At the Last Judgment, God can be expected to provide an effective remedy, usually the Spirit, in the new age for the strong human inclination to sin either by submitting themselves to the powers that be (in the cosmological pattern) or by making the wrong choice between life and death (in the forensic pattern). Cf. Ezek. 11:19–20; Jub. 1:23–24; 1QS 4:20. For Paul, see especially Gal. 3:1–5; 4:6, 16–25; Rom. 8:1–26, where the Spirit is God’s powerful weapon against the works of the Flesh. ↵
The same is true of Revelation. Furthermore, the relevant Jewish texts also often exhibit elements from both patterns, especially the Dead Sea Scrolls. ↵
Schweitzer, Mysticism, 57. ↵
Ibid., 55. ↵
Ibid., 54. ↵
See de Boer, Defeat of Death; idem, “Justification in Paul: A Comparison of Galatians with Romans,” available online at http://www.academia.edu. ↵
See de Boer, “Paul’s Mythologizing Program.” The way in which the Law functions in the dual reign of Sin and Death shows that Israel does not constitute an exception any more than Abraham does. Abraham is placed among the ungodly (Rom. 4:5), and thus among the dead (4:17), as is Israel (11:15). There is, for Paul, “no distinction” with respect to either the plight or the solution (3:22; 10:12). ↵
Martyn, Galatians, 105: “Specifically, both God’s sending of Christ to suffer death in behalf of humanity (the cross) and Christ’s future coming (the parousia) are invasive acts of God. And their being invasive acts—into a space that has temporarily fallen out of God’s hands—points to the liberating war that is crucial to Paul’s apocalyptic theology. It is this apocalyptic vision, then, that has given Paul his perception of the nature of the human plight. . . . The root trouble lies deeper than human guilt, and it is more sinister” (emphasis original). Cf. Käsemann, Commentary on Romans (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 134. ↵
Cf. Martyn, “Antinomies,” 122. See further, Beverly Roberts Gaventa, “The Rhetoric of Violence and the God of Peace in Paul’s Letter to the Romans,” in Paul, John, and Apocalyptic Eschatology, eds. J. Krans et al., NovTSup 149 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 61–75. ↵
As noted above, Paul does not abandon or reject forensic elements, such as a final judgment for deeds (cf. Rom. 14:10; 1 Cor. 5:10). It is this combination of elements that makes Paul a great and challenging thinker. ↵
In 1 Corinthians 1–2, Paul uses the rhetoric of crucifixion to establish the end, that is, the destruction, of human “wisdom” for the believers in Corinth. ↵
Cf. de Boer, Defeat of Death, 176–77. ↵
Πίστις χριστοῦ can be translated either as “(human) faith in Christ” (the traditional rendering) or as “the faith(fulness) of Christ,” which has received increasing support in recent years. See de Boer, Galatians, 148–50; and further below. My point would still stand if one were to adopt the traditional interpretation and translation. ↵
Cf. Martyn, Galatians, 362: “On the whole . . . his [Paul’s] apocalyptic language refers not to an unveiling of some thing, but to an invasion carried out by some one who has moved into the world from outside it” (emphasis original). I sought to provide a firmer basis for this claim, first in “Paul and Apocalyptic Eschatology,” 354–57, and more expressly in “Paul, Theologian of God’s Apocalypse,” 25–29. This material was then incorporated into an excursus on “Paul’s Language of Apocalyptic Revelation” in Galatians, 79–82. What follows is a brief summary of some relevant points. ↵
Paul uses the terms ἀποκάλυψις and ἀποκαλύπτω in other passages (Rom. 2:5; 8:18; 1 Cor. 3:13) in a similar way, that is, in connection with a future apocalyptic‑eschatological event. ↵
This eschatological activity and movement are a sign and a confirmation of God’s liberating love: cf. e.g., Rom. 5:8. Further, faith itself “works through love” (Gal. 5:6: cf. 1 Cor. 13). ↵
“Apocalyptic Antinomies,” 417 (emphasis removed). ↵
Ibid., 417, 424n29. ↵
The evidence of 3:23 is one of the reasons that the phrase πίστις χριστοῦ (see note 62 above) is probably to be construed as “the faith(fullness) of Christ,” referring specifically to his death as the defining mark of that faithfulness (cf. Gal. 2:20-21; Rom. 3:21–26). ↵
Note the parallel between Gal. 5:6 (faith working through love) and 6:15 (new creation). ↵
Martyn, Galatians, 363. For Martyn, the epistemological implications of Christ’s apocalypse are crucially important. About this, Stuckenbruck has perceptively written: “Martyn’s approach to apocalyptic does not obligate the interpreter to find any essential continuity with comparable or contrasting Jewish paradigms. Once God has disclosed God’s self in the Christ event as a new way of knowing, all that came before becomes functionally irrelevant, not only for Paul but even for Paul’s interpreters” (“Overlapping Ages,” 317). ↵
The two terms are rather rare in secular sources; cf. A. Oepke, “ἀποκαλύπτω, ἀποκάλυψις,” TDNT, vol. 3 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965), 570–71. The noun occurs in the LXX only four times, with the meaning “disclosure” or “revelation” (1 Sam. 20:30; Ode 13:32; Sir. 11:27; 22:22), though the verb occurs much more frequently. ↵
4
Apocalyptic Epistemology
The Sine Qua Non of Valid Pauline Interpretation
Douglas A. Campbell
An apocalyptic explanation of Paul’s epistemology is one of the most important positions that an interpreter of the apostle can adopt; indeed, I will argue here that it is the sine qua non of all further valid interpretation. But in my experience, Paul’s modern interpreters do not always grasp what is at stake here very clearly. Linguistic and historical-critical training are not, one suspects, the best preparations for intense discussions of epistemological warrant. So, I will try to clarify in what follows just what is implicit in an apocalyptic approach to Paul’s theological epistemology, and its importance. A classic essay on the subject can provide us with a useful way into these issues.
Epistemology in 2 Corinthians 5:16–17
J. Louis (Lou) Martyn’s “Epistemology at the Turn of the Ages”[1] orbits around Paul’s dramatic assertions in 2 Cor. 5:16–17:
[5:16] Ὥστε ἡμεῖς ἀπὸ τοῦ νῦν οὐδένα οἴδαμεν κατὰ σάρκα· εἰ καὶ ἐγνώκαμεν κατὰ σάρκα Χριστόν, ἀλλὰ νῦν οὐκέτι γινώσκομεν. [17] ὥστε εἴ τις ἐν Χριστῷ, καινὴ κτίσις· τὰ ἀρχαῖα παρῆλθεν, ἰδοὺ γέγονεν καινά.
[5:16] So then, we know no one from the present moment according to the flesh. Even if we knew Christ according to the flesh, we now no longer know [him in these fleshly terms].[2] [17] So then, if someone is in Christ, he[3] is a new creation: the old has departed; behold, he has become quite new. [My translation]
Paul is clarifying here—among other things—that humanity is no longer to be understood from a location in the “flesh,” which almost certainly means, from a created and fallen location “in Adam” (see also Rom. 5:12–21; 1 Cor. 15:22, 48). Now, everyone is to be understood “in Christ,” which, Paul elaborates immediately, denotes from the point of view of the “new creation” inaugurated by Christ. Hence here, his auditors almost certainly detected an eschatological claim bound up with Christ’s resurrection and ascension. Furthermore, we can infer both implicitly, over against the phrase κατὰ σάρκα, and from the broader context (see esp. 4:13; 5:5), that this dramatic new location has been established by the divine Spirit.
Martyn goes on to describe Paul’s broader assertions that the Corinthians are not reading their situation correctly—in the light of this revelation that is taking place in Christ that establishes a new creation. They are consequently not in touch with the truth of the situation, which is to say, with its reality. Admittedly, this reality is largely unseen, so Paul denotes it with the language of understanding and believing versus sight and visibility,[4] and in terms even of inner
versus outer.[5] But it is nevertheless quite real, and the Corinthians are overlooking it when they should be attending to it. They are, after all, caught up with it themselves.
However, with this very basic account of what Paul is saying in this text in place, his modern interpreters need to confront some important and difficult questions, and as much about themselves as about Paul. They must enquire about their own epistemology—which, in this case, must be theological since it involves God—and ask if what Paul is saying is true and how this can be known. And they must ask this question now, before doing any further analysis of the apostle.
Theological epistemology is concerned with the assessment of what theologians sometimes call “God-talk”—an activity that Paul is clearly involved with all the time and not just in 2 Cor. 5:16–17, although this text is an especially good example of it. The key question that must be placed to God-talk concerns, quite simply, the question of its truth. How do we know that the talk about God that we are hearing or reading—or perhaps even writing—is actually true? Or, more precisely: What is the status of the truth claims implicit in every statement that involves speech about God, a question raised by almost every sentence Paul wrote? Modern interpreters clearly need to address this question when they interpret Paul. But why do they need to place this question first, prior to all subsequent analysis of different questions in Paul?
The reasons are directly implicit in the dramatic statements of 2 Cor. 5:16–17. Indeed, this point is really quite obvious once one notices it, for our reconstruction of what is actually going on in and around Paul must change dramatically, depending on how we judge the truth or falsity of his assertions.
As we have just seen, Paul is claiming that he is involved with God—the God who has resurrected and located him, at least primarily, within a new creation. From this dramatic new vantage point, he now understands things correctly, whereas from other vantage points within the realm of the flesh, he could not. In Christ, therefore, Paul possesses the correct knowledge of humanity, and indeed, of Christ himself. From this location, he articulates various claims and recommendations—and hence, much of the rest of 2 Corinthians— largely if not completely reflecting this new starting point’s accounts of God, of Christ, and of his own striking new existence. But it follows directly from this that the truth of almost all of Paul’s statements is directly dependent on the truth of his initial programmatic claims concerning his new, revealed, participatory location “in Christ.” If this location is, in fact, true, then his further claims might be true; if it is not, then his further claims are definitely not true. And the implications for further explication are immediate and far-reaching.
Paul’s own account of his location attributes its principal causality to divine action. Moreover, he is claiming nothing less than that he is “in Christ,” and consequently, is primarily and fundamentally, at the divine behest, “now” “a new creation.” But if all this is true, any more extended account of the reality with which he is involved—and indeed, of history more broadly—must reflect this truth; God is at work in it, in and through Christ. So everything is not as it seems to the naked eye, and one must “believe” and “know” that this “veiled,” “inner,” and unseen dimension within reality is, in fact, the most important one within its dynamics, and analyze accordingly.
Conversely, if God is not at work through Christ, we will have to supplya fundamentally different account of Paul’s meaning—and motivations, and perhaps even of his sheer rationality—from the one he himself is supplying. Our reconstruction of his history will differ radically, as well as our reconstruction of the history surrounding him more broadly. Moreover, it will most likely be a reductionist account from Paul’s point of view. We will probably flatten the situation’s causal dynamics into immanence. The key causes are all apparent to the naked eye. God is not involved with Paul. There is no veiled, inner, or unseen dimension driving events. Indeed, Paul’s claim to be resurrected in some sense is fundamentally deluded, as are his corresponding assessments of the status of Jesus and of his own apostolic importance.
In short, then, fundamentally different accounts of the historical realities in play in and around Paul will be supplied, depending on our answer to the question of the truth of his God-talk. So, clearly, we need to confront this important question concerning the status of his God-talk, and do so immediately. However, further reflection suggests that the assessment of this situation cannot be undertaken independently of some consideration of our approach to this question. Modern interpreters themselves are immediately and inextricably caught up in assessments of the truth of God-talk.
One does not typically find this sort of consideration in a modern scholarly essay on Paul, but it should be clear by now that I have introduced it here for unavoidable reasons. Paul’s modern interpreter must decide whether God is really at work in Christ reconciling the cosmos—and therefore, partly by way of Paul’s life and letters—or is not. As we have just seen, the broader historical explanation of his activity will pivot dramatically around the answer that is supplied to this question—whether in terms of endorsement or reductionism, not to mention the conceptualization of history itself. And as we ask how we know whether God was at work in Paul or not—a question reaching out inevitably to include us—another interlocutor will be helpful, namely, Karl Barth.[6]
Barth’s Recommendations in Relation
to the Assessment of God-Talk
Barth himself begins to answer this question by, in effect, endorsing the christologically enthusiastic side of “the divine identity” debate in Paul.[7] Indeed, he anticipated its key moves by some distance. Part I, Volume 1 of the Church Dogmatics (hereafter CD I/1, etc.[8]) is a sustained reflection on the implications of the claim “Jesus is Lord,” on the assumption that Jesus is being identified as God in this predication that uses terminology drawn from the Bible. So, clearly, Barth would encourage readers of Paul to take this claim in the apostle’s writings with complete seriousness. However, Barth argues that this confession has several immediate and critical implications.
He observes that the realization and consequent conviction and confession that the human being, Jesus of Nazareth, was God present in God’s fullness must be a disclosure or revelation. Nothing can prepare someone to assess the truth of this statement. So, for example, prior to the incarnation nobody, including Paul, knew that the human Jesus would be part of the divine identity, or vice versa. Barth argues then that this conviction rests on a revelation—or, as Paul sometimes said, an “apocalypse” (see esp. Gal. 1:15–16; 3:23)—that this is, in fact, the case. Put slightly differently, he is suggesting that this truth is self-authenticating. This truth is known because, at bottom, the truth has made it known. And at this moment, it becomes clear that this revelation really requires a revealer in addition to its revealed content, which Paul turns out to be quite explicit about as well.
The Holy Spirit discloses this deepest truth about God. Only God can reveal to persons such as Paul, located elsewhere from Jesus in time and space, that God is fully present in Jesus (cp. esp. 1 Cor. 2:10). So, as Barth articulated later on with more precision, the realization that Jesus is God has an implicitly Trinitarian structure (see esp. CD I/1; and I/2). We must therefore speak henceforth of God in terms of one who sends, whom Paul calls “the Father”; one who is sent, Jesus; and one who comes to Paul’s (or Barth’s) location and discloses this truth, namely, the Spirit (again using here—at least primarily—terminology drawn from the Bible; see esp. 2 Cor. 13:13).[9]
In relation to our current question, then, Barth advises Christians that their recognition of the truth of the claim “Jesus is Lord” is a gift from the Lord to those so convinced, generating the knowledge that God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.[10] But this insight into the basis of the most fundamental Christian truths places modern interpreters in an intriguing relationship with Paul and his modern analysis.
Historical reconstruction might suggest that Paul himself attributed
his critical realizations about God acting in Christ to a revelation or apocalypse in this sense too—as, in effect, an early Barthian. But it follows now both from the modern experience of revelation—assuming that this has been acknowledged—and from the historical reconstruction of Paul’s revelation, that Paul’s modern interpreters will not share his point of view that Jesus is revealed as Lord simply because they have reconstructed it in him, finding this view there using a historical method (and even if this takes place on the basis of an authoritative text). That would not be a revelation; that would be the discovery that he had had a revelation. We might know that Paul thought that Jesus was Lord because he had had a revelation; but we would not necessarily know for ourselves that Jesus is Lord, and therefore, know whether his God-talk was true. A reductionist account of his texts and life would still beckon. Moreover, Paul’s attribution of this truth to revelation would stand over against our access to this truth by way of historical reconstruction as well. He himself would therefore dispute our approach to the assessment of this claim. It is, he would say, revealed and not reconstructed. So, Paul’s later readers will only share his point of view if they too have first detected and responded to the same revelation in their own location(s). Consequently, the assessment of the truth of Paul’s God-talk really challenges his modern interpreters to make this judgment first, in relation to themselves—a moment of self-reflection that is now unavoidable, somewhat ironically, in the interests of good historical reconstruction.
Paul and the Apocalyptic Imagination Page 9