West Loop UBF - Chicago, Illinois: December 2020

THE CROSS: PARADIGM OF FAITHFULNESS. Paul's letters offer very little information about the man Jesus. But when Paul refers to what Jesus did, the references point, over and over again, to the cross. This concentration on the death of Jesus is the outworking of Paul's determination "to know nothing … except Jesus Christ, and him crucified" (1 Cor 2:2).

The cross is a complex symbol in Paul's thought-world, with a rich variety of meanings. The cross signifies the pivot-point of the ages, the place where Christ took "the curse of the law" upon himself (Gal 3:13) so that blessing might accrue to the Gentiles, the ultimate demonstration of God's righteousness (Rom 3:24–26) and God's love (Rom 5:8), the event in which God acted for the redemption of the world. It is the mystery that confutes human wisdom and shames human power (1 Cor 1:21–31).

For NT ethics, one aspect of Paul's interpretation of the cross is determinative for his understanding of the church's ethical responsibility. For Paul, Jesus' death on the cross is an act of loving, self-sacrificial obedience that becomes paradigmatic for the obedience of all who are in Christ.

Jesus' death on the cross is not an accident or an injustice that befell him; it is, rather, an act of sacrifice freely offered for the sake of God's people. In Galatians, Paul wishes them peace from "the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to set us free from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father" (Gal 1:3–4). The aorist participle dontos ("gave") refers specifically to Jesus' giving up his life, as is clear with the affirmation that "the Son of God…loved me and gave himself for me" (Gal 2:20) is explicated by surrounding references to crucifixion (Gal 2:19) and Christ's death (Gal 2:21).

The death of the Son of God on a cross is a unique event, unrepeatable, reconciling humanity to God. It is an event fraught with singular metaphysical significance, not merely a good example of how people ought to live and die. Nonetheless, it does become for Paul also an example, a paradigm for the life of faith. When Paul writes, "Bear one another's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ" (Gal 6:2), he's taken the pattern of Christ's self-giving (Gal 1:4, 2:20) and projected it into an imperative for the church to serve one another in love. Paul reads the cross as a metaphor for other actions (burden-bearing) that correspond analogically to the self-giving exemplified by Jesus' death. This metaphorical interpretation of the cross in Galatians 6:2 is exactly consonant with Paul's use of the same image elsewhere in his letters.

Christ's death as an example that should constrain the behavior of "the powerful," who might be inclined to despise those who are "weak in faith" (Rom 14:1). "We who are powerful ought to bear [same verb used in Gal 6:2] the weaknesses of the powerless, and not to please ourselves. Each of us must please our neighbor for the good, to the end of building up [the community]. For the Christ did not please himself, but, as it is written, "The insults of those who insult you have fallen upon me." …Welcome one another, therefore, as the Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God" (Rom 15:1–3, 7, RH).

Paul cites Ps 69:9b ("The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me") as an allusion to the passion of Jesus. Just as the crucified Messiah took upon himself suffering for the sake of others, so the "powerful" in the Roman church should welcome the others even if it means putting up with their "weaknesses," which is a matter of dietary scruples: "Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables" (Rom 14:2). It may seem almost ludicrous to draw an analogy between Jesus' giving up his life in crucifixion and the duty of the strong to give up eating certain foods for the sake of the weak, but the point of comparison is the voluntary surrender of prerogatives, privileges and rights for the sake of the other. Indeed, the rhetorical force of Paul's appeal is rooted precisely in the incongruity of the metaphor. "Do not let what you eat cause the ruin of one for whom Christ died" (Rom 14:15b). Jesus was willing to die for these people, and you aren't even willing to modify your diet?

The "Christ hymn" (Phil 2:6–11) is the centerpiece of the letter. It's where the paradigmatic significance of Jesus' death is most fully developed in Philippians. Writing from prison (Phil 1:12–14), Paul exhorts them to conduct themselves "in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ" in the face of opposition and suffering (Phil 1:27–30). Their suffering is "for Christ," and it is therefore a "privilege" (Phil 1:29). It's also "the same struggle" that Paul himself has experienced as an apostle. Thus, the opening of the letter establishes a solidarity in suffering between Paul and his readers.

Paul exhorts them to a life of koinonia (fellowship, sharing) and mutual support (ch. 2). This exhortation is grounded in the story of Christ, as sketched in a poetic passage that may have been an early Christian hymn already familiar to them.

If, therefore, there is any encouragement in Christ, if there is any consolation of love, if there is any koinonia of the Spirit, if there are any compassion and mercy, fulfill my joy: be of the same mind, having the same love, being common-souled and of one mind. Do nothing in accordance with envy or conceit, but in humility let each member of the community count all the others as having higher rank. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let this mind be in you that was also in Christ Jesus,

Who, though in the form of God

Did not count equality with God

As something to be exploited,

But he emptied himself,

Taking the form of a slave

And being found in human form.

He humbled himself

And became obedient all the way to death,

Death on a cross.

Therefore God also highly exalted him

And granted to him the name

That is above every name

So that in the name of Jesus

Every knee should bend

Of beings in heavenly places and on earth and under the earth

And every tongue should confess that

Jesus Christ is Lord

To the glory of God the Father.

Therefore, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed, not only in my presence but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for God is the one who is working in you both to will and to work for his good pleasure. (Phil 2:1–13, RH)

Christ's obedience to the point of death (Phil 2:8) is offered to them as a pattern for their own obedience (Phil 2:12). Just as he obediently suffered, so they should stand firm in the gospel, even when it requires them to suffer (Phil 1:27–30). Just as he humbled himself (Phil 2:8) and took the form of a slave, so they should in humility (Phil 2:3) become servants of the interests of others. Thus, Paul takes a hymn whose original purpose is doxological and employs it in service of moral exhortation. Christ becomes an "exemplar" who illuminates the way of obedience.

The Christ hymn as ethical paradigm has been out of favor with many NT exegetes in the latter half of the 20th century, as a result of influential studies by Ernst Käsemann and Ralph Martin. Käsemann emphasized the impossibility of imitating the cosmic action of a divine being's descent from heaven and ultimate exaltation above all creation; in his view, only a naive and sentimental "ethical idealism" could see a moral example here. A key to Käsemann's interpretation is his reading of Phil 2:6. The Greek says literally, "Let this mind be among you which also in Christ Jesus." Käsemann proposed that this should be understood to mean "Let this mind be among you which [you have] also in Christ Jesus." In other words, the sentence would point not to Jesus' action as an example but to the sphere of being "in Christ" that defines the context for the church's action. This interpretation of the passage, which was adopted in the RSV, finds felicitous phrasing in the NEB: "Let your bearing towards one another arise out of your life in Christ Jesus."

More recent interpretations of the passage, however, have observed that Käsemann's exegesis fails to account for the function of the hymn in its context and for the extensive correspondences developed in the letter between Christ, Paul, and the Philippians. Furthermore, Käsemann's rejection of a literal imitation of Christ's cosmic act depends on a rigid notion of one-to-one correspondence between example and imitator. If we adopt a more supple notion of metaphorical correspondence, the dissimilarities between Christ and his people are to be expected, because metaphor always posits a startling likeness between unlike entities. In Philippians, Paul offers a metaphorical reading of Christ's self-emptying and death; the power of the metaphor is precisely a function of its daring improbability, inviting the readers to see their own lives and vocations as corresponding to the gracious action of the Lord whom they acclaim in their worship. Consequently, the decision of the NRSV translation committee to return to the "exemplar" interpretation is to be welcomed: "Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus."

This correspondence to the pattern of Jesus is exemplified for the Philippians by Paul's account of his own story in Philippians 3. Once upon a time, he made it as a successful and respected religious person who knew all the answers. Unlike Martin Luther, Paul the Pharisee did not struggle with a terrified conscience; with respect to righteousness under the Law, he was "blameless" (Phil 3:4–7). But his encounter with Christ led him to empty himself of these claims and privileges. He left his former status behind: "I have suffered the loss of all things, and I consider them crap [garbage, rubbish, refuse, dung, filth, dung heap], in order that I might gain Christ and be found in him" (Phil 3:8). He surrendered his credibility within the social world of Jewish culture. He became a disreputable traveling preacher, writing this letter from a prison cell. It takes no great leap of imagination to discern the correspondence that Paul sees between his own career and the trajectory of Christ's obedience in the hymn of Philippians 2.

Furthermore, just as Christ was highly exalted by God, Paul hopes also to share ultimately in Christ's vindication: "…to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the koinonia of his sufferings, by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead" (Phil 3:10–11).

The koinonia of his sufferings: that is Paul's picture of the life in Christ. In community with others, believers find themselves conformed to the death of Christ. Thus, the cross becomes the ruling metaphor for Christian obedience, while the resurrection stands as the sign of hope that those who now suffer will finally be vindicated by God. As the wider context makes apparent, the suffering of which Paul speaks is not merely suffering for the sake of suffering; rather, it is suffering incurred for "the faith of the gospel" (Phil 1:27) and through service to others (Phil 2:1–4).

For all these reasons, Paul presumes to invites us to "become fellow-imitators of/with me and observe those who walk according to the pattern [typos] you have in us" (Phil. 3:17, RH). Paul poses himself as an eg. because his own life is conformed [however imperfectly (Phil 3:12)] to Christ: through imitating him, his churches will be joining him in imitating Christ. The point, implicit in the whole structure of the argument in Philippians, is made concisely explicit in 1 Thes 1:6: "You became imitators of us and of the Lord."

The twin themes of conformity to Christ's death and the imitation of Christ are foundational elements of Paul's vision of the moral life (Rom 6:1–14; 8:17, 29–30; 15:1–7; 1 Cor 10:23–11:1; 2 Cor 4:7–15; 12:9–10; Gal 2:19–20; 5:24; 6:14). Obedience to God is defined paradigmatically—in the metaphorical way we have discussed above—by Jesus' death on the cross.

The paradigmatic role of the cross is suggested also by the contrast in Rom 5:12–21 between Christ's obedience and the disobedience of Adam. Adam is the initiator and prime symbol of humanity's rebellion against the will of God; Jesus, through his radical obedience, reverses the consequences of Adam's sin and becomes the initiator of a new, obedient humanity: "Therefore just as one man's trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man's act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all. For just as by the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many will be made righteous" (Rom 5:18–19).

The obedience of Jesus, enacted in his death on the cross, is the prototype for "the obedience of faith" that Paul's preaching aims to inculcate (Rom 1:5). Indeed, "the one man's obedience" (Rom 5:19) should be understood as a virtual synonym for "the faith of Jesus Christ" (Rom 3:22), through which the righteousness of God is revealed.

This last point has been somewhat obscured by translations that render the expression pistis lsou Christou as "faith in Jesus Christ" rather than "faith of Jesus Christ." I have presented at length elsewhere the exegetical arguments for the latter interpretation. The meaning of "the faith of Jesus Christ" comes into focus when we perceive that Paul understands the cross as a pattern for the life of Christians.

When Paul declares in Romans 3:21–22 that the righteousness of God has been shown forth apart from the Law "through the faith of Jesus Christ," he's providing the answer to seemingly insuperable difficulties raised in 3:1–20. Does the unfaithfulness (apistia) of Israel nullify the faithfulness (pistis) of God toward his covenant people (Rom 3:3)? Is God unjust (adikos) to inflict wrath (Rom 3:5)? If all human beings are deeply implicated in sin, Jews and Gentiles alike, all in a state of apistia, despite Israel's advantage of having been given the Law, does that mean that God's redemptive intentions have been thwarted? In Rom 3:21–26 Paul offers a resounding no! to all of these troubling questions: God has vindicated his own righteousness (dikaiosyn) by putting forward Jesus, whose faithfulness in death atones for human sin/unfaithfulness and demonstrates God's continuing faithfulness to his covenant promises. When these verses are read together with Rom 5:15–19, a consistent picture emerges. Jesus' death is an act of faithfulness that simultaneously reconciles humanity to God and establishes a new reality in which we are set free from the power of sin, able to be conformed to the pattern of his life. That is what Paul means when he says "I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Gal 2:19–20, the translation given here follows the translation given in the NRSV footnote).

The faith(fulness) of Jesus Christ becomes the animating force in our lives. However mysterious such claims appear, they show that there is a deep connection in Paul's thought between Christology and ethics: to be in Christ is to have one's life conformed to the self-giving love enacted in the cross, "always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies" (2 Cor 4:10).

(C) REDEEMED COMMUNITY: THE BODY OF CHRIST Paul did not write general theological tractates; instead, he wrote letters to churches. Paul's strong thematic emphasis on community is partly to be explained by the original occasion and purpose of these letters: they were written to strengthen and support group identity in fledgling mission churches. The weight placed on community formation is not, however, merely a matter of practical necessity; Paul develops his account of the new community in Christ as a fundamental theological theme in his proclamation of the gospel.46

What is God doing in the world in the interval between resurrection and parousia? According to Paul, God is at work through the Spirit to create communities that prefigure and embody the reconciliation and healing of the world. The fruit of God's love is the formation of communities that confess, worship, and pray together in a way that glorifies God (see, e.g., Rom. 15:7–13).

Those who are baptized, Paul insists, have become "one in Christ Jesus," no longer divided by former distinctions of ethnicity, social status, or gender (Gal. 3:28). Because in Christ they are all "sons of God,"47 they all belong together in a single family, in which all are joint heirs.48 His passionate opposition to Cephas at Antioch (Gal. 2:11–21) sprang from his urgent conviction that Jews and Gentiles must be one in Christ, not separated by social barriers. The basic problem with the desire of Jewish Christians to maintain Torah observance was, according to Paul, not that it engendered "works righteousness" but rather that it fractured the unity of the community in Christ.49 John Barclay has well summarized the ethical issue at stake: "The problem here is not legalism (in the sense of earning merit before God) but cultural imperialism—regarding Jewish identity and Jewish customs as the essential tokens of membership in the people of God."50

It is important to realize, however, that Paul could equally be accused of promulgating a reverse "cultural imperialism." He has relativized and disqualified the distinctively Jewish signs of membership in God's covenant community ("works of Law" = circumcision, food laws, Sabbath observance), but he has at the same time inevitably set up new marks of participation in that community (confession of faith, baptism, experience of the Holy Spirit). Daniel Boyarin, in an important and provocative study of Paul, describes Paul's vision of community as "particularist universalism."51 It should not be forgotten that the community whose unity Paul passionately seeks is not the human community as a whole, nor is it a pluralistic community within the polis. It is, rather, always the particular community of the church. To be sure, Paul hopes for the ultimate triumph of God's grace over all human unbelief and disobedience (Rom. 11:32, Phil. 2:9–11). Until that eschatological consummation, however, Paul speaks only to the community of faith. He articulates no basis for a general ethic applicable to those outside the church.

Paul's concern for communal unity surfaces clearly in the concluding hortatory portion of the letter to the Galatians.52 Not only is his list of "works of the flesh" (5:19–21) heavily weighted toward offenses against the unity of the community ("enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy"), but the vice and virtue lists of 5:16–24 are also bracketed by clear directives against conflict in the church (5:13–15; 5:25–6:5). The conformity of the Galatians to Christ is to be expressed in their communal practice of loving, mutual service: "Through love become slaves to one another…. Bear one another's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ" (5:13c; 6:2).

Concern for unity of the community is also a fundamental theme of 1 Corinthians.53 The letter's introductory thanksgiving concludes with this affirmation: "God is faithful; by him you were called into the koinnia of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord" (1 Cor. 1:9). This call to the fellowship of Jesus in turn becomes the immediate ground of a plea for unity:

Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, through the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions [schismata] among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose. (1:10)

This exhortation is necessary because Paul has received word that there are indeed quarrels within the Corinthian community. (Some of the particular causes of these divisions are discussed during the course of the letter.) Paul regards such disunity in the church as contrary to the word of the cross (1:18–2:5) and as a sign of the Corinthians' immaturity in the faith.

And so, brothers and sisters, I could not speak to you as spiritual people, but rather as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food. Even now you are still not ready, for you are still of the flesh. For as long as there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not of the flesh, and behaving according to human inclinations? (3:1–4, emphasis mine)

Dissension in the church is deeply worrisome to Paul, for the aim of his apostolic labors has been to build community, not just to save souls. He has "laid a foundation" (3:10), and he is concerned that other contractors are botching the subsequent construction job. The quality of construction matters urgently, because the community is "God's building" (3:9). Indeed, Paul dares to assert more: the community is the place where God dwells. "Do you not know," he asks, "that you [plural] are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you [plural]?" (3:16). To read this last sentence as though it spoke of the Spirit dwelling in the body of the individual Christian would be to miss the force of Paul's audacious metaphor: the apostolically founded community takes the place of the Jerusalem Temple as the place where the glory of God resides.54 When the community suffers division, the temple of God is dishonored. But the presence of the Spirit in the community should produce unity rather than conflict.

These broad themes are brought into close focus by Paul's long discussion of speaking in tongues and other spiritual gifts in the community's worship in 1 Corinthians 12–14. This passage forcefully holds up the norm of communal edification as the standard by which spirituality is to be measured and guided.

Apparently some of the Corinthians were priding themselves on their rich endowments of spiritually inspired "speech and knowledge" (cf. 1:5). In the opening of the letter, Paul gives thanks, perhaps with a trace of irony, that the Corinthians "are not lacking in any spiritual gift" (1:7). He does not give a direct description of the problems surrounding spiritual manifestations in the Corinthian assembly, but his counsel suggests that some members of the community must have been claiming spiritual superiority and dominating the community's worship with virtuoso displays of glossolalia.

In responding to this situation, Paul develops an account of the church's interdependent common life:

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. (12:4–7)

The diversity of God's gifts is necessary "for the common good" of the community. Paul underscores his point by employing the analogy of the human body in which all the parts are necessary to healthy functioning of the organism: "If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it" (12:26). Then Paul introduces his foundational metaphor for the church's corporate life: "Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it" (12:27).

Common participation in the body of Christ becomes the basis for Paul's particular directions concerning the regulation of the community's worship. Speaking in tongues is a spiritual experience, a fine thing in itself, says Paul (14:2, 5a), but it does not edify the community. All actions, however ostensibly spiritual, must meet the criterion of constructive impact on the church community. Consequently, intelligible prophecy, which offers "upbuilding and encouragement and consolation" for the community (14:3), is to be more highly valued and sought: "Those who speak in a tongue build up themselves, but those who prophesy build up the church" (14:4). The noun oikodom ("building up, edification") and the cognate verb oikodomein occur repeatedly in this chapter. The task of community-building, which was originally Paul's apostolic work, is transferred to the community itself; thus, the purpose of corporate worship becomes community formation. It is crucial, however, that the work of community-building be a shared, participatory enterprise; the worship assembly is not to be monopolized by any one member. Instead,

When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up [oikodom]. (14:26. emphasis mine)

Thus, the gathered community's worship reflects and symbolizes the interdependence of the body of Christ.

Sandwiched between chapters 12 and 14 is Paul's great panegyric on love. Whether this is an independent piece of tradition inserted here by Paul or whether it was composed for the occasion at hand, the placement of this discourse shows that Paul interprets love in terms of the ecclesial context elaborated in the surrounding chapters. Love, rightly understood, should constrain those superspiritual Corinthians whose behavior threatens the good of the community. Love binds the body of Christ together in mutual suffering and rejoicing; love seeks the upbuilding of the whole community rather than private advantage. It is striking that Paul places this discourse on love in the midst of his response to the tongue-speaking controversy rather than, say, in his discussion of marriage in 1 Corinthians 7. Why so? For Paul, love has its primary locus in the common life of the church.

One final passage will serve to illustrate the fundamental emphasis on community in Paul's thought. Having completed the long theological exposition of Romans 1:16–11:36, in which he defends the integrity of God's promises to Israel and articulates the mystery of God's grace, Paul turns to explicit exhortation in Romans 12.

I appeal to you, therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies [smata (plural)] as a living sacrifice [thysian (singular)], holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. (ROM. 12:1–2, AA)

The metaphor of "living sacrifice" describes the vocation of the community: the addressees of the letter are called to present their bodies together as a single collective sacrifice of obedience to God. This act of rightful worship must be performed by the community as a whole. Modern readers accustomed to interpreting biblical texts as discourse addressing the private individual will find this image of a corporate sacrifice a strange picture, but it is fundamental to Paul's understanding of his mission. For instance, in Romans 15:14–19, he invokes the metaphor of himself as a priest presenting "the offering of the Gentiles" to God; this "offering" (prosphora) is then explicated as "the obedience of the Gentiles" (v. 18). In this passage, Paul is the metaphorical "priest" presenting the offering, whereas in Romans 12:1–2 the community performs the act of self-presentation. In both cases, however, the content of the sacrifice is the community's corporate obedience. That Paul has the community explicitly in mind in Romans 12 is confirmed by the fact that he immediately reintroduces the "one body in Christ" metaphor in verses 4–8, again emphasizing, as in 1 Corinthians 12, the complementarity of different gifts for the common good.

Paul's thought moves in Romans 12:2 from the community's sacrificial self-surrender to the community's transformation. Having offered themselves to God, community members are to find themselves transformed, set free from the confining power of this age. Their mind (nous, again singular) is to be made new by God so that they can rightly discern God's will. The meaning of this vision is substantially the same as the picture of the church in 2 Corinthians 5:14–21, already discussed above, in which the church, as new creation in Christ, is said to "become the righteousness of God." In 2 Corinthians 5, the new creation is expressed as a present reality, whereas in Romans 12, the readers are exhorted to present themselves and be transformed. This is one more instance of the coincidence of indicative and imperative in Paul's thought; present reality and future hope overlap at the turn of the ages. The constant factor is that he imagines God's eschatological salvation in corporate terms: God transforms and saves a people, not atomized individuals. Consequently, the faithful find their identity and vocation in the world as the body of Christ.

These three closely linked themes, then, frame Paul's ethical thought:

new creation in collision with the present age,
the cross as paradigm for action, and
the community as the locus of God's saving power.

Within this framework, let us turn to examine the processes of Paul's moral reasoning.

Richard B. Hays. The Moral Vision of the N.T. 1996.

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