to make it fit his own purpose.

The central theological theme in the first four chapters of Ephesians is that the church of Jesus Christ is a creation of God in which a divided, fragmented humanity can be reconciled into one unified organism (Eph 1:22–23). The dividing wall between Jew and Gentile has been broken down (Eph 2:14–16). Those who were once “far away”

(that is, Gentiles) have become part of God’s “household,” which is being shaped into a “holy temple” in which God is present by his Spirit (Eph 2:17–22).

It is the unity and life and ministry of this “temple,” this body of Christ, which is the subject matter of Ephesians 4. After expressing the unity of the church in eloquent terms, grounding that unity in the fact that there is one Spirit, one Lord, one God and Father of all (Eph 4:1–6), Paul moves on to acknowledge the body’s diversity. Christ has given grace to the members of this body (Eph 4:7) for one purpose: that there would be apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers (Eph 4:11) who would prepare all of God’s people for service, so that the whole body would grow toward maturity, expressing in this world “the fullness of Christ” (Eph 4:12–13). It is the gifting of the church for its task which is the context for understanding Paul’s reference to Psalm 68:18 and its application to Christ.

Paul moves from consideration of the unity of the church toward its diversity by stating that “to each one of us grace has been given as Christ has apportioned it” (or, more literally, “according to the measure of Christ’s gift,” Eph 4:7 RSV [RSV Revised Standard Version] , emphasis mine). Paul knew that the ascended, exalted Christ had poured out the gift of the Spirit at Pentecost (Acts 2:32–38) and that by this Spirit the church had been endowed with a variety of gifts (1 Cor 12:4–11).

As often in Paul’s writings, a word or phrase or concept he is using recalls for him a word from Scripture, which he then proceeds to quote: “When he ascended on high, he

led captives in his train and gave gifts to men.” It is apparent that the point of contact between what he has just written and the text from Psalm 68:18 is that this text speaks of an exalted, victorious one who gave gifts to his people. However, when we read the Psalm verse in the Old Testament, we note that the victorious one “received gifts from men.” What is at first either disturbing or puzzling is the impression that Paul alters the Old Testament text to suit his purpose.

The Psalm quoted celebrates the victory of God over Israel’s enemies and pictures that victory in terms of a triumphal procession to the sanctuary on Mount Zion, where the vanquished bring their gifts of tribute to the victorious king, who receives their gifts (Ps 68:17–18). This depiction of the triumph of God may have struck Paul as expressing well the triumph of the messianic king in cross, resurrection and exaltation.

But since he thought about the gifting of the church by the exalted Christ, and the Psalm speaks of the exalted One receiving gifts from men, does Paul simply alter the text? One answer has been that Paul may neither have intended to quote exactly nor to interpret, “but in familiar Jewish fashion adapts the passage to his own use, knowing that his readers … would recognize the alteration and see the purpose of it.”1 [1 T. K.

Abbott, Epistles to the Ephesians and Colossians, International Critical Commentary (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1897), p. 112.] That is possible. But there is another, and likely better, explanation.

In Paul’s time most Jews no longer understood Hebrew, Aramaic being their everyday language. In the synagogue, when the Hebrew text was read, a translator would freely render the text in a paraphrased form, often clarifying difficulties and making contemporary applications. These “interpretative translations” were handed down in oral form and later written down in what were called Targums. Now the Aramaic Targum text of Psalm 68:18 has precisely the change from “receiving gifts” to “giving gifts” that we find in Paul’s quotation. It is quite possible that Paul simply makes use of the rabbinic interpretation of the Psalm passage. That interpretation may have arisen from the recognition that though the Psalm celebrates God’s victory in analogy to the victory procession of earthly monarchs who receive gifts of homage and tribute from their conquered subjects, the exalted God of Israel is the one who bestows salvation on his people.

Having quoted the Psalm text, in keeping with its Targumic restatement, Paul now continues in typical rabbinic fashion to explore an aspect of the Psalm text in relation to the action of Christ, the messianic king who came and triumphed over death and was exalted to lordship (Eph 1:20–21; see also Phil 2:5–11). Thus the words “he ascended” (from the Psalm), when applied to Christ, presuppose (or imply) “that he also descended to the lower, earthly regions” (Eph 4:9). What “descent” is in view here? And what are “the lower, earthly regions” (or, as in the NIV [NIV New International Version] notes, “the depths of the earth”)?

One view holds that Paul has in mind the Incarnation, the descent of the Son of Man from heaven to earth (see Jn 3:13). Within this view, there are two ways in which “the lower, earthly regions” can be understood: (1) It could be seen as a reference to the lowest parts of the earth, namely, the underworld—the world of the dead, Hades. That could refer simply to the fact that the descent of Christ climaxed in death and burial.

Or it could be a reference to the idea found in the New Testament only in 1 Peter 3:18–20 that before his resurrection, Christ entered the world of the dead and preached to the departed spirits. (2) It could be taken to mean “the lower, that is, earthly regions,” in contrast to the height of heaven to which the Christ ascended (Eph 4:10).

An alternate view holds that the “ascent” precedes the “descent.” In light of everything said previously in this epistle, Paul had no need to prove the Incarnation; that could be presupposed. Since the immediate context (Eph 4:7, 11) speaks about the giving of gifts to the church by the ascended, triumphant Lord, what Paul needed to show was that a descent was necessary in order for the exalted one to give these gifts. That descent is identified with the coming of Christ in the Spirit.

Paul’s concept of the indwelling Christ (Eph 3:17) and John’s teaching about the coming of Christ to the believers in the Spirit, subsequent to Jesus’ “exaltation” (Jn 14:23–24), would support the possibility of such an understanding of the text.

However, since Paul nowhere speaks of the gift of the Spirit or the indwelling presence of Christ as a result of a “descent,” it seems more probable that the well-established Pauline concept of Christ’s humiliation and exaltation (Phil 2:5–11), in that order, stands behind the sequence here. This would admirably fit the context of the giving of Christ’s gifts to the church. The one who emptied himself of divine glory and humbled himself even to death has been highly exalted “in order to fill the whole universe. It was he who gave … ”

With what does he, literally, “fill the whole”? The TEV [TEV Today’s English Verision] interprets the text to mean “fill the whole universe with his presence.” The RSV [RSV Revised Standard Version] simply translates, “fill all things.” Some have understood this “filling” in direct connection with the giving of the gifts, that is, he fills everything (or all) with his gifts.

Perhaps it is better to take the other common sense of the Greek word pleµrooµ

(“fill”), which is to “fulfill” or “bring to completion.” That meaning would correspond well with a similar statement made earlier in the letter (Eph 1:23), where Paul speaks of the completion of the work of Christ. In that case, Paul speaks of Christ’s descent (Incarnation) and ascent (ascension, exaltation) as having one purpose: to bring the mysterious purposes of God for humanity (Eph 1:8–10) to their completeness, to

“fulfill” them. And the giving of gifts to the church is part of that “bringing all things to completion,” since it is to lead to the church’s perfection as expressing “the fullness of Christ” in the world.

5:3–5 Who Inherits the Kingdom?

See comment on 1 corinthians 6:9–10.

5:22 Wives, Submit?

The difficulty of Ephesians 5:22 is not in understanding the rather straightforward language, but its meaning. Since the patriarchal norms of the Greco-Roman world, built into the rules and regulations for everyday life and relationships, clearly demanded a wife’s submission to the authority of the husband, is Paul simply advocating the continuance of conventional norms? If so, why would that be necessary? Does the qualifying phrase “as unto the Lord” introduce a radically new dimension into the nature and form of submission (or subordination)?

Of utmost importance for a proper grasp of Paul’s intention are (1) the part this saying

plays in the larger argument and (2) the specific meaning of terms and phrases in this saying and the surrounding text.

The larger context of this saying deals with Paul’s concern that the believers, as a community and as individuals, would be strengthened by the Spirit of Christ (Eph 3:16–17) so that they would grow toward maturity (Eph 4:11–16). Such maturity comes as they are “kind and compassionate to one another” (Eph 4:32), living a life of love in imitation of God, as modeled in Christ’s self-giving, sacrificial servant ministry (Eph 5:1–2).

How does this “imitation of Christ” work itself out concretely in the fellowship and common human relationships? That is the subject matter of Ephesians 5–6, and Ephesians 5:22 is part of that.

A general discussion of Christian behavior under the admonition “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness” (Eph 5:3–16) is followed by more specific instructions regarding relationships in the fellowship and other social contexts, like the family. This section is introduced by the admonition “understand what the will of the Lord is. … Be filled with the Spirit” (5:17–18 RSV [RSV Revised Standard Version]

). Then, by means of four closely related participial phrases (5:19–21), he shows how the Spirit-filled and guided life, in tune with God’s will, expresses itself: (1) “speaking to each other,” (2) “singing and making music,” (3) “giving thanks” and (4)

“submitting to one another.”2 [2 For an excellent discussion of the meaning of these four participial phrases, see Markus Barth, Epistle to the Ephesians, The Anchor Bible, 2 vols. (New York: Doubleday, 1974), 2:583–85.] It is this last participial phrase which is critical for our understanding of Ephesians 5:22.

Paul has clearly shown throughout the epistle that Christians are a new social order created to express the fullness of Christ in the midst of the old, fallen order. What he is saying in Ephesians 5:21 is that the Spirit empowers Christians to exist in relationship with each other in a radical, culturally transforming way, namely, through mutual self-submission. The ground for this radically new approach to human relationships is “out of reverence for Christ.” The reason for that reverence (or, perhaps better, awe) is the radical nature of Christ’s earthly life, the total, free submission of himself as God’s suffering servant, climaxed in his self-giving on the cross (Eph 5:2, 25). It is reverence and awe toward that self-giving love that is to motivate our mutual self-submission to each other.

This understanding of Ephesians 5:21 (“Submit to one another”) sheds critical light on Ephesians 5:22 (“Wives, submit … ”). Both the English translations and commentators often fail us at this point, printing the participial clause of Ephesians 5:21 as an isolated paragraph, separating it from both the preceding clauses and what follows (for example, NIV [NIV New International Version] , NEB [NEB New English Bible] ) or assigning it either to the preceding paragraphs (NASB [NASB New American Standard Bible] ) or to head a new paragraph (RSV [RSV Revised Standard Version] , TEV [TEV Today’s English Verision] ). None of these do justice to the structure of the whole passage and to the grammar.

The participle of Ephesians 5:21 is the last of a series of four, as shown above, and clearly belongs to what precedes it. This verse also supplies the verb “to submit” for this hard saying, without which Ephesians 5:22 would be grammatically incomplete and without meaning. The verse in Greek reads literally: “Wives, to your husbands as to the Lord.” The verb “to submit” is absent and can only be read into the sentence

because of the intimate connection between the two verses. Ephesians 5:21 is therefore transitional, both belonging to what precedes and setting the agenda for what follows.

Thus the kind of radical self-submission to one another which evidences the fullness of the Spirit is now explored in terms of its implications for husbands and wives. That is, what does this self-submission, modeled in Jesus, look like in marriage?

The submission of the wife to the husband is to be “as to the Lord.” It is no longer to be the kind expected as a matter of course by cultural norms and forced upon women—who were seen as inferior to males in both Jewish and Gentile cultures. No, her submission is to be freely chosen, being there for her partner “as to the Lord,” that is, as a disciple of the Lord, as one who followed in his servant footsteps, motivated by self-giving love. This kind of submission is not a reinforcement of the traditional norms; it is rather a fundamental challenge to them.

From much of Paul’s correspondence we can see that the new freedom from restrictive and often enslaving cultural norms brought by the gospel led at times to rejection of the very relationships in which these norms had been operative, such as marriage itself.

It is that danger which Paul may be addressing in Ephesians 5:23. Appealing to the creation account in Genesis 2, where the woman is created out of the being of the male (Gen 2:21–23), Paul says, “For the husband [man] is the head of the wife [woman].”

As discussed in the chapter on 1 Corinthians 11:3, in common Greek the idea of

“authority over” was not normally conveyed by the word “head” ( kephaleµ). Besides its literal, physical meaning (“head of man or beast”), kephaleµ had numerous metaphorical meanings, including that of “source.” It is this meaning that seems most suited to the texts (1 Cor 11:3 and Eph 5:23) in which the relationship of husband and wife (or man and woman) is addressed.3 [3 In Ephesians 4:15–16 the Greek word kephaleµ (“head”) is also used with the metaphorical meaning of “source.” Christ is the “head” (that is, source) from whom the whole body grows and upbuilds itself in love. In the physiology of the period, the physical head was understood to give life to the rest of the body.]

In both texts appeal is made to Genesis 2, where the woman is created from the man.

Thus Paul, in arguing against those who would reject the marriage relationship because of a new freedom in Christ (see Gal 3:28), reminds them that, according to God’s design, the man is the source of the woman’s being; they were created for each other and belong together, as Ephesians 5:31, citing Genesis 2:24, underlines. Similarly (and here begins the analogy between husband/wife and Christ/church), Christ is the kephaleµ (“source”) of the church’s life (Eph 5:23). His relation to the church is not expressed in “authority” language, but in “source” language. Christ is the church’s savior because he laid down his life for her.

A final argument for the validity of a radically new self-submission of wife to husband is now given: “As the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything” (Eph 5:24). What is the nature of the church’s submission to Christ? It is freely assumed in humble response to his self-giving, sacrificial servanthood and his continuing empowering and nurturing presence. The church’s submission to Christ has nothing to do with external control or coercion. For the life and ministry of Jesus demonstrates uncompromisingly his rejection of “power over others” as valid in the new creation which he is inaugurating (Lk 22:24–27).4 [4 See also Mark 8:31–38; 9:30–37; 10:32–45; John 13:12–17; Philippians 2:5–11.] Christ stands in relation to the church, his bride, not as one who uses his power to control and demand, but rather to invite and serve.

Having radically challenged the nature of the culturally expected and demanded

submission of the wife to the husband, Paul now goes on (Eph 5:25–32) to show what self-submission by the husband to the wife looks like in practice. The husband’s self-submission (Eph 5:21) is to express itself in the kind of radical self-giving love that Christ demonstrated when “he gave himself up for” the life of the church (Eph 5:25).

Husbands were of course expected to have erotic regard for their wives. But within a culture in which women were often not more than doormats on which male supremacy could wipe its feet, and in a religious setting where Jewish males thanked God daily that he had not made them a Gentile, a slave or a woman—in such a context erotic regard for the wife more often than not became a means of self-gratification and control over the wife. That position of superiority is daringly challenged by Paul’s call upon husbands to love ( agapaoµ) their wives, that is, to be there for them and with them in self-giving, nurturing, serving love. For that is the way Christ loved the church, and husbands, like their wives, are to be imitators of Christ (Eph 5:2).

See also comment on genesis 2:18; 3:16; 1corinthians 11:3; 11:7; 1 peter 3:6.

6:5–8 Did Paul Approve of Slavery?

When addressing slaves in Ephesians, Paul tells them to obey their masters. There is not a hint of a suggestion that slavery is wrong. Does this mean that Paul approved of slavery? Does the Bible teach that slavery is morally acceptable?

We could add to this passage the parallel passage in Colossians 3:22–25, the whole book of Philemon, and 1 Peter 2:18–25, for in none of them is there any criticism of the institution of slavery, and in two of the three there is an exhortation to the slave to obey his or her master. In other words, in the New Testament there is no clear critique of slavery. This passage is a good example of a general New Testament attitude.

Having said the above, we see in this passage the general strategy that Paul took toward social reform. In Ephesians 5–6 there are three pairs of social relationships mentioned (wives and husbands; children and fathers; slaves and masters). In each of the three Paul addresses the subordinate first. He calls them to the traditional virtue of submission (which any pagan moralist would also have called for). Yet Paul adds a new twist in that in one form or another he reframes the traditional duty in terms of a relationship to Christ. In other words, he takes it out of the earthly context and puts it in the context of something that the Lord will reward. In doing this he qualifies the absoluteness of the duty, for obviously one cannot do something “as unto the Lord” or

“like slaves of Christ” if it is something that the Lord has made it perfectly clear that he hates. This may seem like a small point to us, but in that world the obedience of wives to husbands, children to parents and slaves to masters was understood to be absolute.

These three classes of people were thought to have no right (or even in some cases no ability) of moral decision beyond simple obedience. But Paul addresses them as full moral beings and puts their obedience, demanded by their culture, into a wider theological context. Obedience now has a higher meaning, and they must make decisions regarding it and set limits to it (although in setting limits they will probably face suffering). Paul has raised the status of the subordinate to that of a full human being before God, yet he has done this without calling for rebellion. Paul teaches this partially because Christ also gave up his rights and suffered, so rebellion does not express the spirit of Christ, but even more because social status does not matter to him. The important issue is that one is serving Christ. Social status is simply the

context for that service (compare 1 Cor 7:17–24).

Yet in each pair of relationships Paul also addresses the social superior and points out that he (in all cases he is addressing males) has responsibilities toward his subordinate.

The husband is to lay down his life for his wife; the father is not to exasperate his child.

The father also has a duty of moral instruction. The master is to treat slaves appropriately in the light of knowing that in reality both he and they are slaves of the same heavenly Master (Eph 6:9). After all, even Paul calls himself a slave of Jesus Christ. This part of Paul’s teaching is revolutionary. It was unheard of to call a social superior to respect and respond to a call to duty toward social inferiors. In fact, one could say that Paul brings the masters down to the level of their slaves and makes them treat their slave as a brother or sister. This implication in Ephesians becomes quite explicit in Philemon. Paul’s strategy, then, is to elevate the inferior and to abase the superior by pointing to their relationship to Jesus Christ as the context for all other relationships in their lives.

Having looked at Paul’s general strategy, let us look at slavery in particular. In the social world of Paul’s day slavery was an accepted institution. There was also a genuine fear of slaves. In Rome slaves were prohibited from wearing distinctive clothing for fear that they would discover how numerous they were and start a revolt.

Slaves all over the Roman world were under the total control of their masters. If a master wished, he could have a slave executed (or kill the slave himself). While this was frowned on if there was no reason for it, it was not outside of the master’s rights.

It was just as today a person can demolish their house if they wish, even though their neighbors may think it a stupid and wasteful act. A slave in the first century was property.

Given this context, what would it look like if Christianity were believed to be calling slaves to disobedience? Christianity was already viewed as a subversive form of thought. It rejected the traditional gods (which made it seem treasonous to city and country, for worship of the traditional gods was a major expression of patriotism) and did not allow any compromises in this matter. It rejected many of the “normal” forms of recreation (drinking bouts, use of prostitutes and the like). It formed its members into “secret societies” (at least in the eyes of pagan observers), and in those societies it was rumored master and slave ate the same food at the same table and that wives were present along with their husbands. In other words, first-century social decorum was not observed in the church. Notice that in the New Testament there is no separation of religious duty according to social status. Every member is spiritually gifted, whatever their social status. Any person can become an elder, not just freeborn males. Every member of the church is called to the same obedience to Christ, slave or free, male or female.

So Paul (and other New Testament writers) calls the social inferiors, including slaves, to obedience. This both reassured the Roman society and made the real reason for persecution clear. Christian slaves should be more obedient slaves than other slaves, for they knew that the “pay” in heaven would be good. If their masters persecuted them, it should be for their faith and nothing else. Christianity was not subversive in the sense of stirring up rebellion. At the same time, it raised the slave to a new status of an equal human being before Christ. After all, in the eyes of the church slavery was just a job, and what job or social status one had on earth did not matter (Jesus did not have a great social status at any time in his life either, and he died a most shameful death, an executed slave’s death). If the job was done “as a slave of Christ” the reward was

equal, whether one was a human slave or a human master. Paul’s strategy was thus that of producing an expression of the kingdom of God in the church, not that of trying to change society.

What was the result of this strategy? The church never adopted a rule that converts had to give up their slaves. Christians were not under law but under grace. Yet we read in the literature of the second century and later of many masters who upon their conversion freed their slaves. The reality stands that it is difficult to call a person a slave during the week and treat them like a brother or sister in the church. Sooner or later the implications of the kingdom they experienced in church seeped into the behavior of the masters during the week. Paul did in the end create a revolution, not one from without, but one from within, in which a changed heart produced changed behavior and through that in the end brought about social change. This change happened wherever the kingdom of God was expressed through the church, so the world could see that faith in Christ really was a transformation of the whole person.

Did Paul believe in slavery? Yes, indeed. He believed that all Christians are all equally slaves of Jesus Christ and that that is the one social relationship that has permanent value.

See also comment on exodus 21:2–11; 1 corinthians 7:17, 20.

6:12 Many Gods and Lords?

See comment on 1 corinthians 8:5–6.

Philippians

2:6 Is Jesus God?

See comment on john 1:1.

2:10–11 Universalism?

See comment on colossians 1:19.

2:12–13 Work Out Your Salvation?

Philippians 2:12–13 is difficult only when we do not hear it within the context of everything else Paul says about God’s work of redemption and our involvement in that work. Certainly since the Reformation, when the essence of Paul’s gospel was captured in the joyful proclamation sola gratia, sola fide (“by grace alone, by faith alone”), anything which even hints at “works righteousness” or “salvation by works” is suspect. And that is the concern which often emerges when believers read these verses.

A careful look at Paul’s teaching on all aspects of God’s redemptive work in Christ reveals that salvation is not based on the accumulated merits of our piety and good deeds. No, salvation is God’s business from beginning to end. It is inaugurated,

maintained and completed by him. Yet we human beings, the objects of that divine activity, are not robots manipulated by the divine button-pusher. We are creatures created in God’s image (Gen 1:26–27), called to respond in faith and love to the Creator and to give ourselves in active participation to God’s purposes. It is this dual perspective of divine action and human response and participation which is in view in this text.

The center of Paul’s proclamation, repeated in numerous ways throughout his writings, is most concisely and eloquently stated in Ephesians 2:8–9: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—

not by works, so that no one can boast.” The meaning is without ambiguity; there are no conditions imposed (such as “if … then”). God’s reaching toward us in unconditional love (Rom 5:8) is all grace. We neither deserve it nor earn it, and therefore we cannot take credit for it (“so that no one can boast”). The verb “you have been saved” is in the perfect tense and the passive voice, which means that the action comes from outside ourselves and that it is something which is both an accomplished act and a reality which continues in its effectiveness through the present and into the future.

Now this strong affirmation is immediately followed in Ephesians 2:10 by the words

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works.” Here, as throughout his letters, Paul is very clear about the fact that restored relationship with God is the condition within which our lives are being transformed in such a way that God’s purposes for our lives are brought about. A few examples will make this abundantly clear.

In Romans 6 believers are defined as those who have been baptized into Christ, buried with him and raised with him so that we “might walk in newness of life” (Rom 6:3–4

RSV [RSV Revised Standard Version] ). Here the transaction of being saved is pictured as accomplished fact; the “walking in newness of life” as a possibility yet to be realized. Then Paul goes on to say that our sinful self has been “crucified with” Christ, that we are no longer “slaves to sin” (Rom 6:5–11).

The affirmation of this accomplished fact is then immediately followed by the imperative: “Therefore do not let sin reign. … Do not offer [yourselves] to sin as instruments of wickedness … but rather to God … as instruments of righteousness”

(Rom 6:12–13).

In Galatians, where salvation by faith in Christ is particularly stressed (for example, in Gal 2:16, “a man is not justified by observing the law but by faith in Jesus Christ”), Paul can also stress that “in Christ,” that is, in our relationship to God in Christ, what really matters is “faith expressing itself through love” (Gal 5:6). Therefore, “serve one another in love” (Gal 5:13).

The seeming tension between affirmations of accomplished salvation and a life in which a new reality is expressed and put to work is partially due to the fact that Paul’s use of particular words or expressions is somewhat flexible. In this Philippians text, salvation is a reality still in process and yet to be accomplished. In Romans 1:16 and Ephesians 1:13 the term salvation is used in a general, comprehensive sense and as a synonym for gospel (that is, the good news of, and power for, salvation). In 2 Corinthians 7:10, repentance is said to lead to salvation. There are other texts in which salvation is depicted as the final stage or event in the redemptive activity of God. The

Thessalonians are told that they were chosen “to be saved through the sanctifying work of the Spirit” (2 Thess 2:13) and that one piece of the Christian’s armor against the darkness was “the hope of salvation” (1 Thess 5:8). The clearest example of the futuristic use of the term is in Romans 13:11, where we hear that “salvation is nearer now than when we first believed.”

When we take all these aspects together, we see that Paul thought of salvation as the totality of God’s redemptive work; yet he freely used the term also to denote various parts of the whole. The best illustration of Paul’s understanding of salvation in its totality, described in terms of its various stages, is found in Romans 5. We “have been justified through faith” (Rom 5:1). To be justified—Paul’s most usual term for what happens to us when we respond in faith to God’s love in Christ—is to be brought into right relationship with God, a condition he describes as “peace with God” (Rom 5:1).

The culmination of that which has thus begun is sharing “the glory of God” (Rom 5:2).

Between these two poles, Christian life is characterized by joy in the midst of adversity, hope in the midst of suffering (Rom 5:3–5), because, having been justified by Christ’s sacrificial death (Rom 5:9), the continuing work of the resurrected Lord in the life of the believer will lead to final salvation (Rom 5:10).

The larger context for this saying, as worked out above, consists of three elements: (1) the duality of “already” and “not yet”; (2) the actuality of restored relation with God and the necessity of living in newness of life; (3) the understanding of salvation as the comprehensive work of God in which we participate through faith, hope and love.

Within this context, Philippians 2:12–13 is best understood.

Paul calls his readers to unity in their common life, to be achieved through humble other-directedness (Phil 2:1–4), motivated by the example of Christ’s humiliation and utter self-giving (Phil 2:5–11). It is this work of Christ which for Paul is the basis (“therefore”) of the imperative “work out your salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil 2:12). The salvation which comes to us through Christ’s “obedience to death” (Phil 2:8) is to be “incarnated,” implemented and worked out, within the context of our relationships with each other. The motivation for this “outworking” is “fear and trembling,” not in the sense of “being afraid of,” but rather in the sense of “awe,”

namely, the “awe” which comes when we contemplate God’s work of “amazing grace”

in Christ.

But this “outworking of salvation” in our human contexts—in Philippi toward unity within the congregation—is not “human achievement” on the basis of which we can

“boast.” No, for this outworking of salvation is empowered by the continuing operation of God’s grace, for God is at work “in you” (or “among you”).

Salvation is not something we possess. It is rather a relationship in which we stand.

And within that relationship, we become partakers of God’s Spirit. Thus Christian action is never “our work”; it is always the outgrowth of a dynamic relationship, whose author and completer is God.

See also comment on romans 6:2, 7; 2 corinthians 5:17; james 2:24; 1 peter 1:9.

3:3 Is the Church Israel?

See comment on galatians 6:16.

3:4–6 Faultless Before the Law?

What strikes us immediately about Philippians 3:4–6 is the sense of superiority it seems to convey along with the lofty claim about moral and religious perfection. The tone of this statement seems somehow unbecoming the “apostle to the Gentiles.” Did Paul not say, earlier in this same letter, that a Christlike spirit leads one to consider others better than oneself (Phil 2:3)? And isn’t this the same apostle who invested much of his energy showing that boasting on the basis of human achievement—even in religious practice and moral righteousness—was a hindrance to relationship with God? As to the claim to faultlessness regarding the Mosaic law, did he not also spend a great deal of energy showing that perfection under the law was impossible, that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23)?

The situation addressed in this text, as well as in two other letters where a similar tone emerges (2 Cor 10–12; Gal 1–3), shows that Paul is involved in a polemical situation where he carries on a debate with opponents whose teachings or responses to Paul’s apostolic authority threaten congregational life or the integrity of his gospel. What often characterizes polemical rhetoric is irony or hyperbole or both. One side of the argument is overstated in order to reveal the absurdity or error of the other side. Or the opponents and their position are pilloried in the worst possible light in order to drive home the main point of the argument.

These rhetorical, literary devices account for the tone of superiority conveyed in this text. Paul is arguing either against the Judaizers—those Jewish Christians who continued to demand that both Jewish and Gentile Christians adhere to the rite of circumcision and the ritual law—or against representatives of the synagogue—who opposed Paul’s proclamation in Macedonia from the very beginning (see Acts 16:1–

17:15).1 [1 For example, F. W. Beare, A Commentary on the Epistle to the Philippians, Harper’s New Testament Commentaries (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1959), pp. 103–5.] He calls his opponents in Philippi “dogs,” an epithet of derision commonly used by Jews against Gentiles, now turned against his own people. In a caustic wordplay in reference to the rite of circumcision ( peritomeµ), he labels them “mutilators of the flesh” ( katatomeµ, Phil 3:2). That this is polemical rhetoric is clear in light of the fact that these are the same people for whom Paul has deep compassion and in exchange for whose salvation he is willing to be “cursed and cut off from Christ” (Rom 9:3).

Within this polemic Paul now, in a twist of irony, assumes their point of view and argues on their terms to show that even at its best, the way of achievement under the law does not lead to authentic relationship with God. To insist on the accumulation of merit before God by adhering to the meticulous precepts of the ritual law of Judaism is

“to put confidence in the flesh” (Phil 3:3). The term flesh here denotes human ability, the capacity apart from dependence on God to live life in such a way that God is pleased. If that is the standard by which one is ultimately measured, says Paul, then I have as much reason as anyone, perhaps more, to be confident (Phil 3:4).

The list of qualifying credentials which follows—“circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church” (Phil 3:5–6)—emphasizes his natural credentials, the ritualistic accuracy of acts performed (“on the eighth day” as required by Levitical law) and his personal achievements. This latter is expressed first of all in

the phrase “in regard to the law, a Pharisee.”

Though we have come virtually to equate “Pharisee” with “hypocrite” (largely by generalizing Jesus’ denunciation of those Pharisees who opposed his ministry, see Mt 23:13), to be a member of the religious party of the Pharisees was a badge of honor.

Jewish sources tell us that these religious leaders were extremely meticulous about the observance of the Mosaic law and its traditional interpretations.2 [2 For one of the best treatments of Judaism in the New Testament period and a comprehensive understanding of the religious sects and their beliefs, see G. F. Moore, Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era, 2 vols. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1927).] It was the Pharisees who believed that if all Jews would keep the law perfectly for just one day, the kingdom of God would come. Thus it was their lofty goal to lead Israel to perfect obedience. Many were deeply pious and earnest about the accomplishment of God’s will as they understood it. For many others that same effort became a source of pride and self-righteousness (see Rom 10:2–3). I, says Paul, was one of these Pharisees.

In addition, his zeal for the law as a Pharisee expressed itself in his persecution of those who claimed that the one who had been rejected by the Pharisees was the expected Messiah (Phil 3:6; see also Gal 1:13–14). For him this new faith threatened the inherited tradition, and he saw himself as the defender of that tradition.

The ultimate claim on which “confidence in the flesh” could be based is now made—

namely, legalistic perfection. Paul the Pharisee, schooled by the rabbis in the traditions of the law, was convinced that in all respects he had adhered to the letter of the law; he had kept the myriad rules and regulations that had been established in order to keep the faithful from disobeying the law of Moses. Paul echoes here the words of the young man who, in response to Jesus’ question about the commandments, says in absolute confidence, “All these I have kept since I was a boy” (Lk 18:20–21).

Paul shared the conviction of his fellow rabbis that it was possible to keep the law and that he had, in fact, mastered it.3 [3 E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977).] Though this affirmation may at first sight appear to contradict other statements Paul makes (see Rom 2:17–24; 7:7–20), it is quite consistent with his belief that even if one were able to keep the entire law, one would not be justified (that is, come into right relationship with God) on that basis (Gal 2:16–17; 3:21). Surely Paul’s experience of being grasped by Christ on the Damascus road led to this assessment. In the ultimate act of zealousness for the law—namely, the persecution of Jesus’

followers—he found himself to be opposing the very purposes of God. He discovered that confidence in one’s ability to prove oneself worthy in God’s sight has the effect of separating one from God. Why? Because it implicitly rejects humble dependence on God. Only in faith—in dependence on God—can one be open, both to an understanding of God’s purposes and to God’s empowerment for participating in those purposes.

3:10 Somehow Attain the Resurrection?

In Philippians 3:10 we have no real problem with Paul’s wanting to know Christ, but when he concludes with “somehow to attain to the resurrection from the dead” some of us are surprised. Is Paul talking about “works righteousness”? Did he believe that we earn resurrection through our becoming like Christ? Is he unsure of his salvation?

There is no doubt that this is a difficult passage in that commentators disagree about the details of its interpretation. However, we can affirm first of all that Paul is not

thinking of something that does not come by faith, for in the previous verse he said, “

… and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.” This is not the language of a person trying to earn his own salvation.

Yet this righteousness has a goal. Paul did not want to be righteous simply for his own sake. For Paul, everything was for the sake of a greater intimacy with Christ. He did not so much want to go to heaven as to be with Christ; his desire for heaven was simply because Christ was there. Thus he expresses his goal: “that I may know Christ.”

By this he is talking about personal, experiential knowledge. His one goal above all others was closeness with Jesus.

Closeness with Jesus is made up of two parts. One part is experiencing “the power of his resurrection.” He started off his Christian life that way when he encountered the risen Christ on the Damascus road. He continued his life having experiences of the risen Christ. And he also experienced the resurrection power of Christ flowing through him in various signs and wonders. Yet there is also another part of knowing Christ,

“sharing in his sufferings.” As with Christ’s resurrection, this is first and foremost an appropriation of and identification with Jesus’ own sufferings. Yet as one identifies with Christ, he or she will in fact enter into the sufferings of Christ in this life.

“Becoming like him in his death” may refer to baptism, when one identifies with the death of Christ, and the inward dying to self that results from confessing that Jesus is one’s Lord, but it also implies an outward way of the cross in this life. Jesus’

resurrection came after suffering, so also his followers experience resurrection power, but often in the middle of suffering.

Paul wants to make it clear that resurrection power is not only present identification or inward spiritual experience or even outward signs and wonders done by the power of the resurrected Christ working through a person. All of this would make the Christian life temporal, lasting only for this lifetime. Paul’s deepest expectation was that present intimacy and identification with Jesus would lead to future resurrection life with him.

Perhaps some in Philippi believed that the resurrection was only inward and thus that no future resurrection was needed. Paul states emphatically that his hope is “to attain to the resurrection from the dead.” The expression states pointedly that the ultimate Christian hope is indeed resurrection from among the dead, not merely a hope for something inward and spiritual that one can have in this life.

What is this language “somehow, to attain”? That is the language of humility and of hope. Paul knew he had not yet attained the resurrection, for he had not yet died. His physical resurrection was still a future hope. It is not that he is unsure of it, for Christ is already risen so the eventual resurrection is sure. The point he is making is that he is not there yet. He is still “pressing on.”

Paul is not unsure of his salvation, for he will say in the very next verse that he knows that “Christ Jesus took hold of me.” Yet he wants to attain to everything for which Christ did this. Paul knew he was not yet perfect. He knew that he did not yet know Jesus fully. He knew that he had not yet gained all of the prize that Jesus offered him.

Paul was not a man to be content with less than all that was possible in Jesus.

So far from finding a man unsure of his salvation and trying to earn it, we find a man gripped by Christ Jesus, knowing that his salvation is by faith. Yet we also find a man who because of this relationship will not be satisfied with less than experiencing the

fullness of Christ, including both his resurrection power and his sufferings, so that having reached every goal that Christ has set for him he will finally arrive at the resurrection goal having fulfilled all that to which he was called by grace through faith.

The challenge of this passage, then, is not about whether we as Christians will make it to the resurrection. The challenge is whether we as Christians have caught enough of a vision of Christ that we will not be satisfied unless we know him more fully. And in knowing him more fully, are we just as ready to embrace his sufferings as we are his resurrection? Or do we want to try to get to glory without a cross?

See also comment on philippians 2:12–13; 1 peter 1:9; 2 peter 1:10.

4:4 Joy in All Circumstances?

See comment on habakkuk 3:16–18; james 1:2.

Colossians

1:15 Christ the Firstborn?

We read in Colossians that Christ is “the firstborn over all creation.” What does this mean? If Christ is eternal, how can he be first born? Does this mean that he was simply the first thing that God created?

The term “firstborn” appears 107 times in the NIV [NIV New International Version] , but only two passages create difficulties, this one and Hebrews 1:6: “And again, when God brings his firstborn into the world, he says, ‘Let all God’s angels worship him.’”

Most of the other passages are in the Old Testament and refer to firstborn children of human beings. Two passages refer to Jesus as Mary’s firstborn (Lk 2:7, 23), which is like the normal Old Testament use. Two refer to Christ as the firstborn from the dead (Rev 1:5) or the firstborn of many siblings (Rom 8:29).

Colossians 1:15–20 is a poem (or at least poetic prose) about Christ, which many scholars believe to be a hymn of the early church. This poem appears to revolve around the first word of the Hebrew Bible, “in the beginning” (one word in Hebrew), which contains within it the words for “first” and “head.” The poem divides into two sections. In the first (Col 1:15–17) Christ is presented as the source of creation. In the second section (Col 1:18–20) he is presented as the source of new creation or redemption. Even a quick reading will reveal that the two sections are rough parallels of each other, like two stanzas of a hymn.

In the first stanza Christ is presented as the visible presence (“image”) of the invisible God and the agent of the whole of creation. What is more, he sustains creation.

Likewise in the second stanza he is presented as the One through whom reconciliation came to humankind. He is therefore the source of the church, the One who brought it into being. In both cases Christ stands apart. He is not part of the creation, but the One who made it. He is not part of the church, but the One who brought her into being. It is clear in this passage that Christ is being viewed as God (Col 1:15, 19), exercising the creative and redemptive prerogatives of God.

How, then, can Paul use “firstborn” language? Generally in the Old Testament

“firstborn” means the son who was born first (daughters were not counted if there was a son born after them). That child had a leading place in the family and normally took over as head of the family upon his father’s death. However, even in the Old Testament this is more a right conferred by the father than a place in the birth order.

For example, in Genesis 25:29–34 Esau can sell his birthright, his place as the firstborn, to Jacob, although this sale was apparently not recognized by their father, for Jacob later has to trick Isaac into giving him Esau’s blessing as the firstborn (Gen 27:19). A generation later Jacob makes it clear that it is not the son born first (Reuben) whom he considers to have the rights of the firstborn, but Joseph, the one born to his favorite wife. He demonstrates this by having a special garment made for his heir designate (Gen 37:3–4). In this case a younger son is designated as firstborn, arousing the jealousy of the others, especially when he exercises his designated leadership. Even later Joseph brings his own sons to Jacob, who puts the one born second before the one born first (Gen 48:13–20). Again “firstborn” will not mean the one born first, but the one who will be the leader or the greatest. Even when talking about literal families, then, “firstborn” can indicate a favorite son rather than the one born first. So in Micah 6:7 and Zechariah 12:10 the “firstborn” is the most loved child, the one the parent is most loath to give up.

In Exodus 4:22 we find another meaning of “firstborn” when God calls Israel his

“firstborn son.” This is taken up in Jeremiah 31:9. In neither of these passages (nor anywhere else in the Old Testament) is there even a hint that God in some way gave birth to Israel. What he is saying is that he has designated this nation as his number one nation, the one closest to his heart. To injure this nation is to injure God and to feel the consequences. The symbolic consequence in Exodus is that Pharaoh loses his own literal firstborn son. Thus we see that a nation put in the number one place can also be called a “firstborn.”

Finally, in Psalm 89:27 we discover that the Davidic king will be appointed God’s

“firstborn.” Again there is no hint that God actually has a hand in this man’s procreation. What is meant is that God symbolically adopts him and places him in the number one position in his family. “Firstborn” is thus the place of honor and leadership which the Davidic king is said to occupy.

Now we see why a poetic person steeped in the Old Testament might use the term

“firstborn.” He was already thinking in terms of “heads” and “beginnings” or, in other words, of the number one place in the universe and in redemption. Drawing on the language of Psalm 89:27, he points to Christ as the one who is number one in God’s family, God’s designated “heir” and the ruler next to God. Of course it is also true, as the poem points out, that Christ was before any other parts of creation, although the use is still metaphorical, for a firstborn son does not procreate the rest of the family, while Jesus is said to create all that is created.

The term “firstborn” is flexible enough that it can also be used of Christ as the firstborn from the dead, for he is the first to rise to unending life (although others before him were raised from the dead to temporal life) and also the chief or leader of all those who will rise from the dead.

So Paul is using the language about a firstborn son metaphorically, as the Old Testament does. Jesus is not presented as a creation of God or as a child of God born

through some goddess (as was common in pagan mythology), but as the chief of God’s family, whether the old family of creation or the new family of redemption. He is before it. He is the cause of the family. He is the leader of the whole family. In every way he is first. Yet he is not part of the creation, nor even one of the redeemed, for he is the image of God and the One in whom all the fullness of God dwelt.

1:19 Universalism?

Does Colossians 1:19 mean that all people will be saved (universalism)? Does it teach that even the fallen angels, even Satan himself, will be reconciled to God?

In reading Colossians, we must remember that much of the book parallels Ephesians.

We do find a parallel idea to this hard saying in Ephesians 1:10: “to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment—to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.” This, however, does not answer our question. In what way will “all things” be brought under Christ?

Philippians 2:10–11 also has everything brought under Christ:

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

What we notice is that this “bowing” and “confessing” is not necessarily that of loving subjects. Remember that Psalm 110 was a favorite text of the early church and is frequently quoted in the New Testament. Psalm 110:1 reads:

The Lord says to my Lord:

“Sit at my right hand

until I make your enemies

a footstool for your feet.”

The psalm pictures the king (understood in the New Testament to be Christ) functioning indeed as the ruler and his enemies confessing that he is their lord, but it is not a willing submission nor a salvation. It is the confession of defeated enemies.

In the Ephesians passage the focus is on the redeemed. It is “us” who have been chosen and redeemed and who understand the mystery (Paul’s term for God’s plan) of what God is going to do in the future, namely reveal Christ as the “one head.” If we continue to the end of the sentence (the Greek sentence ends at Eph 1:14) or to the end of the chapter, we find numerous promises, but all of the promises are made to people who have believed on Christ. Thus we are told that God is going to make Christ the one head (especially head of the people of God, unifying Jew and Gentile in the church), yet there does not seem to be any thought of this bringing benefits to people who are not part of the church. In fact, in Ephesians 2:1–13 it is clear that those who do not believe in Christ are in a bad place: “objects of wrath … without hope and without God.”

Does the same perspective hold true in Colossians? As we read on beyond this passage, we find that before the Colossians became Christians they did not have hope of reconciliation. “Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds” (Col 1:21). What made the change for them was that “now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death” (Col 1:22). It is clear that the cause of this is not simply God’s declaration without any response on the Colossians’ part; God’s provision had been appropriated through faith: “If you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel” (Col 1:23). So the perspective of Colossians is that God is indeed reconciling all things to himself, but the means of this reconciliation is the death of Christ and its appropriation by human beings through faith. Outside of the gospel and commitment to it, people are, according to Paul, “dead” (Col 2:13).

When it comes to the state of spiritual beings, Colossians has something to say. In Colossians 2:15 we read, “And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.” Here there is also a type of “reconciliation,” in that these powers and authorities (spiritual beings) will no longer be in rebellion against God. Yet it is the “reconciliation” of a defeated enemy. It is a picture of a Roman conqueror leading a parade in which the leaders of his enemies are dragged along in chains (which is what making a “public spectacle” of an enemy meant in those days).

All of this teaching fits with Scripture as a whole. God has appointed Christ the head of all things. There are two ways to relate to this king. One can accept the gospel and submit to him now, receiving his forgiveness for past rebellion and entering a state not simply of reconciliation, but exaltation alongside Christ. This exaltation is not apparent in this age, but it will be fully revealed in the coming age. The other way to relate to this king is to continue in one’s rebellion and so refuse to accept the gospel. In that case the person will be forced to submit to Christ when his rule is fully revealed, but this submission will be a prelude to receiving the punishment of a conquered enemy.

As for fallen angels, demons, Satan and other spiritual powers presently in rebellion against God, no hope is held out for them. Whatever they believe leads only to their

“shuddering” (Jas 2:19). According to Jude and 2 Peter, some of them are already in chains. According to Revelation, their end is the lake of fire.

It is clear, then, that Paul is not teaching universalism and that in this he agrees with the rest of the New Testament. He is certain that Christ will rule over the whole world and all beings in it, human or spiritual. He is certain that in Christ God has made possible the reconciliation of humanity to himself. He is just as certain that only those who by faith commit themselves to Christ will participate in this reconciliation in ways other than as conquered foes. The deciding question for Paul is how each person he comes across will relate to this reconciliation offered in Christ. The choice is theirs.

1:24 Lacking in Christ’s Afflictions?

The phrases “what is still lacking” and “Christ’s afflictions” from Colossians 1:24

confront us with several difficulties. On the surface they seem to imply that there is some sort of deficiency in Christ’s sufferings, that the effectiveness of our Lord’s suffering is somehow limited and that its redemptive purpose must be supplemented or completed by Paul’s suffering. In addition to this central problem, there is the question

of how Paul’s suffering can be “for the sake of” the church, especially since the church at Colossae was not established by Paul, nor had he visited it (Col 1:3–8).

In light of everything else which Paul affirms about the redemptive significance of Christ’s life, death and resurrection, it is virtually impossible to attribute to him the idea that this redemptive work is in some way incomplete. Even within the immediate context, Paul clearly articulates the finality of God’s saving action in Christ. In the cross, Christ triumphed over all those powers of sin and bondage and death which separate us from God and his purposes (Col 2:13–15). As a result of the proclamation of the gospel, Christians are those who have been rescued from the dominion of darkness and brought into the kingdom of God’s Son (Col 1:13), through whom redemption and forgiveness of sins has been bestowed (Col 1:14). Though once alienated from God, they have been reconciled to God by Christ’s death (Col 1:22).

This sense of the finality, absolute completeness and all-sufficiency of Christ’s vicarious suffering is confirmed both by other key texts from Paul’s hand and by the terms which he normally uses when he speaks of Christ’s atoning work. Among the many passages which could be cited is Romans 5:1, 10, where justification and reconciliation, as results of Christ’s death, are described as accomplished facts (see also Gal 4:1–7; 1 Cor 1:21–30; Eph 1:7, 13–14). In addition to this larger evidence from his epistles, Paul’s normal way of speaking about Christ’s redemptive work is in terms of his death, his blood, his cross or a combination of these terms (see Rom 5:8–

9; Col 1:20). The expression “Christ’s afflictions” is nowhere else attested as a reference to his saving work.

What then can be the meaning of this enigmatic expression? In what sense are “Christ’s afflictions” incomplete? How do Paul’s sufferings “fill up” that incompleteness?

Several interpretations have been proposed.1 [1 Extensive discussions of various interpretations can be found in commentaries on this epistle. A good example is Peter T. O’Brien, Colossians, Philemon, Word Biblical Commentary 44 (Waco, Tex.: Word, 1987), pp. 77–78.] One holds that the word “afflictions” is a reference to Paul’s sufferings and that the genitive “of Christ” is to be taken in an objective sense, that is, meaning “for the sake of Christ.” The sentence would then read: “I rejoice in what was suffered for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in [my] afflictions for the sake of Christ.” This idea that Paul saw his own sufferings as being endured for the sake of Christ is certainly present in his experience (see Acts 9:16; 2 Cor 4:10–11).

The attractiveness of this interpretation is hindered by the fact that the term “of the afflictions” goes most naturally with “of Christ” in the grammatical construction, and thus means “the afflictions of Christ.” The proposed interpretation also does not adequately explain how what is yet to be filled up in Paul’s afflictions is for the benefit of the church.

An alternative to the above way of dealing with the problem is to understand the genitive, “of Christ,” as a reference to the nature of Christ’s suffering. Paul’s sufferings are “like those of Christ.” But how the model of Christ’s sufferings, now experienced by Paul, is deficient and is to be “filled up” is not answered by this explanation.

A more satisfactory understanding of this passage has been suggested by recent studies which seek to take seriously the background of Paul’s terminology in the Old Testament and in the apocalyptic literature2 [2 From approximately 200 b.c. to a.d. 100 there appeared an extensive religious literature which, like the canonical Daniel, sought to give hope to an oppressed, persecuted and suffering people.

Various concepts of this literature, which revealed ( apokalyptoµ÷) the purposes of God, were very much a part of Jesus’

understanding of his person and mission, as well as Paul’s interpretation of Christ’s work and its significance for Christian living.

O’Brien, Colossians, Philemon, pp. 78–81, gives a detailed analysis of this literature’s concepts relating to this passage.] of

intertestamental Judaism. Within that background, there are several related concepts which parallel those in Colossians: (1) Israel’s experience of affliction throughout its history—particularly Egyptian slavery, Babylonian exile and subsequent oppression under the Syrians and Romans—is understood as part and parcel of God’s redemptive purposes. Within this larger frame, the sufferings of God’s righteous ones, God’s special servants (Ps 34:19; 37:39; 50:15), were often taken as representative and vicarious (for example, Is 53). (2) In the apocalyptic literature, beginning with Daniel 12:1, the time prior to the culmination of God’s redemptive work and the inauguration of the reign of God in the messianic age was depicted as a period of great affliction.

These afflictions were known as “the woes of the Messiah,” not referring to sufferings to be endured by the Messiah, but to afflictions out of which the messianic age would be born. (3) Finally the apocalyptic seers announced that this present age of suffering was limited, that the “age to come” would soon dawn and that God had determined a definite measure for the afflictions that had to be experienced.3 [3 As examples of this element in Jewish apocalyptic writings, see 1 Enoch 47:1–4, Baruch 30:2 and 4 Ezra 4:36–37 in R. H. Charles, ed., The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament, vol. 2 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976–77).]

These elements of Paul’s Jewish background help us to understand this hard saying.

Paul was certainly convinced that the final days had dawned (1 Cor 7:29) and that the present time was one of difficulty and crisis (1 Cor 7:26). Christians are those “upon whom the end of the ages has come” (1 Cor 10:11 RSV [RSV Revised Standard Version] ) and who are therefore participants with Christ (the Messiah) in his sufferings as a prelude to sharing in the glory of his reign (Rom 8:17–18). Within this larger view, the difficult concepts of the passage can be understood.

The “afflictions of Christ” may be a reference to the “woes of the Messiah”; namely, the sufferings experienced by God’s people in the last days. Paul’s own sufferings, experienced in his missionary work (see 2 Cor 1:3–6), would then be seen as a part of this suffering of Christ’s followers. The phrase “fill up what is still lacking” may be in direct correspondence to the apocalyptic notion that a definite limit has been set by God to the sufferings to be endured. Paul could be expressing the conviction that his sufferings, alongside the sufferings of God’s people generally (see 2 Cor 1:6), contribute to the total measure of afflictions determined by God. Thus his sufferings are “for the sake of the church,” since they hasten the day when the church’s present affliction will be replaced by glory.

Though understanding the text within the larger apocalyptic view of “the afflictions of the Messiah” solves the various difficulties identified at the outset of this chapter, a more direct explanation may suggest itself from within Paul’s own thought.

As shown above, there can be no question that Christ’s sufferings, climaxed in the cross, are all-sufficient. Peace, reconciliation, right standing with God are their results.

At the same time Paul is also convinced that this gospel must be proclaimed, received in faith and implemented in everyday life in order for God’s redemptive purposes to be achieved. Thus, within the immediate context of the passage, the good news of Christ’s death which the Colossian Christians heard (Col 1:22–23) is intended to bear fruit in their lives (Col 1:6) and to lead to a life pleasing to the Lord (Col 1:10) that is characterized by endurance and patience (Col 1:11), continuing faith (Col 1:23) and unity in love (Col 2:2). The ultimate purpose of Christ’s atoning death is to present holy and without blemish to God those who have received redemption (Col 1:14, 22).

Paul’s work as a servant of the gospel of Christ is part of God’s means to accomplish that purpose (Col 1:23).

Elsewhere Paul affirms that the good news of Christ’s saving death can only be heard and believed if it is proclaimed (Rom 10:14–17), and he knows himself to be a proclaimer of that good news (1 Cor 1:17–23), as well as one whose life is an imitation of Christ’s self-giving love on behalf of others (1 Cor 10:33–11:1; Eph 5:1–2). All of this does not mean that there is something lacking in Christ’s redemptive work, but rather that Paul’s servant ministry, which includes suffering, is an integral part of bringing redemption to all. Such a sense for Colossians 1:24 is supported by a very similar text, 2 Corinthians 1:5–6.

In 2 Corinthians 1:5–6 Paul affirms that Christ’s sufferings are extended in his own and that this suffering is “for the sake of” the Corinthian believers’ salvation. Paul’s suffering in the service of Christ and his gospel do not add anything to the perfection of Christ’s atonement. They are, however, one of God’s instruments to extend that atonement into the lives of others. Only in that sense can it be said that Paul’s sufferings fill up what is lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions.

2:18 The Worship of Angels?

In Colossians 2:18 Paul warns Christians against the worship of angels. What does this mean? Why would anyone worship angels?

Angels are spiritual beings who can be quite impressive. Not only do we have the witness of the Old Testament in which a number of people show reverence for the angel of the Lord, but even late in the New Testament period the prophet John is tempted to fall down and worship an angel, not just once, but twice (Rev 19:10; 22:8–

9). So we see that the writers of the New Testament themselves could feel the power of such a temptation.

We do not know the full context of what was going on in Colossae, for Paul never explains it. Whatever was happening there, the Colossians obviously already knew about it, and Paul does not know that his letter will be read centuries later by Christians who will have no knowledge of the Colossian situation. Yet while we do not know the full extent of the practices being urged on the Colossians, some of the elements are clear in this passage.

First, the people promoting angel worship had experienced visions. That is the point of the reference to “what he has seen” (the NSRV [NSRV New Revised Standard Verision] refers to this correctly as “visions”). Visionary experiences were well known in the early church and, indeed, throughout the history of Christianity. However, not every vision is for public consumption. Paul notes in 2 Corinthians 12:4 that what he had seen in heaven he was not permitted to report. John in Revelation is permitted to report much, but not all, of what he saw and heard. A person without maturity or who fell prey to temptation might easily report on a vision that was not supposed to be told (assuming that the vision was from God in the first place).

Second, the person or persons engaging in this activity is puffing himself up. This indicates that the person considered himself to be someone special because of the revelation he had received. This is in fact a significant temptation. He had heard information that others must have. It is clear to all that he is the person who has been chosen to mediate this revelation to the community. If this process is successful, such a

person receives special status, this status hooks him, and he becomes proud.

Third, the focus of the vision is on two things. On the one hand, it is on some type of false humility. That could be the particular practice of fasting or devotion that the recipient of the vision was engaging in when the vision came. It could be some practice he believed that the angelic messenger revealed to him. Whatever it is, it is a practice through which a person humbles himself or herself. It is a rule or law through which a person can “get more holy,” more perfect (Col 2:20–23). Such a position ignores the fact in Christ Christians have received all the status and holiness they will ever receive.

One does not earn a higher status with God; it has all come in Christ (Col 2:9–10).

On the other hand, the vision (or the report that the people gave of it) focused on angels. “If you get to know these angels as we do, then you will get inside information too.” In some systems of Jewish and Christian thought the angels were named. In others they were ranked, and the goal was to get to know the more highly ranked angels. Or it may be that these people in Colossae only thought that special honor should be paid to a particular revealing angel. All of this does one thing: it takes the focus off Christ. Paul points out that “he [the person teaching on angels] has lost connection with the Head” (Col 2:19). If one knows Christ, one does not need to know the angels, their ranks or their names. They are all servants of the One the Christian already knows. The Bible does incidentally reveal the names of a few angels, but it always keeps its focus on Christ or God. If the names of the angels or even their presence were removed, but the revelation were retained, nothing of great significance would be lost. To focus on the angels is to detract from Christ and thus to lose a grip on the “Head.”

That is probably why John reports his two attempts to worship angels in Revelation.

Perhaps some reader would be tempted to give honor to the various angels who mediated such a great revelation. John is crystal clear: don’t even think of it. If honor is given to Christ and God, the angels will be quite pleased, for then they have done their job as servants.

Religious experience is great. God grants it because it is good for us. Yet it is also dangerous. True experiences can be distorted. The temptation is always there to focus on our experience or to use our experience as a lever to gain personal status or power.

This does not invalidate the experience (while there are demonic visionary experiences, Paul gives no hint here that these visions were not true visions from God), but it does distort it. Instead of leading the person to a greater devotion to Christ (that type of devotion that faces martyrdom fearlessly), such a use of visionary experiences turns the person from his or her focus on Christ, and can shift a whole group as well. The person becomes the “mediator” between Christians and some angel or angels, using rites about which God does not care a snap, however pious they may seem.

In Revelation there is a role for angels. They stand along with the redeemed before the throne of God and of the Lamb. That is the image to keep in mind: redeemed human beings and angels stand side by side looking at one and the same focus, God. Once this is grasped, both angels and visionary experiences will be kept in their proper perspective.

3:22–25 Did Paul Approve of Slavery?

See comment on ephesians 6:5–8.

4:6 Seasoned with Salt?

See comment on mark 9:50.

1 Thessalonians

2:14–15 Anti-Semitism?

Throughout the history of Jewish-Christian relations, 1 Thessalonians 2:14–15 and several other passages in the New Testament, like John 8:44, have been used all too frequently as a justification for inappropriate attitudes and actions toward Jewish people. Those actions and attitudes are called anti-Semitic. A dictionary definition of anti-Semitism includes such terms as “prejudice against Jews; dislike or fear of Jews; discrimination against or persecution of Jews.”1 [1 Webster’s New World Dictionary (New York: The World Publishing Co., 1967).] Such anti-Semitism on the part of Christians has led to the charge that the New Testament, or at least certain writers of New Testament Gospels or Epistles, is anti-Semitic. Can the use of 1 Thessalonians 2:14–15 (and others) for anti-Semitic attitudes and actions, or the charge that these texts are in themselves anti-Semitic, be justified?

First, it should be noted that the statements in question come from persons who were themselves Semites. They were not uttered by Gentiles hostile to Jews or to Jewish customs or beliefs. Their Jewishness and their commitment to the sacred writings which give to Judaism its uniqueness and identity are affirmed. Thus Jesus points to the Jewish Scriptures as bearing witness to him (Jn 5:39); and throughout John’s Gospel, Jesus’ identity as Messiah, as the royal Son of God, is prominent. In the same vein, Paul repeatedly underlines his Jewishness, his belonging to the people who trace their ancestry to Abraham (Rom 11:1; Gal 1:13–14; Phil 3:4–6).

Not only do we have an affirmation of Jewish identity, but that identity is expressed in powerfully positive ways. Throughout the Gospel record, Jesus’ love and compassion for his own people is amply demonstrated. A particularly tender expression of it is found in Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem: “How often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings” (Lk 13:34). Paul parallels this deep yearning for the wholeness and salvation of his own people when he expresses his deep sorrow over Israel’s rejection of Christ and his willingness even to be cursed for their sake (Rom 9:2–3). In addition, Paul sees the rejection of the Messiah by his own people as but a temporary reality. He knows that God has not rejected his own people (Rom 11:1) and envisions a time when they will be grafted back into God’s olive tree (Rom 11:17–24).

Paul’s strong words in this text are elicited by a situation in Thessalonica in which Christians (probably Gentile Christians) are suffering at the hands of their own countrymen (1 Thess 2:14). The new faith, based on the gospel of Jesus Christ, is being opposed in Thessalonica, just as it was being opposed in the Judean churches by their countrymen, namely, their fellow Jews (1 Thess 2:14). To this point in the text, Paul has not singled out any national group. The gospel is opposed by both Greeks and

Jews, and those committed to it are liable to persecution. It is the following verse (1

Thess 2:15) which singles out “the Jews” for special denunciation: “They displease God and are hostile to all men.”

This statement has the same anti-Semitic flavor as the rather slanderous remarks made against Jews in the ancient world. Tacitus says that they nurtured a hatred against all non-Jews that one would normally reserve only for one’s enemies; and the Egyptian Apion, a contemporary of Paul, is quoted by the Jewish historian Josephus as saying that the Jews swear by their Creator to show no good will toward the Gentiles.2 [2 Cited by F. F. Bruce, 1 & 2 Thessalonians, Word Biblical Commentary 45 (Waco, Tex.: Word, 1987), p. 47.]

Though in external form Paul’s statement is similar to these, the specific context of Paul’s words should caution us against viewing them as an indiscriminate anti-Jewish polemic and using them as grounds for collective prejudice and discrimination. For just as the Gospel of John uses the term “the Jews” to designate the Pharisaic-Sadducean leadership that opposed Jesus, so Paul has in mind those Jews who opposed his mission (1 Thess 2:16). Thus we see that Paul’s denunciation of “the Jews” takes place with a specific historical context, and it should in no way be generalized. Only when such statements are used indiscriminately in the service of generalized prejudice—as they often have been in the past—can they be called anti-Semitic.

2 Thessalonians

2:3 Who Is the Man of Lawlessness?

Paul does not tell us who “the man of lawlessness” is, but he apparently expects his readers in the church at Thessalonica to recognize him.

We must remember that Paul’s letters are “occasional” documents, sometimes written in response to issues or questions brought to Paul by his churches. They are thus fragments of a conversation. And since we are not privy to that larger conversation, we do not have the same body of information at our disposal which helped the Thessalonian Christians to “decode” Paul’s terms. To them Paul could write: “When I was with you I used to tell you these things” (2 Thess 2:5). That was enough to refresh their memory. For us, the meaning of Paul’s terms must be discerned, if possible, by giving attention to (1) the issue he addresses and (2) the beliefs of both Judaism and early Christianity behind that issue.

Both of Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians are in response to questions about the return of Christ. In the first few decades the faith of these earliest Christians was energized by the lively hope and expectation of the imminent return of the Lord. The new era, announced by Israel’s prophets and inspired seers, had dawned in Jesus’ life and ministry (1 Cor 10:11). His resurrection was a sign that the power of death was defeated (Acts 2:24), and that these “last days” (Acts 2:17), inaugurated by his life, death and resurrection, would soon come to their culmination (1 Cor 7:29) in the glorious Second Coming of Christ (Acts 3:20). Paul shared with others the belief that this culmination might happen within their lifetime (1 Thess 4:15).

In light of these convictions, certain experiences and events raised troubling questions for the Christians in Thessalonica. From what Paul says in 1 Thessalonians 4:13–14, we can assume that members of their fellowship had died. Would they be excluded

from the glorious event of Christ’s Second Advent? Paul’s answer to that concern is that at Christ’s coming those who belong to him, even though they have died (“the dead in Christ”), will be raised from the dead and gathered in one fellowship with those who are still living and will meet the returning, exalted Lord (1 Thess 4:16–17).

In the second letter we hear about fears stirred up among believers by some voices within the church who claimed that the “day of the Lord” had already come (2 Thess 2:2). Such a claim was unsettling and alarming, for it implied that they had been excluded from the event of Christ’s return and “shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the majesty of his power” (2 Thess 1:9). Paul calls that claim “deceitful” (2

Thess 2:3), asserting that certain events which precede Christ’s coming have yet to occur.

In describing these events (2 Thess 2:3–10) Paul first mentions “the man of lawlessness.” He is apparently the key figure in a general rebellion (2 Thess 2:3) who exalts himself above the so-called gods of heathen worship and “sets himself up in God’s temple, proclaiming himself to be God” (2 Thess 2:4). His coming “will be in accordance with the work of Satan” and accompanied by “all kinds of counterfeit miracles, signs and wonders” (2 Thess 2:9), as well as “every sort of evil” (2 Thess 2:10). He is “doomed to destruction” (2 Thess 2:3) at the hands of the Lord Jesus (2

Thess 2:8).

This depiction of “the lawless one” within the context of a rebellion against God has affinities with related concepts in Judaism and early Christianity. The “lawless one” is anticipated in the vision of Daniel 11, where a future ruler is said to exalt himself above all gods (Dan 11:36–37) and to desecrate the temple (Dan 11:31). Jewish Christians would also have remembered that the celebrated Maccabean revolt against the Syrian overlords in 167–164 b.c. was provoked by the Syrian monarch Antiochus IV, who claimed that he was “God manifest” and defiled the temple. Other adversaries of Israel and its God had earlier been depicted as exalting themselves and seeking divine status (see Ezek 28:2 and Is 14:13–14).

About a decade before Paul wrote to Thessalonica, the emperor Caligula had attempted to erect a statue of himself in the Jerusalem temple. His claim to divine honor, underscored by this attempt, showed the absolute rejection of God concentrated in an individual and provided a foreshadowing of what could be expected from “the man of lawlessness” in the future.

The more immediate parallel to this figure in early Christian thought is that of the antichrist in John’s epistles, a figure associated with the culmination of history (“the last hour”), who denies both God and Christ (1 Jn 2:18–22). Like the lawless one in Paul’s letter, the antichrist is a deceiver (2 John 7). And just as “lawlessness” is already at work prior to the historical revealing of “the man of lawlessness,” so the “spirit of antichrist” is already at work prior to the personal, incarnate form of that spirit (1 Jn 4:3).

Paul’s word that the coming of the lawless one “will be in accordance with the work of Satan” (2 Thess 2:9) is paralleled by an assertion in the intertestamental apocalyptic work The Martyrdom of Isaiah. In this work, Beliar, the “ruler of this world,” is called

“the angel of lawlessness” (2 Thess 2:4).

In light of this religious and historical background, Paul’s words about the appearing

of “the man of lawlessness” prior to the Second Advent of Christ express the belief that demonic opposition to God, already present in the world, though in a restrained way, will ultimately reach a peak and become incarnated in a historical person who will lead a massive anti-Christ movement.

For Paul and his Thessalonian disciples, the appearing of this figure lay in the future.

For Christians in subsequent decades who endured persecution at the hands of Rome and its emperors, the spirit of antichrist, if not the antichrist himself, was seen as personified in the persecuting Caesars. Frequently, throughout subsequent church history, both secular and religious leaders have been identified as this “man of lawlessness,” or “antichrist.”1 [1 See the concise study of the figure of the antichrist in the New Testament and subsequent Christian history by F. F. Bruce, 1 & 2 Thessalonians, Word Biblical Commentary 45 (Waco, Tex.: Word, 1982), pp.

179–88.]

These attempts to discover the lawless one along the stream of history have clearly not been successful, revealing that such undertakings are likely presumptuous and futile.

When he is revealed, believers will recognize this final incarnation of evil. In the meantime, they are called to be present in the world in such a way that the spirit of lawlessness is resisted and the strongholds of evil’s dominion challenged.

2:7 Who Is the One Who Holds Back Lawlessness?

The figure of “one who holds back lawlessness” appears in a text where Paul speaks about events and experiences which precede and accompany the Second Coming of Christ (2 Thess 2:1–12). One event is the appearance of “the man of lawlessness” (2

Thess 2:3), a final personal incarnation of evil who will be overthrown “with the breath” of the Lord Jesus at his coming (2 Thess 2:8). That event is still to come, contends Paul. Yet, the reality and power of lawlessness is already presents though not as obviously as it will be when it reaches its climax in “the man of lawlessness.”

The context of this passage shows that “lawlessness” is to be understood as opposition to God, as everything that violates the purposes of God for the creation.

“Lawlessness” is at work wherever human beings “refuse to love the truth” (2 Thess 2:10) and “delight in wickedness” (2 Thess 2:12).

This lawlessness is a present reality, but it is being restrained, held in check, by a figure whom Paul vaguely refers to as “one who now holds it back.” Who is this?

As with “the man of lawlessness,” so with this enigmatic “restrainer,” Paul assumes that the Thessalonian believers are aware of whom he speaks. “During my visit with you,” he reminds them, “I used to tell you these things” (2 Thess 2:5). But since we were not there, Paul’s veiled reference leaves us groping for that figure’s identity. In that task we are not alone. As early as the fifth century, the church father Augustine admitted that the meaning of this hard saying completely escaped him, and as eminent an exegete as F. F. Bruce is sure with Augustine that the best we can do is “guess at its meaning.”2 [2 F. F. Bruce, 1 & 2 Thessalonians, Word Biblical Commentary 45 (Waco, Tex.: Word, 1982), p. 175.] Such guessing, however, is not totally subjective, for we have enough of Paul’s view of things from his extensive writings to provide at least some clues.

In the history of this text’s interpretation, two interpretations of the “restrainer of lawlessness” have commended themselves as most probable. One view sees in this enigmatic figure a reference to the power of the Roman Empire, represented in the

person of the emperor. The state exists, Paul held, for the purpose of restraining wickedness (Rom 13:1–5). In the execution of this purpose the state is an instrument in the hands of God. When it violates that mandate, promoting evil and suppressing the good, it is demonic and the instrument of Satan (see Rev 13).

At the time of his missionary work in Macedonia, not long before he wrote his epistles to Thessalonica, Paul had experienced the protecting benefits of Roman citizenship (Acts 16:35–39). Later the progress of the gospel in Corinth was shielded from the power of lawlessness by a Roman magistrate (Acts 18:12–17), and Paul’s life was saved from certain death at the hands of an angry mob and for several more years of missionary work by Roman authorities in Palestine (Acts 22–23). These experiences of the apostle no doubt confirmed the conviction that, within the sovereign purposes of God, the Roman state, with its laws and extensive power, acted as a restraint against a full manifestation of the powers of lawlessness and evil. He knew that this restraining power would not last forever. Caesar would one day be “taken out of the way” (2

Thess 2:7). But that day was not yet (2 Thess 2:3, 8).

A second interpretation of the “restraining power” (2 Thess 2:6) and the “restrainer”

(2 Thess 2:7) takes its clues from another very important dimension of Paul’s teaching.

In the epistle to the Christians in Rome—written several years after the Thessalonian correspondence and from the same city, Corinth—Paul shares his belief that the proclamation of the gospel to the Gentiles was God’s plan and that its rejection by the Jews was temporary (Rom 11:13–32). That belief is in keeping with Jesus’ word that the gospel would be preached to all nations before the end would come (Mt 24:14; Mk 13:10). Within this understanding, the proclamation of the good news and its operation in the lives of believers would act as a restraint against evil in the world. Paul, as the apostle to the Gentiles, would be “the one who holds evil back” by his evangelistic ministry.

Both of these interpretations are possible within Paul’s overall thought. Two considerations make the latter one somewhat less probable. First, since Paul speaks quite clearly about his Gentile mission and purposes elsewhere, the somewhat oblique reference to the something and someone who holds back evil in the present is difficult to understand. On the other hand, his reticence to name this reality explicitly, if Paul has Rome in mind, makes sense. For to say openly that Rome would be “taken out of the way” could cause unnecessary difficulty. Second, it is clear that the one who removes the restraining reality is God. But would Paul speak about his missionary work and the proclamation of the gospel—which he saw as mandated by the Lord—as being taken out of the way by God? It is thus more probable that “the one who holds back lawlessness” is a reference to the state—in the first instance, Rome, but in a larger sense all civil authority which, when properly fulfilling its mandate, acts as a restraint against anarchy.

1–2 Timothy

1 Timothy

1:17 Invisible God?

See comment on exodus 33:18–23; john 1:18.

2:11–12 No Women Teachers?

The language here is seemingly straightforward and clear. But does Paul really mean what we think he means? And if he does mean it, is this an instruction he intended for universal application, regardless of historical context and circumstances?

This passage and 1 Timothy 2:13–15 are at the heart of the ongoing discussion of the place and role of women in church, home and society. Answers to the above questions are critical in that discussion.

This passage is a difficult one for yet another reason, namely, an emotional/experiential one. As a male, I am sure I cannot fully grasp the impact this apostolic word must have on women. But given that limitation, I can nonetheless understand something of the damage to one’s self-worth and sense of giftedness this restrictive word must evoke.

We are living at a point in history in which women and men are recognized as equally gifted in intellectual ability and communication skills. In such a climate, the apostolic prohibition seems particularly difficult to understand and accept. For what is it about gender which militates against the full expression of the Creator’s gifts of heart and mind and spirit?

This question has often been answered with the assertion that clearly defined roles for men and women are divinely ordained and that Paul’s restrictive instruction is evidence of such a universal norm. That response, however, is problematic. The account of the creation of male and female in Genesis 1–2—which we take as a foundational theological statement of the Creator’s design and intention—affirms male and female as equal and complementary. Both are bearers, together, of God’s image (Gen 1:26–

27). Both are given the mandate to responsible sovereignty over the created order (Gen 1:28). The creation of the woman is intended to rescue the man from his aloneness and to provide him with a complement (Gen 2:18).1 [1 The Hebrew word translated

“helper” (in Genesis 2:18 and 2:20), as a designation for the woman, is used only 16 more times in the Hebrew Bible. In those cases, it is always a designation of God as the One who saves, upholds and sustains his people (as in Ps 46:1). There is no sense in which this word connotes a position of inferiority or subordinate status. The word translated “suitable for” literally means “in front of,”

signifying one who stands “face to face” with another, qualitatively the same, his essential equal, and therefore his “correspondent.”]

Over against an ancient view that the gods played a trick on man by creating woman of inferior material, the creation account of Genesis affirms the woman to be of the same essence as man (“bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh,” Gen 2:23). Thus the view that God intended the woman for a restricted role in home, church and society cannot be grounded in the order of creation.

A restricted status for woman has been traditionally grounded in the account of the Fall (Gen 3) in both Jewish and Christian thought and practice. But it is clear from the context of Genesis 2–3 that the words of 3:16—“Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you”—do not announce God’s created design for a male hierarchy. Rather these words announce a cursed existence because of a broken relationship between the human creation and the Creator. A restricted place for woman, and male-over-female dominance, is thus not divine purpose but an expression of human sin.

For Paul, the purpose of Christ’s redemptive work was to set God’s creation free from the curse of Eden. Those “in Christ” were new creations (2 Cor 5:17), freed from the bondage of sin and its expression in human relationships (Rom 6:5–7). In the new

humanity created in Christ, the culturally and religiously ingrained view that some human beings, on the basis of gender or race or social status, were in some sense inferior could no longer be maintained (Gal 3:26–28). That was surely one of Paul’s central theological convictions.

In discussing the passage in 1 Corinthians 14:33–40, where Paul instructs women in the church to “remain silent,” we saw that this restriction was not universally applied either by Paul or by other early congregations. Women functioned in prominent leadership positions (Phoebe, Lydia, Euodia, Syntyche, Priscilla, Junia), designated as ministers (or deacons, Rom 16:1), fellow workers (Rom 16:3), colaborers in the gospel (Phil 4:2–9), apostles (or messengers, Rom 16:7). The Spirit of God empowered both men and women to be proclaimers of God’s redemptive work in Christ (Acts 2:14–18). Women’s participation in the edifying presentation of the gospel and vocal prayer in the congregation were a normal part of early church life (1

Cor 11).

In light of the above considerations, reasons for the particular restriction imposed on women in Timothy’s congregation must be discovered from within the text and the situation in the church which Paul addresses. If, as we have seen, a curtailed role for women was neither a part of the divine intention in creation nor a normative aspect of the redeemed order, then the curtailment of their speaking and teaching and leading—

in 1 Corinthians 14 and 1 Timothy 2—must be in response to critical, local situations.

Investigation of 1 Corinthians 14 revealed such a crisis setting in Corinth. A critical situation in the life and faith of Timothy’s congregation seems likewise the reason for Paul’s instruction here.2 [2 See Gordon D. Fee, 1 and 2 Timothy, Titus, Good News Commentary (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1984), who makes a persuasive case for 1 Timothy as an occasional letter addressing specific heretical teachings.]

Upon reading 1 Timothy, one becomes immediately aware that the integrity of the Christian faith is at stake. There are some in the church who teach false doctrines and are occupied with myths and other speculative ideas which militate against sound and sincere faith (1 Tim 1:3–4). Some have wandered into vain debates, seeking to be teachers without understanding and discernment (1 Tim 1:6–7). There is throughout a concern for maintaining and guarding the truth of the faith (1 Tim 1:19; 2:4–7; 3:14–

16; 4:1–3, 6–7, 16;6:1–5, 12).

We do not know the identity of the false teachers or the full content of their teaching.

From the instructions given, we can conclude that the false teaching led to a disregard for proper decorum and practices in the church (1 Tim 2:8–15) as well as to a rejection of the institution of marriage (1 Tim 4:3). In light of this last aspect of the heretical teaching, it is noteworthy that particular attention is directed to young widows (in 1

Tim 5:9–15), who are urged to marry, have children and manage their homes (1 Tim 5:14). When these normal, socially prescribed roles and functions are neglected or rejected, these women are prone to “gossiping” and being “busybodies, saying things they ought not to” (1 Tim 5:13).

On the basis of this data, at least two reconstructions of the situation in Timothy’s congregation at Ephesus are possible: (1) the women in the church at Ephesus were the primary advocates and promoters of the heretical teachings which were upsetting accepted patterns of congregational and home life; (2) the women in the church had been particularly influenced by the heretical teachers. Such a situation in the Ephesian church is addressed in 2 Timothy 3:6–9, where women, the special targets of those

“who oppose the truth” (2 Tim 3:8), become “unable to acknowledge the truth” (2

Tim 3:7).

In either case, Paul’s restrictive word in 1 Timothy 2:11–12 must be understood within a context where false teaching is at issue. The general prohibition against all those who

“teach false doctrines” (1 Tim 1:3) is now focused specifically on the women who have fallen prey to such false teaching or who are involved in its promulgation.

The admonition of 1 Timothy 2:11—“learn in quietness and full submission”—is thus directed at the women who, on the basis of the heretical teaching, have become loud voices, strident advocates of ideas that are upsetting the ordered contexts of congregational and home life. The “submission” enjoined on them is most likely a submission to the elders in the church, who are guardians of the truth and ordered worship. The prohibition against their teaching is occasioned by their involvement in false teachings. Finally, the prohibition against “authority over a man” (1 Tim 2:12) must be understood within the context of their rejection of the authority of others, probably the male leaders in Ephesus whose orthodox, authoritative teaching is being undermined by their heretical views. The unusual Greek word used carries primarily the negative sense of “grasping for” or “usurping authority.” Thus, the restriction of women’s place and participation in the life and ministry of the church at Ephesus is most probably “directed against women involved in false teaching who have abused proper exercise of authority in the church (not denied by Paul elsewhere to women) by usurpation and domination of the male leaders and teachers in the church at Ephesus.”3

[3 David M. Scholer, “1 Timothy 2:9–15 and the Place of Women in the Church’s Ministry,” in Alvera Mickelsen, ed., Women, Authority & the Bible (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1986), p. 205. This essay, and several others in this volume, present an excellent study of the exegetical, historical-cultural and linguistic issues in this hard saying and related biblical texts.] Paul goes on to ground this instruction in reflections on selected passages from Genesis.

See also comment on genesis 2:18; 3:16; 1 corinthians 11:3; 11:7; 14:33–34.

2:13–15 Salvation Through Childbirth?

When the writer of 2 Peter claims that there are some passages in Paul’s writings which “are hard to understand” (2 Pet 3:16), it is easy to imagine that he had 1

Timothy 2:13–15 in mind. The passage has been more intensely debated and analyzed than almost any other single text in the Bible.4 [4 For further information on the literature dealing with 1

Timothy 2:11–15 and related biblical texts, see Alvera Mickelsen, ed., Women, Authority & the Bible (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1986).] Rather than exploring all the suggestions and possibilities, I will seek to focus on the central issues and attempt to understand the main point of the passage within the situation Paul is addressing.

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