The last enemy to be destroyed is death (1 Cor 15; Narrative Lectionary for Easter 7)

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians canvasses a wide range of matters. First, he spends time addressing the serious divisions emerging within the Corinthian community. Paul declares that this matter “has been reported to me by Chloe’s people” (1:11); it is thought that this must have been a verbal report passed on to Paul when he met with a group from Corinth, perhaps slaves, sent by Chloe (about whom nothing else is revealed).

A second matter is introduced by a similar phrase, “it is actually reported…” (5:1), although the informant is not named. Some scholars think that the similarity of wording suggests that this news may also have been conveyed by “Chloe’s people”. A little later on, another matter is introduced by Paul with the phrase, “now concerning the matters about which you wrote” (7:1). Clearly, there had been written correspondence with Paul as well as the verbal report already indicated.

Towards the end of the letter, Paul refers to “the coming of Stephanas and Fortunatus and Achaichus” (16:17). This might suggest that they visited Paul; perhaps they bore a letter from the community (or a section of it), asking for Paul’s opinions about these matters? The fact that their names are Roman names reflecting an educated status, would lend support to this hypothesis.

Regardless of who actually brought this news, Paul is willing to deal with the matters raised, introducing them in turn by the shorthand formula, “now concerning”. Such matters include “food sacrificed to idols” (8:1), “spiritual matters” (12:1), “the collection for the saints” (16:1), and “our brother Apollos” (16:12).

The final theological issue which Paul addresses in his first letter to the Corinthians concerns the resurrection of believers. A rather stronger formula is used to introduce a major theological issue at 15:1: “now I would remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you…”.

Paul writes at length about this matter, which many scholars regard as the fundamental problem in the Corinthian community of faith, underlying other issues already explored. From comments later in this chapter (15:12, 15:29, and possibly 15:35), it is clear that divergent views about resurrection were held within the community of faith in Corinth. Paul’s response deals with each of them in a theological and rhetorical fashion.

Paul begins dealing with the issue with a series of affirmations concerning the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. There is an apologetic tone at the start, as Paul insistently underlines the validity and authority of what he says (15:1–3a). The “good news” which “I proclaimed” is described in technical terms indicating the passing-on of pre-existing tradition: “I received”, “I handed on”, “you received”.

Associated with this is an insistence that the Corinthians “stand” in this news, and must “hold firmly” to it, as the basis for “being saved”.

The foundational tradition which he then reports (15:3b–7) is based on an early four-part affirmation of faith: “Christ died…he was buried…he was raised…he appeared”.

The first and third elements are elaborated with the formulaic “in accordance with the scriptures”. The fourth element, the appearances of the risen Jesus, is extended beyond the list received by Paul (to Cephas, the twelve, more than 500, James, all the apostles; 15:5–7) to include Paul himself (“as to one untimely born”, 15:8), leading on to an assertion of Paul’s apostolic credentials and divinely-assisted activities (15:9–11).

The beginning of this lengthy discussion of resurrection reaches back to the “theology of the cross” at the start of the letter by references to the crucifixion and death of Jesus; but Paul does not develop this connection. Instead, he moves straight to the first pastoral situation in Corinth regarding the resurrection (15:12–19).

The “resurrection of the dead” (the Greek word is plural, reflecting a raising of many believers) was a Jewish belief that had developed in preceding centuries; not all Jews accepted it (see Acts 23:6–8) and amongst some Gentiles there was scepticism about the idea (see Acts 17:32).

The community in Corinth contained sceptics (15:12); Paul’s counter-argument attempts to refute their opinion in a series of logic-based steps, beginning with a questioning of the reality of the resurrection of the one person, Jesus (15:13–16) and leading to the conclusion that “your faith is futile” (15:17). He cannot countenance this, so launches into an exposition of what he sees as eschatological realities (15:20–28), explaining the places allocated, at the end, to humans, Jesus, and God.

The rhetorical structure of the first part of this argument (15:21–22) returns to the pattern of juxtaposing two different entities, which Paul has used in earlier sections of the letter. We can see this pattern as follows: for since death came through a human being / the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam / so all will be made alive in Christ. An expanded version of this argument takes place in Rom 5:12–21.

Paul then continues by explaining that Christ is “the first fruits”, who has “all things put in subjection under his feet” (15:23–27). But Christ himself is subjected to God; finally, God is “all in all” (15:28). Paul has not proven the resurrection as such, but has explained how it fits into his view of the end days.

A second pastoral situation is noted (15:29) but abruptly dismissed with two rhetorical questions; the clear inference is that there is no validity at all in the viewpoint held by those who practice “baptism on behalf of the dead”. Then follows a poetic reflection (15:30–34) in which Paul draws on Hebrew scripture (Isaiah 22:13) and Greek poetry (Menander, Thais) to denounce those who “have no knowledge of God” (15:34).

A third pastoral situation might possibly be indicated at 15:35, although the form employed (a rhetorical question attributed to an indefinite person) was commonly used by a skilled rhetorician to raise an objection which he knew could be raised, allowing it to be dealt with in advance (the same technique is found in Rom 2–6 and 9–11).

The question provides an opportunity for further eschatological teachings about the nature of the resurrection body (15:35–49) and a further display of Paul’s rhetorical prowess.

Once again, the rhetorical structure of the argument provides contrast by juxtaposition, advanced in a sequence of logical steps:

What is sown is perishable / what is raised is imperishable.

It is sown in dishonour / it is raised in glory.

It is sown in weakness / it is raised in power.

It is sown a physical body/ it is raised a spiritual body.

If there is a physical body / there is also a spiritual body.

Thus it is written, “The first man, Adam, became a living being”/ the last Adam became a life-giving spirit.

But it is not the spiritual that is first / but the physical, and then the spiritual.

The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; / the second man is from heaven.

As was the man of dust, so are those who are of the dust; / and as is the man of heaven, so are those who are of heaven.

Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, / we will also bear the image of the man of heaven.

The symmetry is certainly poetically and rhetorically satisfying.

Some concluding reflections (15:50–58) allow for a final glimpse into the eschatological drama that awaits. The argument now is no longer logic-based, as Paul moves through a sequence of vividly-imagined images in a dramatic rhetorical style. The whole long discussion of this matter ends with the concise ethical exhortation, “be steadfast, immovable” (15:58).

The last word after this word of encouragement is a word of hope-filled assurance to the Corinthians, whom he has criticised so mercilessly at many places throughout the letter: “you know that in the Lord your labor is not in vain” (15:58).

The greatest of these is love (1 Cor 13; Narrative Lectionary for Easter 6)

For the passage to be read and heard this coming Sunday, the Narrative Lectionary has proposed what is perhaps the most well-known part of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians: the chapter on love (1 Cor 13:1–13). Paul waxes lyrical about love, telling the Corinthians that love “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things; love never ends” (13:7–8), and builds to a wonderful rhetorical climax in which he affirms that “faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love” (13:13).

As well as being a rhetorical tour de force, and the most beloved part of this letter of Paul, this chapter is also, in my view, the most misunderstood and misused chapter of this letter—as I will attempt to explain below.

It is clear from Paul’s description that, when the community in Corinth gathered for worship, there was a high degree of disorder manifested. Paul devotes four chapters to this issue (11:1—14:40). Throughout this section of the letter, Paul writes with a single focus in mind; he writes to bring order and decency to this situation (14:40).

He begins his consideration of the disorder evident in the community by asserting the importance of maintaining “the traditions just as I handed them on to you” (11:2), reminding them of words that “I received from the Lord” and duly “handed on to you” (11:23). He instructs the Corinthians to seek to speak to others in worship “for their upbuilding and encouragement and consolation” (14:3).

He advises them to exercise their spiritual gifts appropriately; to “strive to excel in them for building up the church” (14:12), to “not be children in your thinking … but in thinking be adults” (14:20). He advises them, “let all things be done for building up” (14:26), noting that “all things should be done decently and in order” (14:40), for “God is a God not of disorder but of peace” (14:33).

The hymn in chapter 13 is an integral part of that overarching purpose. As well as his reminder of “the traditions just as I handed them on to you” (11:1), Paul asserts that they must acknowledge that “what I am writing to you is a command of the Lord” (14:37). He happily draws from various authorities; he alludes to scriptural ideas (11:3, 7–9, 10; 14:4), directly cites Hebrew scripture (14:21, 25), refers to the words of Jesus (11:24–25), claims the precedent of nature (11:14) and church custom (11:16), and in a controversial passage, refers to what takes place “in all the churches of the saints” (14:33b–34).

Chapter 12 contains an adaptation of an image which was extensively used in political discussions about the city state (“the body is one and has many members”, 12:12) as well as what may be a reference to a developing baptismal liturgy within the early church (“we were all baptised into one body”, 12:13) and a very early creedal statement (“Jesus is Lord”, 12:3).

Throughout these chapters, those who are inclined to diverge from Paul’s commands are portrayed in negative terms: they are “contentious” (11:16), showing “contempt” (11:22), acting “in an unworthy manner” (11:27) and with “dissension” (12:25); their behaviour conveys dishonour (12:22–26) and shame (14:35).

The selfish behaviour of some at the common meal warrants their condemnation (11:32) and justifies the illness and death that has occurred within the community (11:30). The individualistic participation of others in communal worship builds up themselves, but not others (14:4, 17); they are not intelligible in speech (14:9), but are unproductive in their minds (14:14) and childish in their thinking (14:20), leaving themselves open to the risk, “will they not say that you are out of your mind? (14:23).

In the centre of this section stands the famous “hymn to love” (12:31–13:13), now often treated in isolation and over-romanticised. In context, the passage provides a sharp, pointed polemic against the Corinthian community. The qualities they possess are consistently inadequate when measured against love.

The speech of the Corinthians is like “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” (13:1), an allusion to the mayhem brought about by speaking in tongues in worship (1:5; 12:10, 28–30; 14:6–8). Whilst they readily express their “prophetic powers” in worship (11:4–5; 12:10, 28–30; 14:1, 4–5, 23–24, 29–32, 37, 39), for Paul, these abilities are nothing without love (13:2).

Likewise, they claim that they are able to understand mysteries (2:7; 4:1; 14:2, 23) and have knowledge (1:5; 8:1–3, 7, 10, 11; 12:8; 14:6) as well as faith (2:5; 12:9; 15:14, 17; 16:13); but Paul insists that all of these are nothing in isolation from love (13:2).

Elsewhere in his letter, Paul directly accuses the Corinthians that they are precisely what love is not. Love does not boast (13:4), but Paul regards the the Corinthians as being boastful (1:29; 3:21; 4:7; 5:6). Love is not arrogant (13:4), but in Paul’s eyes the Corinthians are arrogant or “puffed up” (translating the same Greek word in 4:6, 18–19; 5:2; 8:1).

Love does not rejoice in wrongdoing (13:6), but Paul berates the Corinthians for taking fellow-believers to court to seek redress for wrongs; indeed, “you yourselves wrong and defraud—and believers at that” (6:7–8). Love means that people do not insist on their own way (13:5), but Paul considers that the way that some behave in relation to meat offered to idols in the marketplace advantage; “do not seek your own advantage”, he advises them, “but that of the other” (10:24).

In like manner, when they gather to celebrate the supper of the Lord, “when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk” (11:21). Selfishness and acting without regard for the other characterises their common life.

Love “hopes all things” (13:7), but some in the community at Corinth are accused of failing to share in the hope of the resurrection (15:12–19). The assertion that “we know only in part” (13:9–10) is directed squarely against the Corinthian claim to have full knowledge (8:1, 10–12) whilst the image of the child, not yet adult (13:11), reflects Paul’s criticism of the Corinthians as infants, not yet ready for solid food (3:1–2; 14:20).

So the hymn alleged to be in praise of love is, more accurately, a polemical censure of the Corinthians’ shortcomings, in which every word used and every phrase shaped by Paul cuts to the heart of the inadequacies of the Corinthian community. Try preaching that at a wedding!!

Receiving and passing on a living tradition: died and buried, raised and appeared (1 Cor 15; Easter Sunday)

On Easter Sunday, we say: “Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!”, to celebrate that “God raised Jesus from the dead” (Gal 1:1; Rom 4:24; 10:9; Acts 2:32). Paul affirms this good news in this extract from his first letter to the saints in Corinth, which is the Epistle reading that the lectionary offers for Easter Sunday (1 Cor 15:1–11). Some verses in this passage have played a key role in the development of Christian tradition, which affirms in creeds and confessions a belief in “Jesus Christ … who was crucified, died, and was buried … who rose again from the dead on the third day”.

What is the nature of the confessional affirmation that Paul offers in this passage? The previous chapters of 1 Corinthians have alerted us to the disorganised ethos of the community in the cosmopolitan port city of Corinth. Those earlier chapters have indicated a number of problems that existed within the community of followers of Jesus. There was factionalism (chs.1–4), immorality (ch.5), resorting to civil lawsuits (ch.6), and dissension regarding marriage, celibacy, and sexuality (ch.7). There were differing attitudes towards consuming meat bought in the marketplace after it had been offered to idols (chs.8–10), and multiple issues that manifested in their gatherings for worship (chs.11–14).

Paul addresses each of these matters with the same intention, to bring about order in the midst of the chaos that he has been told about. His words in the midst of the lengthy discussion about marriage, celibacy, and sexuality state his purpose with clarity: “I say this for your own benefit, not to put any restraint upon you, but to promote good order and unhindered devotion to the Lord” (7:35).

The disorder and chaos evident in worship, in particular, led Paul, in the chapter immediately preceding this passage, to advise the Corinthians to seek to speak to others in worship “for their upbuilding and encouragement and consolation” (14:3). He advises them to exercise their spiritual gifts appropriately; to “strive to excel in them for building up the church” (14:12), to “not be children in your thinking … but in thinking be adults” (14:20). He advises them, “let all things be done for building up” (14:26), noting that “all things should be done decently and in order” (14:40), for “God is a God not of disorder but of peace” (14:33).

People speaking over the top of each other in worship, not attending to important words of prophecy and tongues, reflected the disordered chaos of the apparently quite libertine community. The infamous words ordering women to “keep silent” (14:33b—36), along with the adjacent commands to “keep silent” while one interprets tongues that are spoken (14:27–28) and “keep silent” to those seeking to offer a word of prophecy while others are still prophesying (14:29–31), are included in this letter precisely to address this chaotic disorder. And not for the first time in this letter, Paul invokes his higher authority to support his directions: “[you] must acknowledge that what I am writing to you is a command of the Lord” (14:37; see also 5:3–4; 7:40; 10:20–22; 11:27–28; 16:10; and cf. 7:25).

Immediately after this extensive discussion about worship, Paul turns to his foundational message about Jesus, in a four-part statement: Christ died—was buried—was raised—and then appeared to various people (15:3–5). He uses terms that denote the passing on of traditions: “I received … I handed on … which you received … in which you stand” (15:1); and he insists on the importance of what he passes on: “you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you” (15:2). These two verses provide a strong, insistent introduction to what follows in the ensuing verses.

We see this dynamic also in an earlier chapter, in the familiar words associated with the Last Supper: “I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you” (1 Cor 11:23), as well as in the commendation of the Corinthians as they “maintain the traditions just as I handed them on to you” (11:2).

The core tradition that Paul cites is the fourfold declaration that Jesus died, was buried, was raised, and appeared (vv.3–5). It may have already have been an existing formula; we know that Paul, in this letter and elsewhere, makes use of very short credal-like statements that it is likely had already been developed by others, some of which he cites in order to refute, such as: “is well for a man not to touch a woman” (7:1), “all of us possess knowledge” (8:1), “all things are lawful” (10:23), and “how can some of you say there is no resurrection of the dead?” (15:12).

There are other succinct sayings which Paul uses as the basis for further developments in his argument, such as “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified” (2:2), “knowledge puffs up, but love builds up” (8:1), “there is no God but one” (8:4), and “all things are lawful, but not all things build up” (10:24). The discussion of factions in chs.1–4 is built off “I belong to Paul … I belong to Apollos … [but] what then is Apollos? what is Paul?” (3:4–5), while Paul’s lengthy discussion of spiritual gifts (12:4—14:40) jumps off from the unspiritual “Jesus be cursed!” and the spirit-inspired response, “Jesus is Lord” (12:3).

Furthermore, Paul writes a number of longer credal-like statements, some of which seem shaped for liturgical usage: the words which became the “words of institution” in the church’s eucharistic practice (1 Cor 11:23–26), and others such as Rom 8:28; 2 Cor 4:14; Gal 1:3–5; Phil 2:6–11. The writers in the school of Paul who later wrote letters claiming to have his authority ( the “pastoral epistles”) followed this practice (see 1 Tim 2:5–6; 3:16; 2 Tim 2:11–13; Titus 2:11–14).

Two clauses in Paul’s tradition-based affirmation of 1 Cor 15:3–5 are buttressed by reference to scripture, another voice of authority alongside “the tradition”. What the specific scripture passages are, Paul does not state; this has left open the door for speculation by later interpreters.

Supporting arguments by reference to scripture is not unknown in Paul’s writings; as a Pharisee, he had attained a good awareness of Torah and its application to life (see Gal 1:14; Phil 3:5–6). He bases his magnum opus, Romans, on a scripture citation (Rom 1:17, citing Hab 2:4) and there is barely a chapter of this letter that does not contain scripture quotations and allusions in abundance.

Key moments in 1 Corinthians are likewise supported by verses from Hebrew Scripture (1 Cor 1:19, 31; 2:9, 16; 3:19–20; 14:21; 15:54–55), and the well-known “words of institution” themselves (11:23–26) reference the tradition which emerges in later decades in the Synoptic Gospels, recording the words of Jesus himself at the last supper (Mark 14:22–25; Matt 26:26–29; Luke 22:14–20).

By using the terminology of traditions being received and handed on, Paul is reining in the wayward Corinthians, recalling them to the fundamentals of their faith. So he sets out the dynamic of died—buried—raised—appeared (15:3–5) as the foundation for then discussing, in the remainder of the chapter, issues associated with the resurrection of Jesus (15:6–58).

Who saw the risen Jesus? First, Paul tells of an appearance to the early leaders, Cephas (Peter) (v.5) and James (v.7)—of which, neither appearance is reported in any Gospel. Then, Paul indicates that Jesus appeared to “the twelve” (v.5) and “all the apostles” (v.8)—apparently alluding to narratives found in the later texts of three Gospels Matt 28:16–20, Luke 24:33–48; John 20:19–23, 24–29; 21:1–14. (The appearances narrated in the shorter and longer endings of Mark, added after 16:8, are not relevant; these are later patristic additions based on the other three Gospels, designed to harmonise the ending of Mark with these others.) Acts 1:6–11 might also be relevant here.

An interesting question is, how did he distinguish between these two groups—“the twelve” on the one hand, and “all the apostles” on the other. Indeed, these terms appear to be inherited by Paul from earlier traditions. This is the only place in all Pauline letters which refer to “the twelve”; and besides, the Gospel narratives noted above do not have Jesus appearing to “the twelve”, as Judas was absent from all of them, and so was Thomas in John 20:19–23.

As far as the word “apostle” is concerned, in 16 of the 18 occurrences in the Pauline corpus (including those not authentic to Paul) Paul explicitly apply the term to himself. Paul acknowledges others as apostles: James (Gal 1:19), Peter (Gal 2:8), perhaps Barnabas (1 Cor 9:1, 5–6), an unspecified number of believers who were given gifts to be apostles (1 Cor 12:28–29; see also Eph 4:11), and most strikingly, Andronicus, a male, with Junia, a female (Rom 16:7). Are these the people that Paul has in mind at 1 Cor 15:8? Or is this simply a phrase inherited from the tradition, which Paul has repeated?

Next, Paul identifies an appearance to “more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time” (v.6), which again has no place in any Gospel account. Last, Jesus appears to Paul himself (v.8), which he briefly reports at 1 Cor 9:1 and Gal 1:1. Strikingly absent from his list is the empty tomb and the appearances to Mary in the garden (John 20:14), to the women as they left the tomb (Matt 28:9–10), to the two travellers to Emmaus (Luke 24:15), or to the seven fishing by the Sea of Tiberias (John 21:1–4). What a perplexing inconsistency between the various testimonies to these appearances!!

This is an early collection of “witnesses to the resurrection”; Paul wrote to the Corinthians in the mid 50s. But there is no mention of what was important to all four evangelists, writing in later decades: the women at the empty tomb and the role that women played in bearing testimony to the risen one. Is this accidental? or deliberate? Given what we have noted about 1 Corinthians as a whole—and especially what ch.14 reveals about the disorderly behaviour of Corinthian women—we might well wonder, is Paul shaping the received tradition to “fit the context” already at this early stage? It is a tantalising suggestion.

There is a wonderful quote that is pertinent to this issue, which is attributed to Gustav Mahler, the late 19th century Austro—Bohemian composer: “Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.” These words indicate that if tradition stands still, it will run out of momentum and fizzle out of energy. Tradition always needs to be reinvigorated and renewed, in the way that fire sizzles and snaps as it continually changes its shape and form.

And that’s a fine thought for us to have as we consider the resurrection of Jesus. As the Apostles Creed affirms, echoing 1 Cor 15:3–5, “we believe in Jesus Christ … who was crucified, died, and was buried … who rose again from the dead on the third day”. We need to renew and rekindle that tradition, to find fresh ways to understand and proclaim that mysterious happening, which sits at the heart of classic Christian confessions.

I’ve offered my own initial reflections on precisely that task in this blog:

To the only wise God, be glory forever! (Rom 16; Advent 4B)

For some reason, the Epistle reading that is set for this coming Sunday, the Fourth Sunday in Advent, is the last few verses of Paul’s long and complex letter to the Romans. This short passage is just one sentence in length; it offers a benedictory closure to this long and complex letter: “now to God who is able to strengthen you … to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever! Amen” (Rom 16:25–27).

It is a somewhat flowery benediction which is quite similar to the closing verses of the letter of Jude: “now to him who is able to keep you from falling … to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, power, and authority, before all time and now and forever; Amen” (Jude 24–25).

Some commentators observe that the wording of this benediction is somewhat alien to the theological argumentation that Paul sets forth in the body of the letter. “The revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed” and reference to “the eternal God” are the key terms in view. Perhaps this benediction was added after the letter itself was completed, they suggest, arguing that these words were likely written by another hand who did not like the way the series of greetings (Rom 16:21–23) ends quite abruptly.

In fact, the Roman closure reads like an extension of a typical Pauline blessing found in some other letters he wrote. “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ”, he begins his early letter to the Galatians, continuing “who gave himself for our sins to set us free from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, to whom be the glory forever and ever; Amen” (Gal 1:3–5).

“To our God and Father be glory forever and ever; Amen” he writes in a later letter, as he prepares to conclude his words to the Philippians (Phil 4:20). And still later, an unknown writer claiming the authority of Paul writes a slightly extended blessing in similar form, “Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever; Amen” (Eph 3:20-21).

From another perspective, these three verses look straightforward; they bring to a fine conclusion “the proclamation of Jesus Christ” that Paul has offered in his long letter to the Romans, especially noting that the Gospel has been “made known to all the Gentiles” and that this has been evident “through the prophetic writings”. Each of these phrases pick up key elements in the theological argument that Paul has developed in Romans.

However, although we will read them here, at the very end of the letter, in all current versions of our Bibles, these verses are missing from a number of important early manuscripts of this letter. Further, some other manuscripts place them after 14:23; still others after 15:33; and some even add a short blessing after this longer benediction. This reminds us that the finely-crafted Bibles that we have today are a long way from the ragged manuscripts that circulated in the early centuries of the church.

Still, there are gems in these words of benediction, which it would be a shame to miss. That the story of Jesus is “made known to all the Gentiles” is a significant statement. Paul himself had a firm commitment to bringing the good news to the Gentiles (1:5, 13; 3:29; 9:24; 11:11–13; 15:9–12, 15–21). He declares that “I am an apostle to the Gentiles” (Rom 11:13) who had been “entrusted with the gospel for the uncircumcised” (Gal 2:7–9; see also 1 Tim 2:7).

That the letter has aimed “to bring about the obedience of faith” is a second affirmation worth remembering. This affirmation links back with a very early statement by Paul, as he introduced himself to the believers in Rome, where he indicates that “we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name” (Rom 1:5).

There is a peculiar textual variation in the closing section of this benediction. Some manuscripts include the phrase “to whom”, but others omit it. Its inclusion seems to place a bump in what would be the usual conclusion to a benedictory sentence, which would read, “to the only wise God be the glory through Jesus Christ forever. Amen”. That flow of words brings the letter to a most fitting climax of praise.

Finally, the last hope expressed in this letter is that God might strengthen those who read it. This has been part of Paul’s intention in writing to the Romans, and in planning to visit them; as he declares in the opening phrases of the letter, “I am longing to see you so that I may share with you some spiritual gift to strengthen you” (1:11).

This has been Paul’s practice in relation to other communities. “May [the Lord] so strengthen your hearts in holiness”, he prays for the Thessalonians (1 Thess 3:13; see also 2 Thess 2:17). He assures the Corinthians that the Lord “will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor 1:8) and exhorts them, “stand firm in your faith, be courageous, be strong” (1 Cor 16:13).

Others writing later letters in the name of Paul echo this prayer: “may you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power” (Col 1:11), “be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power” (Eph 6:10), and “you then, my child, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus” (2 Tim 2:1).

Why is this closing benediction included as the Epistle reading for this fourth Sunday in Advent? Perhaps because “the mystery that was kept secret for long ages” is “now disclosed” by a “revelation” in the story of Jesus, whose birth we are soon to celebrate? Perhaps because it is in Jesus that Christians most clearly perceive “the glory of God” to be evident? I can’t be sure; but there it is, for us to hear and ponder, this coming Sunday.

Like a father with his children … gentle as a nurse tenderly caring for her children (1 Thess 2; Pentecost 22A and 23A)

“As you know, we dealt with each one of you like a father with his children, urging and encouraging you and pleading that you lead a life worthy of God, who calls you into his own kingdom and glory.” So the followers of Jesus in the community that had formed in Thessalonica in the early 50s of the first century would have heard, when a letter sent to them from Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy was read to them in their community gathering (1 Thess 2:11–12).

Ancient letters normally followed clear formulaic patterns (as,minded, modern letters do). They began by identifying the parties involved in a short opening address, followed by a prayer for their wellbeing. So in such letters, we often find something like “Publius to Demetrius, greetings; I pray you may be well”.

So it is no surprise that the letters we have in the New Testament reflect this pattern. Almost all of what we describe as “Paul’s letters” begin with a greeting from the writer to members of the church at the designated location. In one letter (Philemon), three individuals are named as the recipients (Philemon, Apphia and Archippus) as well as the whole church community. The three “pastoral letters” (1 Tim, 2 Tim, Titus) are addressed to an individual person.

It is often overlooked that seven of the letters specified co-writers along with Paul: Timothy (2 Cor, Phil, 1 Thess and Phlm; Col and 2 Thess), Sosthenes (1 Cor) and Silvanus (1 Thess and 2 Thess). Paul was the sole designated writer in only two “authentic” letters (Rom and Gal) and in four “debated” letters (Eph, 1 Tim, 2 Tim, Titus).

So “Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians” was actually “a letter from Paul and Sosthenes to the Corinthians” (see 1 Cor 1:1). And “Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians”, which appears at the moment in the lectionary sequence for Pentecost 21A to 25A), was actually “a letter from Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy, to the church of the Thessalonians” (see 1 Thess 1:1).

This coming Sunday, the lectionary offers us an excerpt from this letter, from the place after the greetings and opening prayer (1:1–10), which we heard last Sunday. This is where we would normally expect the body of the letter to begin (2:1), exploring the matters of substance in the community that the authors wanted to raise with the recipients. However, Paul and his co-writers turn their attention at this point away from the community in Thessalonica, to focus more specifically on the way that they had been operating whilst they had been with the Thessalonians (2:1–12).

There are two striking matters to note in this section. The writers of this letter lay claim to behaving “like a father with his children” as they relate to the Thessalonians. This is unusual—although in other letters bearing his name, Paul does claim to be father to Timothy (Phil 2:22) and to Onesimus (Phlm 10).

Whilst all letters written in the name of Paul refer to God as Father (Rom 1:7; Gal 1:1–5; 1 Cor 8:6; Phil 4:20; Eph 4:6; and in other places), claiming a paternal relationship with those who are being addressed in the letter is unusual. In the case of the Thessalonians, it would seem that this claim rests on the fact that Paul and his fellow-missionaries were the ones who brought them to faith in Jesus.

“Our message of the gospel came to you not in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction”, they declared (1 Thess 1:5), and so “we had courage in our God to declare to you the gospel of God in spite of great opposition” (2:2), and then “you became imitators of us and of the Lord” (1:6), as “you turned to God from idols, to serve a living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead—Jesus, who rescues us from the wrath that is coming” (1:9–10). This paternal glow at the response of these believers to the preaching of the three evangelists in Thessalonica is clear.

A second claim that is even more striking is the assertion that “we were gentle among you, like a nurse tenderly caring for her own children” (2:8). It’s a claim that is distinctive, in that the three male authors of this letter are using female imagery to describe their modus operandi whilst in Thessalonica.

Gentleness is not a quality often associated with evangelists or those called by God to proclaim “the word of the Lord” to the people, although one proverb does state that “a gentle tongue is a tree of life” (Prov 15:4) and the prophet Jeremiah notes that when his life was threatened by the people of Anathoth, “I was like a gentle lamb led to the slaughter” (Jer 11:19). Gentleness is seen as a sign of “the righteous man” in the Wisdom of Solomon 2:19.

The claim to be “gentle as a nurse” comes, as we have noted, in the context of describing, in some detail, the way in which those who proclaimed the good news in Thessalonica were operating while they had been with the Thessalonians (2:1–12).

As they write to the Thessalonians, the authors of this letter feel the need to defend themselves, pointing out that their motivation in proclaiming the gospel was not based on “deceit or impure motives or trickery” (2:3), nor did they speak “with words of flattery or with a pretext for greed” (2:5). Rather, they undertook their task with deep-seated care (2:8) and purity of motive (2:10).

The three writers invoke the divine no less than nine times in twelve verses, proclaiming that the methods used were “approved by God” and that the spoke only “to please God” (2:4). Their invocation of God serves to underline the truth of what they write, and what they have said and done, with the Thessalonians.

The language which Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy use in this part of the letter is reminiscent of discussions of rhetoricians and philosophers of the time, a number of whom were accused of having base motives, an interest in self-promotion and a desire for immediate financial rewards!

The three who were writing to the Thessalonians could well have been accused of functioning in such a self-serving way, especially if their modus operandi was seen to be very similar to those wandering preachers of philosophical messages—deceitful, self-serving, using flattery and trickery, seeking financial gain. The power of their words (1:5; 2:12) could have fuelled such a critical perspective of their activities.

In addition, the itinerant way of life adopted by Paul, and his various companions, could easily leave them open to such a criticism. Yet, how Paul and the others defend themselves is similar to the way that the better class of philosophers and rhetoricians of the day tried to defend themselves. We know about this through the writings of pagan philosophers who canvassed the different types of itinerant philosophers that were known at the time.

In particular, the writings of Dio Chrysostom are relevant and helpful in this regard. Dio was an orator of the second century, but the phenomena that he described had been in existence for decades before. We can assume, with a reasonable degree of confidence, that his words describe a phenomenon akin to what was happening in the first century.

In the 32nd discourse of Dio Chrysostom, delivered “to the people of Alexandria”, he talks about a range of people who wandered from village to village, spruiking their own moral teachings. (In what follows I am quoting from the translation of Dio’s Oration 32 by J.W. Cohoon and H. Lamar Crosby in the Loeb Classical Library.)

First, Dio refers to a class of rather undesirable people; itinerants “whose tenets, to be sure, comprise practically nothing spurious or ignoble, yet who must make a living”. He describes them as Cynics, noting that “posting themselves at street-corners, in alley-ways, and at temple-gates, [they] pass round the hat and play upon the credulity of lads and sailors and crowds of that sort, stringing together rough jokes and much tittle-tattle and that low badinage that smacks of the market-place”.

His assessment is that “they achieve no good at all, but rather the worst possible harm, for they accustom thoughtless people to deride philosophers in general, just as one might accustom lads to scorn their teachers, and, when they ought to knock the insolence out of their hearers, these Cynics merely increase it”.

Statue of an unknown Cynic philosopher
from the Capitoline Museums in Rome.

Dio then notes that such people come “in the guise of philosophers” but that “they do these things with a view to their own profit and reputation, and not to improve you”. He declares that this is “shocking; for it is as if a physician when visiting patients should disregard their treatment and their restoration to health, and should bring them flowers and courtesans and perfume”.

He then moves on to describe “only a few who have displayed frankness in your presence, and that but sparingly, not in the same way as to fill your ears therewith nor for any length of time; nay, they merely utter a phrase or two, and then, after berating rather than enlightening you, they make a hurried exit, anxious lest before they have finished you may raise an outcry and send them packing, behaving in very truth quite like men who in winter muster up courage for a brief and hurried voyage out to sea”.

“But to find a man”, Dio continues, “who in plain terms and without guile speaks his mind with frankness, and neither for the sake of reputation nor for gain makes false pretensions, but out of good will and concern for his fellow-men stands ready, if need be, to submit to ridicule and to the disorder and the uproar of the mob — to find such a man as that is not easy, but rather the good fortune of a very lucky city, so great is the dearth of noble, independent souls and such the abundance of toadies, mountebanks, and sophists”.

And then, he puts forward his own situation, calling on the (unidentified) deity whom he worships: “I feel that I have chosen that rôle, not of my own volition, but by the will of some deity”, and he concludes by affirming that “when divine providence is at work for men, the gods provide, not only good counsellors who need no urging, but also words that are appropriate and profitable to the listener”.

As Dio has explained his own mode of operating, in contrast to the imperfect and self-serving ways of others, so too Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy are pressing their case, using similar language and concepts to articulate their cause. They present as called by God, speaking to please God, eschewing morally questionable practices, and sharing their very lives with their audience. The similarities are striking.

These similarities are explored in detail in the Anchor Bible Commentary on 1 Thessalonians by Abraham Malherbe. There is a good summary of Malherbe’s analysis of 1 Thess 2 in this vein, at http://www.religion.emory.edu/faculty/robbins/SRI/Examples/textures/inter/echo2.cfm The initial article in Novum Testamentum (1970) in which Malherbe argued this case can be read at https://library.mibckerala.org/lms_frame/eBook/atla0000721845%20Cynic%20Background.pdf

I confess to having a clear bias in regard to this line of interpretation; Abe Malherbe was my doktorvater, the supervisor of my doctoral thesis, on hellenistic apologetics, Josephus, and Luke-Acts, at Yale University. Before that, I took classes with him during my coursework year, including an exegesis class on “Paul’s Macedonian Correspondence” (1 and 2 Thessalonians and Philippians), and I participated in a doctoral seminar on “Paul and the Moral Philosophers”—so I am well-schooled in the details of his case; and in full agreement with his view on this particular matter. (There were other exegetical matters in which we disagreed; the papers I wrote to argue against Malherbe’s views were nail-biting pieces, as he could be a fierce critic, as well as a warm encourager, on such matters.)

Let your gentleness be known to everyone (Philippians 4; Pentecost 20A)

In the movement that Jesus initiated, women exercised leadership equally with men; think of Mary Magdalene, Priscilla and Phoebe, Junia the apostle, Mary of Jerusalem, Euodia and Syntyche of Philippi, Tryphosa, Julia and Olympus of Rome, and many more unnamed. The continuing prominence of women leadership in subsequent decades (much to the consternation of some prominent male leaders!) attests to the valuing of female leadership in the movement that became Christianity.

Paul demonstrated, time and time again, that he was able to work constructively with female colleagues. He commends to the Romans the leader of the church in Cenchreae, Phoebe (Rom 16:1), whom he recognises as both diakonos—the same term he uses for Timothy and himself (Phil 1:1) as well as Apollos and himself (1 Cor 3:5, 9; 4:1)—and prostatis, a term indicating leadership exercised as a patron (cf. Rom 12:8 and 1 Thess 5:12).

Paul affirms as equally important the ministries of Prisca and Aquila, (Rom 16:3; 1 Cor 16:19; also 2 Tim 4:19), affirming that they “work[ed] with me in Christ Jesus, and risked their necks for my life” (Rom 16:4)—high praise indeed. Indeed, Paul strikingly named Prisca ahead of Aquila in two of these references, an unusual order which draws particular attention to his female co-worker.

In sending greetings to the believers in Rome (where he had not yet visited), Paul affirms the leadership of “Mary, who has worked very hard among you” (Rom 16:6) and Junia, who along with Andronicus is described as “my relatives who were in prison with me; they are prominent among the apostles, and they were in Christ before I was” (Rom 16:7).

Paul also notes with approval the mother of Rufus, “a mother to me also” (Rom 16:13) and a number of other females, named amd unnamed—Tryphaena and Tryphosa (Rom 16:12), “Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas, and all the saints who are with them” (Rom 16:15) and “the brothers and sisters who are with them” (Rom 16:14).

See more at

Women in the New Testament (1): the positive practices of Jesus and the early church

So in writing to the Philippians, Paul values his colleagues Euodia (a name meaning “sweet fragrance”) and Syntyche (a name meaning “with fate”—perhaps, blessed by fortune?). They are loyal (a fine quality); they have worked alongside Paul (and that would have been no mean feat!). Their names are “in the book of life”, an ancient Israelite idea (Mal 3:16; Isa 4:3; Ps 69:28) which continues on into Christianity (see the many references in Revelation).

There appears to have been some dissension between these two women—but they are not alone on that score! Think of the “sharp disagreement” (paroxysm in Greek) that occurred between Barnabas and Paul in Antioch (Acts 15:36–39); or the antagonism from “those who unsettle you” in Galatia—the ones of whom Paul wrote, “I wish [they] would castrate themselves” (Gal 5:12); or indeed the aggression that Paul shows towards “the dogs … the evil workers … those who mutilate the flesh!” (Phil 3:2). Paul himself is no role model of irenic collegial co-operation!

In this passage, Paul prays for joy, gentleness, and peace amongst the community in Philippi (4:5–7), and then exhorts them all to model in their lives “what you have learned and received and heard and seen” (4:9). Wise words for all of us, indeed.

*****

Years ago, when I was immersed in studying the letters of Paul, in the original Greek and in the context of relevant Hellenistic literature of the time, I came across a fine Greek word, parrhesia. This noun, and its related verb, appear 40 times in the New Testament (most often in the Gospel attributed to John). I studied it. It was an intriguing word.

Ten of these New Testament occurrences of parrhesia are in letters written by, or attributed to, Paul, and most of these are places where Paul refers to this concept with great admiration. Indeed, he explicitly applies it to his own way of operating (1 Thess 2:2; 2 Cor 3:12, 7:4; Phil 1:20).

Parrhesia seems a most suitable and fitting word for Paul to use to describe his modus operandi. It is variously translated as boldness, frankness, courage, assurance, a fearless freedom in expression, an unreserved style of speaking … or, perhaps most simply, “plain speaking”.

Sound like Paul? Yep, I reckon it does. A common picture of Paul is just this: he told it like it was, he stood tall and let it rip, proclaiming for all to hear exactly what he thought, how he saw things. Paul made regular use of parrhesia. And rightly so, for it was a quality in public speaking which had been valued, long before his time, and would continue to be valued, after his own lifetime.

Parrhesia—boldness, frankness, sheer unvarnished honesty—was a moral virtue, prized amongst philosophers and rhetoricians, and regularly used by Jewish and Christian orators. Even into our own time. Christian preachers who are famous in history are revered and honoured for their fine public speaking skills—Jonathan Edwards, Charles Spurgeon, William Wilberforce, Martin Luther King, Billy Graham, Nelson Mandela all spring to mind.

(Yikes, all men … shows my bias and the bias of public speaking throughout history … with apologies. Then again, such boldness and frankness has long been a very masculine characteristic in public discourse.)

No doubt you have encountered a preacher or pastor who exemplifies parrhesia. Who tells it like it is. Who does not hold back. Indeed, I have encountered such people, right throughout my adult life. Even up into the present. Even in the last few days. Even as my church continues to debate and argue about how we understand marriage and how we might (or should) ((or must!!)) practice it. My goodness, there have been instances of this very recently.

*****

But in the midst of this noisy discussion, I came across a comment by a colleague about another verse in one of Paul’s letters … another word, another late praised by Paul, another quality which had long been valued and honoured and promoted within the Hellenistic literature.

The verse is a short one in this passage in Philippians 4, where Paul is addressing the believers in the Roman colony of Philippi in Macedonia. There had been some tensions amongst this group of believers; Paul exhorts them to express unity of purpose, to support one another, and to live in a way that honours the faith they share together. He explicitly encourages them to support two women, Eudoia and Synthche, who are especially beloved of Paul.

He instructs them to “rejoice in the Lord”. Then, he says, “let your gentleness be known to everyone” (Phil 4:5). That instruction is striking for two reasons. First, it is oriented towards “everyone” … perhaps a more literal translation would be, “to every human being”. Not just within the community of faith, but to everyone whom they encounter and engage with, anywhere in society.

The second, even more striking, feature, is Paul’s use of the Greek word epieikes, which the NRSV translates as “gentleness”. This is almost the polar opposite of parrhesia. Instead of boldness, frankness, and the tub-thumping directness of a hard-hitting public argument, Paul encourages gentleness, mildness, a sense of fairness, in the way that believers are to engage with others. To be reasonable. To offer generosity in attending carefully to the other. To offer forbearance and patience.

But there is more. That word epieikes, and related words, are found in various places in Hellenistic literature, in writings which encourage an honest and thoughtful engagement between people. It is used by rhetoricians, philosophers, and historians, to indicate a way of engaging constructively, respectfully, openly, with other people. Indeed, the word has, at its root, the short verb eiko, which means, to yield, to give way to, to surrender.

So, Paul instructs the Philippians, at this point, to engage in respectful conversations with each other, in which one party yields to the other party—one party steps back, steps aside, pulls back from their boldness and frankness, stops and listens, ponders and reflects, allows the other party to express their view and to have it heard and registered.

And the same word pops up in a couple of other places in New Testament letters, where it appears in contrast to “quarrelling” in 1 Tim 3:3 and Titus 3:2, and in connection with being “peaceable” and “open to reason” in James 3:17. So these verses urge those who are fighting within the church to settle their dispute and focus on more important issues in the gospel. To do this would a provide a positive testimony, in a context where disputes about honour and reputation were common and all too unhelpful.

It seems to me that this is surely “a word of the Lord” for our time. For our place. For our current discussion. For our church, rent by divergent and disputing views. For our society, plunged into the morass of fake news and false accusations and incessant tweeting. And for the Uniting Church in Australia, continuing to grapple with its prophetic commitment to diversity, inclusivism, and an affirming welcome to all.

Let’s just demonstrate some epieikes. Let’s yield. Let’s be gentle. Let’s live the Gospel of abundant grace and liberating hope. May it be so.

See also

Turning to Philippians (Pentecost 17A)

At the completion of the long sequence of Epistle texts that the lectionary has offered from Romans 4–14 (Pentecost 2A to 16A), we now turn our attention to a letter that had been written to “all the saints in Christ Jesus who are in Philippi, with the bishops and deacons” (Phil 1:1). The section that is offered for this coming Sunday (Pentecost 17A) is Phil 1:21–30, which begins with the assertion, “for me, living is Christ and dying is gain” (1:21), and then goes on to offer a sympathetic identification with the Philippians in their struggles—“since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have” (1:30).

This means that we miss the opening section of this letter, where some important foundational factors are set forth. The opening verse indicates that the authors are “Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus”, which means that this letter, like three other authentic letters of Paul (2 Corinthians, 1 Thessalonians, and Philemon), has input from Timothy, whom Paul describes as “my beloved and faithful child in the Lord” (1 Cor 4:17), “our brother and co-worker for God in proclaiming the gospel of Christ” (1 Thess 3:2).

Timothy is claimed as co-author in two further letters written after the lifetime of Paul (Colossians and 2 Thessalonians), whilst another two letter, most likely from an even later time, towards the end of the first century, are written to Timothy, to encourage Timothy in his later role as “a good servant of Christ Jesus, nourished on the words of faith and of the sound teaching that you have followed” (1 Tim 4:6), and to “guard what has been entrusted to you” (1 Tim 6:20; 2 Tim 1:14).

In this letter, however, Timothy has matured from the young apprentice who has accompanied Paul in his activities in Philippi, Thessalonica, Beroea (Acts 16:1—17:14), and then in Corinth, Ephesus, Macedonia, and Troas (Acts 18:5—20:6). He has experienced much as he travels with Paul during this critical period. His faith, like Paul’s, had been tested, and strengthened by these experiences.

And perhaps Timothy continued with Paul, and others, in the journey beyond Troas. Was Timothy part of the “we” who are said to have made the journey from Troas to Miletus, then Cyprus, Ptolemais, Caesarea, and into Jerusalem (Acts 20:7—21:26)? If so, he was witness to many significant events in the latter part of the public activities of Paul, right up to the time of his arrest (Acts 21:27–36) and his very public defence in Jerusalem (Acts 21:37—22:21). Assuming, of course, that the account in Acts has a level of historical plausibility and accuracy (an assumption that needs to be tested at each stage along the way.)

The recipients of this letter are “all the saints in Christ Jesus who are in Philippi, with the bishops and deacons” (1:1). Philippi, like Thessalonica, was also located on the major transport link of the Egnatian Way. The site had first been colonized in the fourth century BCE, probably because of its abundant water supplies and fertile land. The discovery of gold nearby led Philip, the father of Alexander the Great, to establish a Macedonian garrison there in 356 BCE and fortify the city.

This Macedonian colony grew in size over time and became a Roman colony after the Battle of Philippi in 42 BCE, when Mark Antony and Octavius defeated Brutus and Cassius, the assassins of Julius Caesar.

A community of believers was established in the city during Paul’s visit, as reported in Acts 16:11–40; Paul himself refers briefly to this visit (1 Thess 2:2) and a subsequent visit to the city is mentioned in Acts 20:5. Later evidence for an ongoing Christian presence comes from a letter of Polycarp to the church in Philippi (about 160 CE).

This letter to the Philippians follows the typical letter structure in general terms only. There is a long main section (1:12–4:7, the body of the letter), introduced by a standard address and thanksgiving (1:1–11) and concluded by exhortations and greetings (4:8–23). The body of the letter is an extended encouragement to unity, initially signalled in the key term koinonia (“sharing”, or “fellowship”) which appears twice in the opening thanksgiving (1:5, 7).

We might well assume that the personal,references in this letter relate directly to Paul—certainly, that is the assumption of most interpreters. So it is Paul who states that he is writing this letter during one of his numerous periods of imprisonment. He refers directly to his imprisonment (1:7, 12–14, 17) and links that with his experience of suffering (1:17, 29–30). Later in the letter he develops a theological understanding of his situation by linking his suffering to that experienced by Jesus in his crucifixion, as a precursor to his resurrection (3:7–11).

However, attempts to specify his precise historical situation cause puzzlement. References to “the whole imperial guard” (1:13)—using the Latin term praetorium—and to “the emperor’s household” (4:22) might suggest that Paul and Timothy were writing to the Philippians when Paul was under imperial arrest in Rome, in the early 60s (as reported in Acts 28), but these terms were also used to describe the Roman military presence and civil serviced in provincial centres away from Rome. So the letter could have originated in any Roman-controlled city.

Other suggestions are that the letter was written when Paul was under arrest either in Caesarea (Acts 24–26), or in Ephesus (on the basis that 2 Cor 1:8–9 refers to a time in prison in that city). The latter claim is made because Caesarea and Rome are further away from Philippi, whereas there seems to have been a relatively short distance between Paul and the Philippians, enabling visitors to move back and forth in prompt fashion (2:19–30; 4:10–18). Ephesus would fit better because it was closer to Philippi. This places the letter near the end of the time that Paul was active in his evangelising mission.

The instruction that sits within the passage we hear this coming Sunday, “live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ” (1:27), is an instruction that signals a key concern in this letter. Indeed, in the following chapter, Paul and Timothy intensify this with an encouragement to “let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (2:5), before citing an early Christian hymn (2:6–11), that we will read on the following Sunday.

Later in the letter, the Philippians are urged to “rejoice in the Lord” (3:1), to “stand firm in the Lord” (4:1), and to “keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you’ll (4:9). The tone of sensitive encouragement to follow the example offered by Jesus runs throughout the letter, which has a markedly friendly tone in most sections of the letter.

In later weeks, the lectionary omits the one section of the letter, 3:2–4, which is the clear exception to this! Perhaps the antagonism to which this short section points (in the reference to “dogs” and “evil workers”) underlies the brief comment in the section that we read this Sunday, when Paul and Timothy indicate that they wish to know “that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel, and are in no way intimidated by your opponents” (1:27–28). Apart from these fleeting notes, the tone of this letter is positive, encouraging, and affirming.

Leaving Romans — or not (Pentecost 17A)

After a long stretch of passages taken from Paul’s long and complex letter to the Romans, the Revised Common Lectionary now leads us into shorter letters by Paul. First, we will spend four weeks considering passages from Philippians (Pentecost 17A to 20A), followed by five weeks focussed on the first letter to the Thessalonians (Pentecost 21A to 25A). After that, we have the Festival of the Reign of Christ, before we head into Advent, and there we stop the continuous pattern of the long season after Pentecost.

But before we leave Romans, it might be timely to look back, and consider the impact that this letter has had on Christianity. Romans is often seen as expressing the central paradox of the Gospel: God, being righteous, requires righteousness from people; God gives the Law to define that righteousness; yet in Jesus Christ, God has acted to make people righteous apart from this Law. In short, we are “justified” (made righteous) by the grace of God alone, not through any work that we ourselves do.

This, of course, was a doctrine that was born in controversy. Paul first articulates this paradox in a polemical argument in Galatia, where it seems that fervent advocates for the Gospel were maintaining that it was only by full and complete adherence to the Law that a person was able to be made righteous. Paul is incredibly snarky about this; he says such people are not “of God” (Gal 1:11–12), they are preaching “another Gospel” (1:6), that nobody is ever made righteous by the Law (3:11), and that relying on the Law is akin to being accursed (3:10).

This polemic continues in the later letter to the Romans, although in this letter Paul seeks to argue the case step by step, rather than simply call his opponents names. He sets out the theme of God’s righteousness (Rom 1:16–19), explains how this process is not dependent on the Law (3:21–26), calls on Abraham as a key example for the process of being made righteous apart from the Law (4:1–25), argues that Christ fulfils the Law (10:4; 13:8–10), and deals in detail with how the people who do depend on the Law are still integral to God’s plan of salvation (9:1—11:32). See more at

The significance of this letter can be seen in the fact that it is placed first in the collection of letters by Paul—in a sense declaring that “this exposition of the argument is the lens through which all other letters should be read and understood”. Its significance was recognised, in the 2nd century, by Marcion of Sinope, who recognised Paul as THE Apostle and excised all other letters from his version of the New Testament (as well as three of the four Gospels).

In response, Jewish Christians rejected Paul and his letters. Another form of marginalising his letters took place amongst eastern believers, leading to an emphasis in Orthodoxy on John’s Gospel—it was only the “mystical” aspects of Pauline theology which they utilised in their theological schema.

Paul’s letter to the Romans was a strong influence on Augustine, both in leading to his conversion, and in providing the foundations for developing his theological position, especially in relation to “original sin”. Rom 13:11–14 was the passage that led the young libertine Augustine to adopt an ascent in lifestyle and embrace Christ: “let us walk decently, as in the daytime, not in partying and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensual indulgence, not in fighting and jealousy, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the desires of the flesh”. (See Augustine, Confessions, 8:29.)

Augustine of Hippo

It was Augustine’s distinctive interpretation of just one small phrase in Rom 5:12 that undergirded his view on the original sin of all human beings, born into depravity and needing the grace of God to be saved. Pelagius remonstrated with him, saying “you undermine the moral law by preaching grace”; Augustine countered with detailed exposition of Pauline theology, grounded in his understanding of Romans. See my discussion of this at

In the preface to his (unfinished) commentary on Romans, Augustine wrote that God’s grace “is not something that is paid in justice like a debt contracted. No, it’s a free gift … Paul preached that [the Jews] should believe in Christ, and that there was no need to submit to the yoke of carnal circumcision.”

Paul’s letter to the Romans, along with his letter to the Galatians, was a key element in the argument that Martin Luther mounted against the church of his day, as he criticised the doctrines and practices of medieval Catholicism and paved the way for the German Reformation of the church.

When Luther was teaching on Paul’s letter to the Romans in 1513–1516, he had a dramatic experience: “‘I felt that I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates.’ This new understanding of this one verse—Rom 1:17— changed everything; it became in a real sense the doorway to the Reformation. ‘Thus that place in Paul was for me truly the gate to paradise,’ says Luther (Latin Writings, 336–337).”

Luther’s argument that righteousness is a gift which God gives by grace from faith in Jesus Christ, and not something earned or merited through human religious and moral performance, has influenced both how Paul has been viewed throughout the ensuing centuries, and also how many Protestant theologians viewed Catholicism. It led to the development of what has been called the “introspective conscience” of modernity, in distinction from the strongly collectivist understandings that more recent interpreters see at work in Paul’s writing.

Portrait of Martin Luther by Lucas Cranach the Elder, 1530.
Photograph: Ullstein Bild/Getty

In his commentary on Romans, Luther wrote, “It [Romans] is the true masterpiece of the New Testament, and the very purest Gospel, which is well worthy and deserving that a Christian man should not only learn it by heart, word for word, but also that he should daily deal with it as the daily bread of men’s souls. For it can never be too much or too well read or studied; and the more it is handled the more precious it becomes, and the better it tastes.”

Two centuries later, on May 24, 1738, John Wesley was attending an evening service at Aldersgate Street in London. Part of Martin Luther’s commentary on Romans was read aloud. Wesley remembers, “He was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ. I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for my salvation; and an assurance was given me that he had taken my sins away, even mine; and saved me from the law of sin and death” (John Wesley, Works (1872), volume 1).

John Wesley

The letter to the Romans has also played a key role in the theological development of Karl Barth, the most prolific and probably most influential theologian of the 20th century. In the summer of 1916, Barth decided to write a commentary on Paul’s Epistle to the Romans as a way of rethinking his theological inheritance. The work was published in 1919; a second edition, with many revisions, followed in 1922.

This work, like many of his others, emphasizes the saving grace of God and the complete inability of human beings to know God outside of God’s revelation in Christ. Specifically, Barth argued that “the God who is revealed in the cross of Jesus challenges and overthrows any attempt to ally God with human cultures, achievements, or possessions”.

Karl Barth

Barth led the attack on Protestant Liberalism, which in his view had held an impossibly optimistic view of the human condition and of the possibility of universal salvation. Romans was key to Barth’s creation of Neo-Orthodoxy and his insistence that Christianity was not a human religion, but a divine revelation. And that set the parameters for a key theological debate throughout the 20th century.

Phew! That’s an awful lot of influence for just one letter! We might be leaving Romans behind in the weekly lectionary offerings; but it is certain that the influence of Paul’s letter to the Romans continues apace, influencing our theology—whether we are aware of that, or not!

(And, yes, I know that this is a string of men interpreting what men have written and said … perhaps someone needs to explore and discover how a number of women have received and understood and used this letter?)

*****

For my string of exegetical posts about Romans that I have posted throughout Year A, see https://johntsquires.com/2023/09/18/ruminating-on-romans/