The superficially similar phrase used by Philostratus (Vit. Apoll. 8.7: καὶ τί τὸ σχῆμα τοῦ κόσμου τούτου;), cited by Conzelmann, 1 Corinthians, 134n28) has a very different sense: it refers to the universe of wayward people dependent on the wisdom of the wise. For further linguistic parallels, see G. van Kooten, “How Greek was Paul’s Eschatology?,” NTS 61, no. 2 (2015): 239–53, at 242n5. ↵
For an exposition of the parallels, see esp. Schrage, “Stellung zur Welt,” slightly modified in his Erste Brief, 168–69. ↵
For the different uses of the term κόσμος in 1 Corinthians and Romans, see Adams, Constructing the World. It is Paul’s hope for the future liberation of creation (Romans 8) that saves his negative comments about “this world” from turning into a Gnostic dualism. ↵
Cf. Schrage, Erste Brief, 183: “Der eigentliche Grund der christlichen Freiheit von der Welt ist aber nicht die in der Zukunft oder auch schon in der Gegenwart vergehende Welt, sondern der gegenwärtige und wiederkommende Herr, dem die Christen schon gehören.” ↵
See, e.g., Diogenes of Laertius 7.101–3. For comparison with Paul, see J. L. Jaquette, Discerning What Counts: The Function of the Adiaphora Topos in Paul’s Letters, SBLDS 146 (Atlanta: Scholars, 1995). ↵
For an excellent analysis of the Stoic and Cynic debates on marriage, see Deming, Paul on Marriage and Celibacy. ↵
Even in the household codes, love is named in relation to husbands, but not to wives (Col. 3:19–20; Eph. 5:21–33). ↵
See J. Økland, Women in their Place: Paul and the Corinthian Discourse of Gender and Sanctuary Space, JSNTSup 269 (London: T&T Clark, 2004). ↵
E. Adams, Early Christian Meeting Places: Almost Exclusively Houses?, LNTS 450 (London: T&T Clark, 2013). ↵
The household codes, of course, do move towards “Christianizing” the household, and thereby leave an ambiguous legacy: the organization of the household becomes a matter of direct relationship to Christ, but its hierarchical relations, including the ownership of slaves, thereby becomes normalized, even idealized, as the direct expression of allegiance to Christ. For reflections on this matter, see my “Ordinary but Different: Colossians and Hidden Moral Identity,” in J. M. G. Barclay, Pauline Churches and Diaspora Jews, WUNT 275 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 237–55. ↵
That the single woman seeks to be “holy in body and spirit” (7:34) could be interpreted that way, and quickly was in the history of reception: see, e.g., The Acts of Paul and Thecla. ↵
See the fine analysis by A. S. May, The Body for the Lord: Sex and Identity in 1 Corinthians 5-7, JSNTSup 278 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2004), who, to my mind, rightly argues that it is not the Corinthians who advocate singleness (“it is better for a man not to touch a woman,” 7:1), but Paul. ↵
See esp. R. Bultmann, “The Understanding of Man and the World in the New Testament and in the Greek World,” in Essays Philosophical and Theological (London: SCM, 1955), 67–89, and “Man Between the Times according to the New Testament,” in Existence and Faith (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1961), 248–66. For comment on this motif in Bultmann, see the introduction to the latter volume by S. Ogden. ↵
Bultmann, “Understanding of Man,” 78. ↵
Against common misperceptions, it is important to note that “apocalyptic” meant far more to Käsemann than the imminence of the end. Its critical question was “to whom does the world belong?,” and in pointing to the coming Lord, the early Christians declared that the answer had already been given in Jesus’ enthronement over the powers that threaten and enslave the cosmos. See, e.g., E. Käsemann, “On the Subject of Primitive Christian Apocalyptic,” in New Testament Questions of Today, trans. W. J. Montague (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1969), 108–37, at 135. ↵
This is the direction in which Agamben’s reading seems to tend, collapsing the future into an aesthetic transformation of the present and “the time of the end” into “the time that time takes to come to an end.” See G. Agamben, The Time that Remains: A Commentary on the Letter to the Romans (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2005), 19–43, 62–87. ↵
14
After Destroying Every Rule, Authority, and Power
Paul, Apocalyptic, and Politics in 1 Corinthians
John K. Goodrich
Apocalyptic is the disquieting question which not only moves the apostle but apparently faces every Christian, a question bound up with his task and his existence: who owns the earth?[1]
At the beginning of his now famous essay “On the Subject of Primitive Christian Apocalyptic,” Ernst Käsemann referred to apocalyptic as an “unfashionable theme” (unzeitgemäßes Thema).[2] Such cannot be maintained today. Following recent efforts to reconcile biblical and theological studies as interdependent disciplines, apocalyptic readings of the NT have come to abound in modern scholarship, and Pauline theology is unquestionably one of the primary fields in which fascination with apocalyptic has reached new heights.
In the wake of this frenzy, biblical scholars have highlighted numerous themes they consider to be fundamental to the genre and worldview of early Jewish apocalyptic. Perhaps the single most stimulating insight emphasized afresh in recent years is the notion that apocalyptic, for all its fascination with otherworldly conflicts, originated as political discourse and is thus routinely concerned with promoting various modes of resistance to terrestrial empires. Richard Horsley, for example, discounting the notion of a hard cosmic dualism perpetuated in some older scholarship, contends that the clashes within the angelic arena narrated by Jewish seers had direct correlations to events occurring on the earthly political stage. By portraying God’s heavenly armies as defeating those evil powers standing behind human political and military agents, these visions imparted hope to, and incited active resistance among, faithful Israelites who suffered under the oppressive hand of foreign rule.[3] “The Second Temple Judean texts that have been classified as apocalyptic,” Horsley asserts, “are the expressions of their struggles to affirm that God was still in control of history and to resist Hellenistic or Roman rule that had become overly oppressive.”[4] Put differently: “Unless it is simply a historical accident, it is surely significant that no Second Temple Judean text classified as ‘apocalyptic’ has survived that does not focus on imperial rule and the opposition to it.”[5]
For Horsley, this inherent relationship between political resistance and apocalyptic modes of thinking extends also to the letters of Paul. As he maintains, “It is precisely against the [apocalyptic] background of . . . God’s (plan for the) overcoming of imperial rule that Paul’s anti-Roman imperial stance and anti-Roman imperial rhetoric [in 1 Corinthians] can be understood.”[6] Many of Horsley’s conclusions are embraced by others, including N. T. Wright, who likewise insists that “we should really see ‘apocalyptic,’ in both its Jewish and Pauline contexts, as all about the fresh revelation of Israel’s God and particularly the exposé of the folly and blasphemy of pagan power.”[7]
There remains disagreement, however, over the extent to which all such apocalyptic writings sought to advocate resistance. Although Anathea Portier-Young endorses Horsley’s basic premise about the relationship between empire and apocalyptic and affirms the function of the early apocalypses as resistance literature, she distinguishes between the genre’s earlier and later functions.[8] “The genre pattern of the historical apocalypse emerged,” she explains, “in response to a situational pattern. But this bond was not indissoluble. Later Jewish apocalyptic literature would reuse and adapt the forms and conventions of this genre to respond to different kinds of situations, and in different ways.”[9] Such later apocalyptic writings, she continues, could “embody discursive resistance as well as aim to motivate and sustain a program of resistance to domination and hegemony. But this was not a necessary function of the genre apocalypse. Resistance literature proves to be an apt category for some apocalyptic literature, but by no means all.”[10] For Portier-Young, an individual apocalyptic work must not be forced to
convey the same message and apply it in the same manner as its generic or theological antecedents. Readers, rather, must remain sensitive to a text’s historical setting and original voice. As she concludes, “The crucial link between resistance literature and the situations in which it arises means that we cannot make a general claim about the function of Jewish apocalyptic literature as resistance literature. Genre matters, but genre is fluid, and times change. If we wish to articulate what kinds of cultural work a text performed we must also be able to articulate when and where, for whom, and under what circumstances.”[11]
These concessions are instructive for the study of Paul. Although the apostle’s letters can be—and have been—read as resistance literature (insofar as they can serve to “limit, oppose, reject, or transform hegemonic institutions”), it is not always clear that this is what his letters aim to do—the intention, and not just implication, of a particular work being an important component of Portier-Young’s definition of resistance literature.[12] Nor is there widespread agreement about precisely how and to what extent Paul’s letters function to resist imperialism when they do. For while it is incorrect to maintain that Paul’s writings pose no challenge to political authorities,[13] the counter-imperial sentiment of some apocalyptic literature has led many NT interpreters to conclude that Paul’s letters, infused as they are with apocalyptic themes, insist on a degree of separation from and opposition to Roman rule that goes too far beyond what they, at least on the surface, seem to promote.[14]
Due to these currents within recent scholarship, it is the goal of this chapter to investigate how and to what extent apocalyptic and politics intersect within Paul’s thinking, as well as how and to what extent Paul’s apocalyptic discourses promote resistance to political authorities.[15] Our focus here will be limited to three passages in 1 Corinthians where apocalyptic and politics undoubtedly converge: 1 Cor. 2:6–8; 6:1–11; and 15:20–28. My thesis is quite simple: these three passages function as what Portier-Young calls discursive resistance, asserting God’s supremacy over empires by forecasting the certain, future, and final demise of all inimical powers, including all governing authorities who remain unsubmissive to Christ. Nevertheless, Paul’s letter neither advocates active resistance to empire nor insists upon a wholesale opposition to Rome. In fact, within Paul’s rhetorical polemic, these rulers remain nameless, faceless, and generally less “significant” than the named ontological powers of sin and death (cf. 1 Cor. 15:26, 54–56).[16]
As we treat these passages in sequence, I will, in each case, seek to establish that: (1) Paul had political authorities in view; (2) Paul considered these authorities to be asserting power and hegemony warranting resistance; and (3) Paul’s discourse serves to resist the power assertions and power claims of those in political authority by exposing the transience of their power and by turning his readership’s attention to God’s future redemptive work, not by promoting rebellion. Finally, I will briefly assess the extent to which Rome as a specific political entity figures into Paul’s apocalyptic discourse.
Resisting the Rulers of this Age
(1 Corinthians 2:6–8)
The first explicit mention of earthly political authorities in 1 Corinthians occurs in 2:6–8. Seeking to censure the Corinthians for their spiritual immaturity (esp. in 3:1–4),[17] Paul in 2:6–3:4 turns his attention first to the recipients of the divine wisdom he has been commissioned to impart. This wisdom, he explains, is spoken among the mature, and it is a wisdom neither “of this age” nor “of the rulers of this age, who are passing away” (τῶν ἀρχόντων τοῦ αἰῶνος τούτου τῶν καταργουμένων, 2:6). But how can we be sure about the identity of “the rulers” in this hotly contested passage?
Although ἄρχων occasionally refers to celestial beings in apocalyptic literature,[18] and such a reading of 1 Cor. 2:6–8 has been vigorously defended throughout the history of biblical scholarship,[19] Paul’s only other use of the plural ἄρχοντες (Rom. 13:3), together with the progression of thought in the immediate context of our passage, suggests that οἱ ἄρχοντες τοῦ αἰῶνος τούτου in 1 Cor. 2:6–8 refer only to human political authorities.[20] Indeed, the primary topic of 2:6–3:4 concerns the means for understanding divine wisdom. God’s previously hidden wisdom, Paul shows, has now been revealed to believers “through the Spirit” (2:10), such that it is only through the Spirit’s agency that a mere human (ἄνθρωπος) is capable of comprehending and accepting the gospel (2:11–16). This line of thought is apparent through the repeated contrast between human and divine/Spirit agency in both the previous and present sections (see Figure 1).
Figure 1: Key Contrasts between Human and Divine/Spirit Agency
in 1 Corinthians 2–3
Human Divine/Spirit
2:4 οὐκ ἐν πειθοῖς σοφίας λόγοις ἀλλ᾽ ἐν ἀποδείξει πνεύματος καὶ δυνάμεως
2:5 μὴ ᾖ ἐν σοφίᾳ ἀνθρώπων ἀλλ᾽ ἐν δυνάμει θεοῦ
2:13 οὐκ ἐν διδακτοῖς ἀνθρωπίνης σοφίας λόγοις ἀλλ᾽ ἐν διδακτοῖς πνεύματος
2:14–15 ψυχικὸς ἄνθρωπος οὐ δέχεται τὰ τοῦ πνεύματος τοῦ θεοῦ
3:1–4 οὐχὶ σαρκικοί ἐστε καὶ κατὰ ἄνθρωπον περιπατεῖτε; . . . οὐκ ἄνθρωποί ἐστε; πνευματικοί
In the light of our passage’s consistent anthropolemical discourse, it is right to conclude, as one recent monograph explains, that “the wisdom of God identified with the message of the cross is perceived only by the ‘mature’ and ‘spiritual’ as a result of the revelation of God’s Spirit and not as a result of human wisdom, and much less of the teachers’ eloquence.”[21] That being the case, it would make little sense for Paul in 2:6–8 to fault angelic beings for failing to understand wisdom comprehensible only through the assistance of the Holy Spirit. A polemic against human governing authorities, on the contrary, would do well to advance his argument.
In fact, given Paul’s abundant use of contrast in both 1:18–2:5 and 2:6–3:4, it should be clear that when Paul juxtaposes “the rulers of this age who are being destroyed” with “the mature” (2:6; cf. 14:20; Phil. 3:15) who are destined “for glory” (εἰς δόξαν, 2:7), he does so to create an anthropological distinction between believers and unbelievers. This becomes clearer as the passage progresses. For it is this reference to “our glory” (δόξαν ἡμῶν, 2:7) that leads Paul to contrast “the rulers of this age” (2:8)—“who crucified the Lord of glory [τῆς δόξης]” and have never seen, heard, or comprehended the eschatological blessings “God has prepared” (2:9)—with “us” (2:10)—believers “who love [God]” (2:9) and have been “revealed” divine mysteries (2:10). In view of these elaborate contrasts, it is quite doubtful that οἱ ἄρχοντες τοῦ αἰῶνος τούτου in 2:6–8 is a reference to angelic beings, or even a double-reference to human and angelic beings.[22] Rather, Paul here has terrestrial powers and the wisdom they propound exclusively in view; otherwise, his denunciation of human wisdom (ἀνθρωπίνη σοφία) and the natural person (ψυχικὸς ἄνθρωπος) in 2:13–3:4 is a non sequitur.[23]
Having, then, identified οἱ ἄρχοντες τοῦ αἰῶνος τούτου as human authorities, we are now in a position to ask how Paul’s apocalyptic discourse in 1 Cor. 2:6–8 advocates resistance to political authorities. In order to answer this question, we must inquire about how these rulers established the conditions for resistance through domination and hegemony, as well as how Paul here aims to subvert these conditions.
Although the rulers Paul has in view undoubtedly exercised power in a variety of ways, according to our passage, they do so principally by obtaining and exercising a monopoly on intellectual, socio-economic, and executive power. These rulers prided themselves for belonging t
o the world’s wise, powerful, and well-born elite (σοφοί, δυνατοί/ἰσχυρά, εὐγενεῖς, τὰ ὄντα, 1:26–29; cf. 2:6), and Paul attributes to them a contemptuous outlook upon those comprising the church: God chose foolish, weak, lowly-born, and despised nobodies (τὰ μωρά, τὰ ἀσθενῆ, τὰ ἀγενῆ, τὰ ἐξουθενημένα, τὰ μὴ ὄντα, 1:27–28).[24] This attitude, far from harmless, not only manifested in the rulers’ disregard for the divine wisdom revealed in Jesus Christ, but climaxed in his crucifixion (2:8). Indeed, the very wisdom and power that distinguished these aristocrats from those whom they governed were ironically leveraged in the murder of the one who embodies God’s true wisdom and power (1:24, 30).
Paul, however, challenges the dominion of the world’s rulers, first, by exposing their lack of true and lasting resources. While the rulers assume they possess the lion’s share of the world’s intellectual and social capital, Paul perceives them to be intellectually and spiritually bankrupt for failing to grasp God’s transcendent wisdom. It is in this way that the revelation of mysteries is inherently polemical, demonstrating the insufficiency of mundane knowledge and the superiority of those with access to the knowledge only God can unveil. Just as Daniel’s revealed mysteries served to subvert the wise men of Nebuchadnezzar’s court (Dan. 2:13, 27–28), so Paul’s revealed mysteries, indebted as they are to the Danielic concept, analogously serve to undermine the pretension of the σοφοί and ἄρχοντες of this age (1:19–20; 2:6–8).[25]
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