Paul as Pastor 0567677915, 9780567677914

Citation preview

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PAUL AS PASTOR

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PAUL AS PASTOR

Edited by

Brian S. Rosner, Andrew S. Malone and Trevor J. Burke

T&T CLARK Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA BLOOMSBURY, T&T CLARK and the T&T Clark logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published 2018 Paperback edition first published in 2019 Copyright © Brian S. Rosner, Andrew S. Malone and Trevor J. Burke, 2018 Brian S. Rosner, Andrew S. Malone and Trevor J. Burke have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Editors of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Rosner, Brian S., editor. Title: Paul as pastor / edited by Brian S. Rosner, Andrew S. Malone, Trevor J. Burke. Description: New York : Bloomsbury Academic T&T Clark, 2017. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017032156 (print) | LCCN 2017040819 (ebook) | ISBN 9780567677945 (epub) | ISBN 9780567677921 (epdf) | ISBN 9780567677914 (hb : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Pastoral care–Biblical teaching. | Pastoral theology–Biblical teaching. | Bible. Epistles of Paul–Criticism, interpretation, etc. | Bible. Acts–Criticism, interpretation, etc. | Paul, the Apostle, Saint. Classification: LCC BS2655.P3 (ebook) | LCC BS2655.P3 P38 2017 (print) | DDC 225.9/2–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017032156 ISBN: HB: 978-0-5676-7791-4 PB: 978-0-5676-8883-5 ePDF: 978-0-5676-7792-1 ePub: 978-0-5676-7794-5 Typeset by Newgen KnowledgeWorks Pvt. Ltd., Chennai, India To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

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CONTENTS List of Contributors Abbreviations Preface 1. THE HOUSEHOLD SETTING OF PAUL’S PASTORAL PRACTICE AND ITS BIBLICAL AND JEWISH ROOTS Brian S. Rosner 2. PAUL AS PASTOR IN ACTS: MODELLING AND TEACHING PERSEVERANCE IN THE FAITH Alan J. Thompson

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3. PAUL AS PASTOR IN ROMANS: THEOLOGICAL FOUNDATIONS Colin G. Kruse

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4. PAUL’S PASTORAL SENSITIVITY IN 1 CORINTHIANS Matthew R. Malcolm

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5. PAUL AS PASTOR IN 2 CORINTHIANS Paul Barnett

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6. PASTORING WITH A BIG STICK: PAUL AS PASTOR IN GALATIANS Michael F. Bird and John Anthony Dunne

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7. PAUL AND PASTORS IN EPHESIANS: THE PASTOR AS TEACHER Peter C. Orr

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8. PAUL AND PASTORS IN PHILIPPIANS: WHEN STAFF TEAMS DISAGREE Sarah Harris 9. PAUL AS PASTOR IN COLOSSIANS? Andrew S. Malone 10. MOTHER, FATHER, INFANT, ORPHAN, BROTHER: PAUL’S VARIEGATED PASTORAL STRATEGY TOWARDS HIS THESSALONIAN CHURCH FAMILY Trevor J. Burke

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11. PAUL AS WORKING PASTOR: EXPOSING AN OPEN ETHICAL SECRET Robert W. Yarbrough

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12. THE PASTORAL OFFICES IN THE PASTORAL EPISTLES AND THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND’S FIRST ORDINAL Tim Patrick

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13. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO ON PAUL AS PASTOR Andrew M. Bain

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14. ‘HE FOLLOWED PAUL’: WHITEFIELD’S HEROIC, APOSTOLIC AND PROPHETIC VOICE Rhys S. Bezzant

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Author Index Scripture Index

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CONTRIBUTORS Andrew M. Bain is vice principal at Queensland Theological College (Brisbane, Australia), where he teaches church history. Paul Barnett is a lecturer emeritus at Moore College and an honorary associate in ancient history at Macquarie University (Sydney, Australia). Rhys S. Bezzant is lecturer in Christian thought at Ridley College (Melbourne, Australia), where he directs the Jonathan Edwards Center for Australia and is dean of Missional Leadership. Michael F. Bird teaches Theology and New Testament at Ridley College (Melbourne, Australia). Trevor J. Burke tutors New Testament in the Cambridge Theological Federation (Cambridge, United Kingdom). John Anthony Dunne is assistant professor of New Testament at Bethel Seminary (St Paul, United States). Sarah Harris teaches New Testament at Carey Baptist College (Auckland, New Zealand). Colin G. Kruse is senior lecturer in New Testament at Melbourne School of Theology (Australia). Matthew R. Malcolm is dean of the Faculty of Liberal Arts at Universitas Pelita Harapan (Tangerang, Indonesia). Andrew S. Malone teaches biblical studies at Ridley College (Melbourne, Australia) and is dean of Ridley Online. Peter C. Orr is lecturer in New Testament at Moore College (Sydney, Australia). Tim Patrick is principal of the Bible College of South Australia (Adelaide), where he teaches theology and practical ministry.

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Contributors

Brian S. Rosner is principal of Ridley College (Melbourne, Australia), where he teaches New Testament. Alan J. Thompson is lecturer in New Testament at Sydney Missionary and Bible College (Sydney, Australia). Robert W. Yarbrough is professor of New Testament at Covenant Theological Seminary (St Louis, United States).

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ABBREVIATIONS AB ACCS AGJU ANE ANTC ATR AYB BBR BDAG

BECNT BETL BHGNT BSac BST CBQ CGTC CH ChrCent COQG CSB CTJ CurTM DPL ECL EGGNT ESV ETL EvQ ExpTim FRLANT HBT IBC ICC JBL JETS JSNT JSNTSup JTS

Anchor Bible Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums Ancient Near East(ern) Abingdon New Testament Commentaries Australasian Theological Review Anchor Yale Bible Bulletin for Biblical Research Walter Bauer, Frederick W. Danker, William F. Arndt and F. Wilbur Gingrich, Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 3rd ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium Baylor Handbook on the Greek New Testament Bibliotheca Sacra The Bible Speaks Today Catholic Biblical Quarterly Cambridge Greek Testament Commentary Church History Christian Century Christian Origins and the Question of God Christian Standard Bible Calvin Theological Journal Currents in Theology and Mission Dictionary of Paul and His Letters. Ed. Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1993. Early Christianity and Its Literature Exegetical Guide to the Greek New Testament English Standard Version Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses Evangelical Quarterly Expository Times Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Horizons in Biblical Theology Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching International Critical Commentary Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Journal for the Study of the New Testament Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series Journal of Theological Studies

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x KEK KJV LCL LNTS LXX NA28 NAC NASB NCB NCCS NET NICNT NIGTC NIV NIVAC NovT NovTSup NPNF1 NRSV NSBT NT NTL NTR NTS OBT PNTC RSV SANT SBL SHBC SNTS SNTSMS SNTW SP TDNT

Them TNTC TynBul WBC WBT WGRWSup WJE WUNT ZECNT

Abbreviations Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament King James Version Loeb Classical Library The Library of New Testament Studies Septuagint Novum Testamentum Graece, Nestle-Aland, 28th ed. New American Commentary New American Standard Bible New Century Bible New Covenant Commentary Series New English Translation New International Commentary on the New Testament New International Greek Testament Commentary New International Version NIV Application Commentary Novum Testamentum Supplements to Novum Testamentum Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Series 1 New Revised Standard Version New Studies in Biblical Theology New Testament New Testament Library New Theology Review New Testament Studies Overtures to Biblical Theology Pillar New Testament Commentary Revised Standard Version Studien zum Alten und Neuen Testaments Society of Biblical Literature Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary Society for New Testament Studies Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series Studies of the New Testament and Its World Sacra Pagina Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Ed. Gerhard Kittel and Gerhard Friedrich. Trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley. 10 vols. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964–1976. Themelios Tyndale New Testament Commentaries Tyndale Bulletin Word Biblical Commentary Word Biblical Themes Writings from the Greco-Roman World Supplement Series The Works of Jonathan Edwards. 26 vols. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957–2008. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament

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PREFACE According to James Dunn, ‘Paul never spoke other than as a pastor.’1 If Dunn is right, and we think he is, and given the fact that a large proportion of those undertaking a serious study of Paul’s letters are training for pastoral ministry, then the subject of this book should be of wide interest. Certainly, its relative neglect in Pauline studies is lamentable. In one sense Paul as Pastor is a companion volume to Paul as Missionary, also published by T&T Clark (2011) and edited by two of the current volume’s editors. However, whereas Paul as Missionary was undertaken by scholars in various countries, Paul as Pastor began its life at a theology conference at Ridley College in Melbourne, Australia, in August 2014. At that conference, colleagues from across Australia, along with two from overseas, gathered to consider the theme from exegetical, theological and historical angles. The present volume represents the edited proceedings along with an additional chapter to complete the coverage of Paul’s letters. It was a pleasing sign of the strength and collegiality of New Testament scholarship in Australia that colleagues from six colleges in the Australian College of Theology consortium (Ridley College, Melbourne School of Theology, Sydney Missionary and Bible College, Bible College of South Australia, Queensland Theological College and Trinity Theological College), as well as two from Moore College, made up the bulk of the conference speaking program and the subsequent volume. Paul as Pastor is intended as an introduction and a collection of initial soundings in the traditional Pauline corpus. It closes with three historical case studies of the theme to demonstrate potential for further studies in the history of interpretation. There are good reasons to focus on Paul’s work as a pastor. If Paul is an apostle, it is with the purpose of bringing Gentiles into full allegiance and obedience to God (Rom. 15.19). If Paul is a missionary, his goal is not only to save the lost (1 Cor. 9.22) but to present every person mature in Christ (Col. 1.28). If Paul is a theologian, his vision of the divine-human relationship is never without practical and pastoral implications. Paul as Pastor has been written in the hope that it will help to revive interest in the academic study of Paul’s pastoral practice to the benefit and encouragement of pastors today and those who teach them. Brian S. Rosner Andrew S. Malone Trevor J. Burke

1 James D. G. Dunn, The Theology of the Apostle Paul (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998), 626.

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Chapter 1 T H E H OU SE HOL D S E T T I N G O F P AU L’ S P A ST O R A L P R AC T IC E A N D I T S B I B L IC A L A N D J EW I SH   R O O T S Brian S. Rosner

1. Paul as pastor A critical step in the study of Paul and his letters concerns how we understand his main role or roles. Who or what Paul was will determine in large measure how we understand what he did. And how we conceive of Paul will inevitably have an impact on the sorts of questions we ask when reading his letters. So who was Paul and what was he up to? To say that Paul was an apostle is of course accurate, but being such a general description, it opens up rather than settles the question of his main purposes and activities. Being an apostle meant that Paul was seized and sent by Jesus Christ, but for what? And how would he accomplish his commission? Was Paul primarily a missionary tasked to convert the nations, a prophet announcing God’s judgement and mercy or a theologian wrestling with the fallout of a crucified and risen Christ? Our answer to this question will produce very different understandings of his agenda and purposes. Major lines of enquiry into Paul’s letters are often driven by different construals of his vocation and commitments. Paul’s identity and his activity are obviously related. Was Paul a pastor? The first impressions are not encouraging. The word ‘pastor’ (ποιμήν) is found in Eph. 4.11, but Paul never calls himself a pastor. Whereas the New Testament uses the verb ‘to pastor’ (ποιμαίνω, e.g. 1 Pet. 5.2), Paul only uses the word in its literal sense: ‘Who tends/pastors a flock and does not get any of its milk?’ (1 Cor. 9.7). There are in fact relatively few studies of Paul as pastor, and nothing like a sustained scholarly discussion has ever occurred. Timothy Laniak’s study of pastoral traditions in the Bible looks specifically at shepherd imagery. For the New Testament, Laniak has chapters covering the Gospels, 1 Peter and Revelation. But there is no chapter on Paul.1

1 Timothy S. Laniak, Shepherds After My Own Heart: Pastoral Traditions and Leadership in the Bible, NSBT 15 (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2006).

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The few book-length treatments on various aspects of Paul’s pastoral practice are limited to just a few of his letters, most commonly 1 Thessalonians and 2 Corinthians. Six in English can be noted: ● ●

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W. E. Chadwick, The Pastoral Teaching of St. Paul (T&T Clark, 1907) Abraham J. Malherbe, Paul and the Thessalonians: The Philosophic Tradition of Pastoral Care (Fortress, 1987) Ernest Best, Paul and His Converts (T&T Clark, 1988) Trevor J. Burke, Family Matters: A Socio-Historical Study of Kinship Metaphors in 1 Thessalonians (T&T Clark International, 2003) James W. Thompson, Pastoral Ministry according to Paul: A Biblical Vision (Baker, 2006) Paul Barnett, Paul: A Pastor’s Heart in Second Corinthians (Aquila, 2012)2

German New Testament scholarship likewise has paid little attention to the subject.3 In 1989 Andrew Lincoln wrote: ‘In the light of the abundance of books on Paul and his letters, it is surprising to discover that very few studies have been devoted to Paul’s role as a pastor.’4 Not much has changed since then. However, notwithstanding Paul’s failure to identify himself as a pastor and scholarly neglect, there are in fact good reasons to focus on his work as a pastor. If Paul is an apostle, it is with the purpose of bringing Gentiles into full allegiance and obedience to God (Rom. 15.19). If Paul is a missionary, his goal is not only to save the lost (1 Cor. 9.22) but to present every person mature in Christ (Col. 1.28). If Paul is a theologian, his vision of the divine-human relationship is never without practical and pastoral implications. Paul’s desire to teach ‘how one ought to walk and please God’ (1 Thess. 4.1), not just what to believe, was central to all of his activities and played a major role in each of his letters. His constant concern was to exhort the churches to conduct their common life ‘in a manner worthy of the gospel’ (Phil. 1.27). He spoke of ‘the daily pressure upon me of my anxiety for all the churches’ (2 Cor. 11.28). As James Dunn puts it, ‘Paul never spoke other than as a pastor.’5 To study the main themes of the Pauline corpus only with reference to matters of belief – such as justification, the place of Israel in God’s purposes, Christology and eschatology – is to ignore the original settings and purpose of his correspondence.

2 Cf. also Anthony Arthur Myrick, ‘Paul’s Pastoral Practice against Its Jewish Background’ (University of Aberdeen, 2000), whose work provided impetus for this chapter’s search for a biblical and Jewish milieu for Paul’s kinship metaphors. 3 Two exceptions are C. F.  G. Heinrici, Paulus als Seelsorger, Biblische Zeit und Streitfrage 6/1 (Berlin: Runge, 1910); Roland Gebauer, Paulus als Seelsorger, Calwer theologische Monographien 18 (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1997). 4 Andrew T. Lincoln, review of Paul and His Converts by Ernest Best, JTS 40 (1989): 577. 5 James D.  G. Dunn, The Theology of the Apostle Paul (Edinburgh:  T&T Clark, 1998), 626.

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Paul’s treatment of the great themes of theology is never in abstraction but always with an eye on the practical implications of sound teaching for right conduct. And usually in Paul’s mind it was false doctrine or a misunderstanding of doctrine that had led to false practice in the first place. Without exception, Paul’s letters were motivated by pastoral concerns. All thirteen letters traditionally attributed to Paul bear this out. Galatians, 1 and 2 Corinthians and Romans were written in order to heal potential or real divisions in the churches; 1 and 2 Thessalonians clarify matters of conduct in anticipation of Christ’s return. Ephesians and Colossians endeavour to foster a lifestyle consistent with salvation in Christ. Philippians discusses the financial support of ministry and seeks to calm quarrels in the church. Philemon considers a case of slavery and its implications for Christian fellowship. And the Pastoral Epistles deal with false teaching by commending not only sound doctrine but also godliness and church order. All of these matters fall under the larger theme of pastoral theology and practice, broadly defined. The aims of this volume are reasonably modest. We hope to consider the subject of Paul as pastor from exegetical, theological and historical angles in order to revive interest in the topic academically and to encourage pastors today and those who teach them.6 By Paul as pastor we do not mean only Paul as one who cares for individuals, a sense often associated with the words ‘pastor’ and ‘pastoral’. After all, ‘pastor’ and ‘teacher’ are paired in Eph. 4.11, underscoring their close association – the two nouns brought together with just one definite article in Greek. And Paul’s care for Christians, while not ignoring the individual, is just as much focused on the nurturing of Christian communities.

2. Paul’s family metaphors This chapter aims to offer a general introduction to the subject of Paul as pastor, by focusing attention on the household setting of Paul’s pastoral practice. As Paul Trebilco observes, ‘One of the key ways in which the early communities of Christians perceived themselves was as a family.’7 What can we learn about Paul the pastor from his practice of nurturing households of the family of God? The household setting of Paul’s churches can be seen from the fact that he addresses Christians as ‘brothers and sisters’ (ἀδελφοί) in every one of the letters

6 A large proportion of NT scholars, namely those teaching in seminaries and theological colleges, are engaged in training pastors of one sort or another. 7 Paul Trebilco, ‘Early Christian Communities in the Greco-Roman City: Perspectives on Urban Ministry in the New Testament’, Ex Auditu 29 (2013): 37; cf. James W. Thompson, ‘Paul as Missionary Pastor’, in Paul as Missionary, ed. Trevor J. Burke and Brian S. Rosner, LNTS 420 (London: T&T Clark, 2011), 27: ‘The most pervasive image for the community is that of the family; they are the household of God (Gal. 6.10).’

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in the traditional Pauline corpus, bar one (viz. Titus). He also calls for ‘family affection’ (φιλαδελφία, Rom. 12.9; 1 Thess. 4.9). The numerous ‘one another’ commands – forgive one another, bear with one another and so on – are also set in this context. Indeed, many of his appeals are addressed explicitly to brothers and sisters. But Paul’s use of kinship metaphors does not stop with sibling language. Paul sees himself in relation to the churches he founded not only as brother, but also as father and mother. And even though Paul never calls himself a pastor, Paul as father, mother and brother goes a long way to revealing his pastoral concerns.8 Paul compares himself to a father nine times, twice in reference to congregations and seven times with individuals in mind, namely Timothy, Titus and Onesimus: For though you might have ten thousand guardians in Christ, you do not have many fathers (πατέρας). Indeed, in Christ Jesus I became your father9 through the gospel. (1 Cor. 4.15) As you know, we dealt with each one of you like a father (πατήρ) with his children. (1 Thess. 2.11) But Timothy’s worth you know, how like a son with a father he has served with me in the work of the gospel. (Phil. 2.22) To Timothy, my true son in the faith. (1 Tim. 1.2) Timothy, my son, I give you instruction. (1 Tim. 1.18) To Timothy, my dear son. (2 Tim. 1.2) You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. (2 Tim. 2.1) To Titus, my loyal child (τέκνον) in the faith we share: Grace and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior. (Tit. 1.4)10 I am appealing to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I  have become (γεννάω) during my imprisonment. (Phlm. 10)

More implicitly, without using the word ‘mother’, Paul compares himself to a mother three times, each time with reference to groups of converts: And so, brothers and sisters, I could not speak to you as spiritual people, but rather as people of the flesh, as infants (νήπιοι) in Christ. I fed you with milk (γάλα), not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food. (1 Cor. 3.1–2)

8 Other self-descriptions of Paul also reveal his pastoral role, for example Paul as priest (Rom. 15.16), father of the bride (2 Cor. 11.3) and master builder (1 Cor. 3.10). 9 BDAG 193 (γεννάω §1): ‘become the parent of ’. 10 While the language of being Paul’s child could evoke him as father or mother, the use of being his child is linked to a comparison of Paul as father in Phlm. 10, loyalty to Paul in Philippians is compared to a child-father relationship and Paul seems to save mother imagery for his relationship to congregations rather than individuals.

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My little children (τέκνα), for whom I am again in the pain of childbirth11 until Christ is formed in you. (Gal. 4.19) But we were gentle among you, like a nurse tenderly caring for her own children. (1 Thess. 2.7b)

These twelve texts show the impressive breadth of Paul’s use of parental imagery in his letters. He uses a wide range of related terms, including ‘father’, ‘begetting’, ‘child’, ‘infant’ and ‘milk’, which he applies to both individuals and groups. Before exploring these kinship metaphors further, we need to face a potential objection concerning the appropriateness of using them to discern Paul’s pastoral identity and practice. Are Paul’s family metaphors a solid basis for constructing his theology? After all, are they not merely figures of speech, more decoration for Paul’s teaching rather than the substance? To put the matter figuratively, compared with direct and propositional discourse, are not Paul’s kinship metaphors more ‘icing’ than ‘cake’? Would it not be better to move to more literal forms of discourse to uncover Paul’s pastoral aims? Many readers of Paul believe in the supposed subjectivity and imprecision of figurative language and often play down metaphors when studying his letters. In opposition to such concerns, in my view metaphors, properly understood, contain not less but rather more meaning than literal language. The metaphor ‘Herod is a fox’ (Lk. 13.32) is more of an insult to Herod than calling him a cunning tyrant. And the comparison of greed with idolatry (Col. 3.5; cf. Eph. 5.5) has more meaning than simply saying that trusting and loving wealth inordinately is a potent rival to our devotion to God.12 How, then, are Paul’s household metaphors to be understood? Janet Martin Soskice contends that the many theories of how metaphor works fall into three basic groups: (1) those that regard metaphor as a decorative way of saying what could be said literally; (2) those that stress the affective impact a metaphor exerts, the feelings it evokes; and (3) those that consider metaphor to be a unique cognitive vehicle enabling one to say something that can be said in no other way.13 The first group of theories is clearly mistaken in ignoring the emotive responses that metaphors arouse. Simply to ‘translate’ a metaphor into straightforward language is to miss the metaphor’s dynamism.14 Nonetheless, the second group, in denying that a metaphor makes any increment to meaning, goes too far in the other 11 BDAG 1102 (ὠδίνω): ‘to experience pains associated with giving birth’. 12 See Brian S. Rosner, Greed as Idolatry: The Origin and Meaning of a Pauline Metaphor (Grand Rapids, Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2007). 13 Janet Martin Soskice, Metaphor and Religious Language (Oxford:  Clarendon, 1985), 24ff. 14 Scholarly literature about metaphors in German often speaks of the Unübersetzbarkeit, the untranslatability of metaphors into non-metaphorical language; cf., for example, Günter Röhser, Metaphorik und Personifikation der Sünde, WUNT 2/25 (Tübingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1987), 21–23.

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direction, for if thoughts and feelings can be expressed in words, then at least part of a metaphor’s meaning can be expressed literally, even if by doing so one risks blunting the affective impact. An adequate account of metaphor must consider both cognitive meaning and emotive effect. My own functional definition has three parts: a metaphor is a form of communication that (1) uses a familiar image to say something (2) memorably and (3)  with feeling. Metaphors communicate more meaning than propositional or literal language in that, rightly understood, they both inform and move the hearer. And by appealing to something that is concrete and known, like all figurative language, a good metaphor is easily recalled and sticks in the mind. The trick with interpretation is to determine which feelings the metaphor evokes, its affective impact, as well as what we learn from the metaphor, that is, its cognitive meaning.15 Take ‘God is a rock’ as an example, a biblical metaphor with a long history. God and rocks is an incongruous conjunction of two things and their respective semantic fields that upon reflection turn out to be alike in certain ways. What is a comparison of God to a rock saying? The difficulty in interpreting a metaphor is working out which features of each semantic field are being drawn upon in the comparison. As Steven Kraftchick puts it, ‘metaphor is not an isomorphic mapping of all relationships within one field to another, but a highlighting of some and suppression of others’.16 Which associations are being highlighted and which are being suppressed? In other words, what is the metaphor’s cognitive meaning? And how is God being compared to a rock meant to make us feel? What is its affective impact? The use of this metaphor in the psalms is revealing: The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. (Ps. 18.2; cf. 62.2) The point of comparing God to a rock is to highlight God’s strength and protection. In line with this understanding, the Aramaic Targums of the Pentateuch take God as a rock in Deut. 32 to refer to his strength and paraphrase the verses in

15 Cf. Richard B. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament (San Francisco:  HarperSanFrancisco, 1996), 300:  ‘Metaphors are incongruous conjunctions of two images – or two semantic fields – that turn out, upon reflection, to be like one another in ways not ordinarily recognized. They shock us into thought by positing unexpected analogies.’ Similarly, N. T. Wright, The New Testament and the People of God, COQG 1 (Philadelphia:  Fortress, 1992), 40:  ‘Metaphor consists in bringing two sets of ideas close together, close enough for a spark to jump . . . so that the spark, in jumping, illuminates for a moment the whole area around, changing perceptions as it does so.’ 16 Steven J. Kraftchick, ‘A Necessary Detour: Paul’s Metaphorical Understanding of the Philippian Hymn’, HBT 15 (1993): 23.

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question as describing God as ‘the Strong One’.17 Given that everyone has some experience of rocks, comparing God to a rock is a memorable comparison. And it carries with it feelings of security and safety that would be lacking if it were reduced to a literal statement about God. There are two things to consider for the accurate interpretation of a metaphor. The first is context – sometimes clues are given in the literary context of a metaphor that help explain its meaning. The second is milieu – we need to determine the cultural setting of the image in question to ascertain its regular associations. The milieu of biblical metaphors can be ascertained both from extra-biblical texts and from the Bible itself. How, then, are we to understand Paul’s household setting metaphors? How are fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters thought of in Paul’s setting? What are their chief associations? Unfortunately, the setting for Paul’s comparison of himself as father, mother and brother – his family metaphors – is disputed. Three main sources for Paul’s family metaphors suggest themselves: Greco-Roman philosophy, Jesus, and the Old Testament and ancient Judaism. We may consider them in turn. Abraham Malherbe has put the case thus: ‘When he [Paul] and others discuss his ministry, it is extraordinary to what degree the categories and language are derived from the Greeks. The same is also true when Paul is viewed as pastor.’18 In particular, Malherbe believes that Paul’s parental-type care of his churches can be understood against a Greco-Roman background. Malherbe compares the ‘father’ and ‘mother’ roles of Paul with those adopted by the moral philosophers.19 He concludes: It should now be evident that Paul’s method of pastoral care had distinct similarities to the ‘pastoral care’ of contemporary moral philosophers. The way Paul describes his activity, particularly his use of the images of nurse and father, makes it clear that he consciously availed himself of their tradition of care.20

There is no doubt that the pagan world in which Paul ministered was familiar with parental imagery. For example, Malherbe reports that the philosopher Epicurus was addressed as ‘father’ and ‘mother’ by his community of disciples.21 However,

17 See Brian S. Rosner, ‘“Stronger than He?”:  The Strength of 1 Corinthians 10:22b’, TynBul 43 (1992): 171–79. 18 Abraham J. Malherbe, ‘Paul: Hellenistic Philosopher or Christian Pastor?’, ATR 68 (1986): 13. 19 Cf. Abraham J. Malherbe, ‘Gentle as a Nurse: the Cynic Background to 1 Thess. ii’, NovT 12 (1970): 203–17; Malherbe, Paul and the Thessalonians: The Philosophic Tradition of Pastoral Care (Mifflintown: Sigler, 2000). 20 Malherbe, Paul and the Thessalonians, 58. 21 Malherbe, ‘Paul:  Hellenistic Philosopher’, 8–11; Malherbe, Paul and the Thessalonians, 40.

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does it follow that some degree of overlap, some ‘distinct similarities’, means that Paul ‘consciously availed himself ’ of that tradition? A second possible origin for Paul’s family metaphors for his relationship with believers is Jesus himself. With respect to Paul’s use of ‘brother and sister’ for fellow believers, Robert Banks observes: Paul was not the first to talk in this manner. It is Jesus who stands behind Paul’s usage here: the one who looked at those sitting around him and said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers’ (Mk 3.34–35).22

Commenting on Mk 3.34–35, Paul Trebilco contends, ‘The widespread metaphorical usage of brothers and sisters in the NT has its roots in Jesus’ teaching that his followers were a new family and in Jesus’ establishment of a kinship model of community.’23 Also telling is Rom. 8.29, where Paul insists that God predestines believers in Christ to ‘be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters’.24 A third possible source and setting for Paul’s family metaphors is the Old Testament (or the Scriptures, as he called them) and its interpretation in ancient Judaism. Household groups in the Old Testament were critical centres for the life and care for God’s people. Johannes Pedersen observes, ‘Whereas the tribe and the city have been of varying importance to the lives of the Israelites, the household everywhere preserved its importance as the center of life, because it represents kinship in its most intimate sense. The laws and manner of thinking of the Israelites are throughout stamped by it.’25 He argues that the ‘father’s house’ was the context of community (Gen. 12.1; 7.1, 13), protection and safety (Gen. 12.1; 24.7; 20.13), unity (1 Sam. 17.25; 9.20; 22.1; 2 Sam. 3.10) and blessing (Gen. 48.3–4, 15) for Israel.26 In Deut. 6.6–9, Moses tells the Israelites to nurture faith in their own households by teaching Scripture to their children: ‘And these words, all that I command you this day, shall be in your heart and in your soul. And you will teach them to your children, and you will speak of them sitting in the house, and walking by the way and lying down and rising up.’ And in the wisdom tradition, the sages taught in their own homes:  ‘He whose ear listens to the life-giving reproof will lodge among the sages’ (Prov. 15.31).

22 Robert J. Banks, Paul’s Idea of Community:  The Early House Churches in Their Historical Setting (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 56. 23 Trebilco, ‘Early Christian Communities’, 40. 24 Ibid.: ‘Romans 8:29 is a foundational statement for Paul’s use of brothers and sisters of Christians.’ 25 Johannes Pedersen, Israel:  Its Life and Culture (London:  Oxford, 1926), 30–60; cf. Paul S. Minear, Images of the Church in the New Testament (Philadelphia:  Westminster, 1960), 165–72; John H. Elliot, A Home for the Homeless (Philadelphia:  Fortress, 1981), 182–200. 26 Pedersen, Israel, 51–52, 199–200, 269–70.

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Similarly, the author of Sirach explicitly describes his place of influence as a private household:  ‘Draw near to me, you who are untaught, and lodge in my household of instruction’ (Sir. 51:23).27 The rabbis used homes and families for teaching wisdom:  ‘Let your home be a gathering place for sages. And wallow in the dust of their feet. And drink in their words with gusto’ (m. ‘Abot. 1:4).28 And the Qumran leaders depicted their community not only as temple,29 but also metaphorically as a household,30 stressing their relationships to the community as ‘fathers’ (CD 13:9; 1QH 7:20) who were responsible for nurturing their ‘sons’ (1QH 7:7; 1QS 3:13, 20, 22, 25).31 Indeed, Jews regularly addressed each other as siblings in Paul’s day, as seen, for example, in 1 and 2 Maccabees and many Rabbinic texts. Which background best explains Paul’s usage of household metaphors? Is pagan philosophy, Paul’s Jewish inheritance or the Jesus tradition most likely? Ernest Best warns that ‘it is impossible to determine from where Paul derived the image [of parenthood] in relation to himself ’.32 In my view, the overlap of Paul’s family imagery in the context of his pastoral practice with Greco-Roman philosophy does not prove his dependence on that tradition; Malherbe overstates the connection. What it does show is that the imagery was perfectly understandable by the Gentiles to whom Paul ministered. However, we do not need to choose between Jesus and the Jewish Scriptures as if they were rival sources for Paul. Jesus, like Paul, was also a Jew. The teaching of Jesus was doubtless critical for Paul’s adopting the language of brother and sister for believers. Theologically, believers in Christ are siblings, as Rom. 8.29 indicates. However, four observations support the conclusion that the basic shape and main associations, the milieu or social setting, of Paul’s family imagery is decidedly biblical and Jewish. First, at least in the case of sibling language, Paul’s use of family metaphors is explicitly tied to Old Testament texts. In Rom. 9.25–26, Paul calls Gentile believers ‘sons of the living God’ on the basis of Hos. 2.1. And in Gal. 4.27–31, in order to support Paul’s insistence that the Galatian Christians are ‘children of the promise’, he quotes Isa. 54.1.

27 Cf. G. F. Moore, Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era: The Age of the Tannaim (New York: Schocken, 1927–1930), 308–21. 28 Cf. Shemuel Safrai and Menahem Stern, eds., The Jewish People in the First Century:  Historical Geography, Political History, Social Cultural and Religious Life and Institutions (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976), 945–69. 29 Cf. Bertil E. Gärtner, The Temple and the Community in Qumran and the New Testament, SNTSMS 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965), 47–57. 30 For instance, the community is called a ‘household of truth’ (1QS 5:6), a ‘household of holiness’ (1QS 8:5) and a ‘household of perfection’ (1QS 8:9). 31 For a discussion on the Qumran community as household or family see Banks, Paul’s Idea of Community, 54–56. 32 Ernest Best, Paul and His Converts (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988), 35.

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Second, while the language of brother and sister was not unheard of in pagan philosophical circles, groups like the Epicureans and the Cynics preferred the language of friendship. Paul, on the other hand, avoids calling Christians his friends; φίλος occurs 29 times in the NT but nowhere in Paul’s letters. Malherbe himself admits this, noting: Paul does not speak of friends or friendship but of brotherly love (philadelphia). He was familiar with the conventional discussions about friendship but studiously avoided using the word itself. The plausible suggestion has been made that he did so because of the anthropocentric connotations that ‘friend’ carried among the Greeks (philos) and Romans (amicus).33

Third, in contrast to the philosophers, who focused more on the individual when providing moral exhortation, the goal of Paul’s father-like instruction was closely tied to building up the whole community of God, in a fashion like that of the Jewish father tradition. Wayne Meeks wrote, concerning the New Testament ethics more generally: ‘We cannot begin to understand that process of moral formation until we see that it is inextricable from the process by which distinctive communities were taking shape. Making morals means making community.’34 And, fourth, Paul shares some specific terms and motifs, as we will see when analyzing the family metaphors in Paul’s letters. What, then, are the principal associations of fathers, mothers and siblings in Paul’s Jewish inheritance, both the Jewish Scriptures and Jewish intertestamental literature? By way of preview, parents and siblings did many things, but three prominent ones are: (1) fatherly correction, exhortation and instruction; (2) motherly affection; and (3) sibling harmony, mutual care and support. My point is a simple one: in each case the same associations appear in Paul’s metaphorical applications of the three images. a. Paul as father: Correction, exhortation and instruction What does Paul do in his role as a father? In his biblical and Jewish heritage, both literal and figurative fathers exhort and discipline their children. Paul is no different. One of the main associations of what it means to be a father in the Old Testament is the task of disciplining children. In Proverbs, father-like sages make frequent reference to the need to be careful to ‘discipline’ your children (Prov. 13.24), to ‘rebuke’ them when necessary (1.25; cf. 10.17), on occasion using ‘the rod of discipline’ (22.15; cf. 10.13; 23.13–14). The responsibility to discipline is based on the premise that fathers were to be obeyed: ‘A wise son heeds his father’s instruction’

33 Malherbe, Paul and the Thessalonians, 104. 34 Wayne A. Meeks, The Origins of Christian Morality (New Haven: Yale, 1993), 5.

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(13.1; cf. 15.5; 29.15; 30.17). In Prov. 3.12, the Lord is compared to a caring father and is said to ‘discipline those he loves’. Such discipline is underscored with respect to the Davidic King in 2 Sam. 7.14: ‘I will be his father, and he will be my son. When he does wrong, I will punish him with a rod wielded by men.’ And God promises to do the same for all of his people to bring them to maturity:  ‘Know then in your heart that as a man disciplines his son, so the Lord your God disciplines you’ (Deut. 8.5; cf. Mal. 1.6). Anthony Myrick notes that Second Temple Jewish texts contain similar associations: According to Philo, Moses ‘corrects’ his ‘true-born sons’ not abusively but as ‘a very kindly disposed father’ (Life of Mos. 1:328). Moreover, Sirach writes as a fictive father (Sir 3:1; cf. 2:1; 4:1; 7:1) and speaks of the need to ‘discipline,’ ‘whip often’ and ‘take pains’ with one’s spiritual ‘sons,’ nonetheless emphasizing that the motivation for this discipline is love: ‘He who loves his son will whip him often, in order that he may rejoice at the way he turns out. He who disciplines his son will profit by him . . . Discipline your son and take pains with him, that you may not be offended by his shamelessness’ (Sir 30:1–2, 13) . . . The Qumran group also adopts the paternal tradition and likens the role of its pastoral leaders to that of a father (1QH 7:20–2; CD 13:9). And in the Psalms of Solomon, God’s discipline of the righteous is like that of a father for his ‘beloved son’ (Pss. Sol. 13:7–10; 18:3–4, 7).35

With reference to Paul, in 1 Cor. 4.15–21 Paul threatens to use the ‘rod’ of discipline, and here too it is a last resort and motivated by love: Paul would prefer to come ‘with love in a spirit of gentleness’ (4.21). A ‘rod’ could be used for a number of different purposes, such as an aid to walking, herding animals or beating people. The rod that Paul threatens to brandish reluctantly is what Old Testament wisdom believed a father should use to drive out folly from the heart of his children (Prov. 22.15; 23.13–14; see 1 Cor. 4.15, ‘in Christ Jesus I became your father’). More briefly, along with discipline, a second association of fathers in the Old Testament and ancient Judaism is their responsibility to exhort and instruct their children. Consider just two examples. In Jer. 38.9–10 LXX, God is viewed as a ‘father to Israel’ who ‘will bring them back with moral admonitions’. And in T. Reu. 4:4, moral exhortation is also linked explicitly to the role of a ‘father’: ‘My father exhorted me . . . and from then on I repented, and I have been very careful and have not sinned.’ Significantly, Paul uses the term παρακαλέω, the same Greek word behind those italicized in the previous two texts, in the immediate contexts of calling himself a father in 1 Corinthians and 1 Thessalonians. In 1 Cor. 4.14–15, Paul writes as the community’s father: ‘Therefore I exhort you.’ And in 1 Thess. 2.11–12, Paul writes as ‘a father deals with his children, encouraging (παρακαλέω), comforting

35 Myrick, ‘Paul’s Pastoral Practice’, 88.

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and urging you to live lives worthy of God’. In Phlm. 10, Paul appeals (παρακαλέω) to Philemon for his child Onesimus. b. Paul as mother: Love and affection What does Paul do in his role as a mother? In Paul’s hands, the image is associated with tender, affectionate care. Note 1 Thess. 2:7b: ‘But we were gentle among you, like a nurse tenderly caring for her own children.’ Paul’s nurse imagery is frequently traced to a cynic background where, as Malherbe points out, it was used in discussions distinguishing the ideal philosopher from the harsh cynic preacher.36 However, the Old Testament and ancient Judaism provide a convincing background here as well. A mother’s role of tenderly nursing and nourishing her babies at her breast is a common theme in the Old Testament (Gen. 21.7; 1 Sam. 1.21– 23; 1 Kgs 3.21; Ps. 22.9; Isa. 49.23).37 Even the sages, who strongly emphasize the instruction and discipline of a father, speak of a child’s need to be ‘tenderly loved in the presence of its mother’ (Prov. 4:3). Myrick points to the analogous maternal imagery in the Old Testament: The imagery of a nursing mother was often adopted by Israel’s leaders. In Numbers 11:12, for example, in his tender and supportive pastoral role over Yahweh’s people, Moses is compared to a nursing mother: ‘Was it I who conceived all this people? Have I brought them forth, that you should say to me, carry them in your bosom, as a nurse would carry her nursing children to the land which you did swear to their fathers?’ Since nurses were usually mothers (Gen 21:7; 1 Sam 1:21–23; 1 Kgs 3:21; Ps 22:9; Cant 8:1; Isa 49:23) in ancient Israel it seems appropriate to assume that Moses is being depicted in the role of a mother. As well as being a father to his people, the Lord is affectionate towards Israel in his role as nursing mother: ‘Can a woman forget her nursing child, so as not to have compassion upon the offspring of her womb? Even these may forget yet I will not forget you, says the Lord’. (Isa 49:15; cf. 66:12–13; Ps 130:2)38

Indeed, the same themes appear in intertestamental Jewish writings, where the support and affection as a mother to her children is seen as part of a leader’s pastoral practice. For example, at Qumran the Lord is compared to a ‘woman who tenderly loves her babes’ (1QH 9:29–32). The Letter of Thanksgiving presents male leaders not only as fathers who exhort and discipline, but as nursing mothers who tenderly care for their spiritual children (1QH 7:20–22). And Philo compares 36 Malherbe, ‘Gentle as a Nurse’; Paul and the Popular Philosophers (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 42–44. 37 Job 3.12 refers to the ‘supportive knees’ as well as ‘suckled breasts’ of mothers by their children. However, in special circumstances, a paid nurse was brought in to suckle the child in place of the mother (Gen. 24.59; 35.8; Exod. 2.7–9; Ruth 4.16; 2 Sam. 4.4; 1 Kgs 1.2; 2 Kgs 11.2). 38 Myrick, ‘Paul’s Pastoral Practice’, 90.

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Moses both to a father who exhorts and corrects his flock and to a nursing mother who is highly supportive of his community (Mig. Abr. 5:24). Further, 4 Macc. 14.13 concludes:  ‘How complex is a mother’s love for her children, which draws everything toward an emotion felt in her inmost parts . . . who because of her birth pangs has a deeper sympathy toward her offspring than do the fathers’ (4 Macc 14.13; 15.4). c. Paul as brother: Harmony, mutual care and support What does Paul do in his role as a brother? And what does he expect of brothers and sisters in Christ? Sibling relationships plays a central role in Paul the pastor’s work of establishing communities of mutual care and responsibility. The extensive use of sibling language in the early church stood out in the ancient world, with the one exception of ancient Jews, whose kinship could be traced in general terms through bloodlines.39 When it comes to the roots of this practice, even Malherbe admits that ‘it is generally agreed that the Christian concept of brotherhood developed out of Judaism. Pagans, in fact, took offense at the intimacy that Christians expressed with such language, and scorned it’.40 Paul Trebilco lists the following titles and descriptions favoured by the first Christians: believers, saints, the church, disciples, the Way, Christians, and brothers and sisters (ἀδελφοί). It is significant for our investigation of personal identity that ‘ἀδελφοί is the most common term used as a designation for Christians in the NT.’41 In fact, as Trevor Burke notes, ‘the frequency with which the early Christian movement in general, and the apostle Paul in particular, employed this expression is unprecedented’.42 The feelings elicited by the family of God metaphor are not hard to discern.43 If the affective impact of having God as your father is the experience of love and intimacy with God (see above), a corresponding love for and intimacy with fellow believers is communicated by the family of God metaphor. 39 See many examples in 1 and 2 Macc. and generally in Rabbinic texts. 40 Malherbe, Paul and the Thessalonians, 49; cf. Hans von Soden, ‘ἀδελφός κτλ.’, TDNT 1:145: ‘There can be no doubt, however, that ἀδελφός is one of the religious titles of the people of Israel taken over by the Christian community.’ 41 Paul Trebilco, Self-designations and Group Identity in the New Testament (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 65; cf. 300: ‘When early Christians called themselves “brothers and sisters” . . . they were creating and shaping their identity and their ongoing life as well as reflecting their experience of what was significant for them.’ 42 Trevor J. Burke, Family Matters: A Socio-Historical Study of Kinship Metaphors in 1 Thessalonians (London: T&T Clark, 2003), 174. 43 Cf. Trebilco, Self-designations and Group Identity, 65: ‘The very widespread use of ἀδελφοί across our texts shows how widely it was in use amongst the earliest Christians, and that it can be seen as a unifying factor across the movement. Its importance can be related to the pervasive ethos of being fictive kinship groups in early Christianity . . . This speaks of a sense of love, mutuality, togetherness, and belonging and also testifies that

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The compound word φιλαδελφία (‘love for brothers or sisters’, BDAG) combines the Greek words for ‘love’ and ‘sibling’. It appears twice in Paul’s letters. Modern translations concerned with not misrepresenting its gender inclusiveness translate it as ‘love’ (NIV) or ‘mutual love’ (NET). But its connection to the family metaphor should not be missed. An alternative translation might be ‘family affection’, especially in contexts where the word ‘love’ is also present. Christians should have the closeness and love for one another that characterize siblings (in their better moments): Love one another with brotherly [and sisterly] affection. (Rom. 12.10 ESV) Now concerning love of the brothers and sisters, you do not need to have anyone write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another. (1 Thess. 4.9 NRSV)

Paul also connects love and brothers and sisters in his distinctive address, ‘My beloved brethren’ (1 Cor. 15.58; Phil. 4.1 NASB, ἀδελφοί μου ἀγαπητοὶ). Psalm 133.1 gives us a glimpse of the background for such sentiments in the Old Testament: ‘How good and pleasant it is when brothers [and sisters] live together in harmony!’ (Ps. 133.1 CSB). If love and intimacy are the emotive effect of living out the metaphor of the family of God, what is its cognitive meaning? What does Paul do with the identity of believers as brothers and sisters? In general terms, two things stand out.44 First, sibling language is used to call for the avoidance of conflict. To the church of God in Corinth, Paul asks: ‘Is it so, that there is not among you one wise man who will be able to decide between his brethren, but brother goes to law with brother, and that before unbelievers?’ (1 Cor. 6.5 NASB). Brothers and sisters are not to squabble. Second, being brothers and sisters is the grounds for exercising mutual care and support: Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. (Gal. 6.1–2)

the early Christians saw themselves as a distinctive group over against other groups. This use of ἀδελφοί both reflects and enhances the identity and cohesion of early Christian groups.’ 44 Cf. Trebilco, Self-designations and Group Identity, 308: ‘The sibling metaphor relates to social relations, to emotional ties, to harmony and concord, as well as to a common ancestry through the work of Christ, and so has a rich range of links to Christology, ecclesiology, ethics, and so on.’

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In terms of Old Testament precedents, compare the ban on charging interest to fellow Israelites: ‘Do not charge your brother [or sister Israelite] interest on silver, food, or anything that can earn interest. You may charge a foreigner interest, but you must not charge your brother [or sister Israelite] interest’ (Deut. 23.19 CSB). Such language recalls Cain’s excuse that he was not his ‘brother’s keeper’ (Gen. 4.8–10). Apparently believers in Christ are in fact their brothers’ and sisters’ keepers. With reference to postbiblical Jewish tradition, the leaders at Qumran used sibling imagery as a means of reinforcing reciprocal forms of care (1QS 6:10, 22; 1QSa 1:18; CD 6:20; 7:1; 8:6; 19:18; 20:18).45 Josephus writes about the brother-like care of the Essenes: They seem to have a greater affection for one another than the other sects have . . . Nor is there any one to be found among them who has more than another, but everyone’s possessions are intermingled with every other’s possessions: and so there is as it were one patrimony among all the brethren. (J. W. 2.119, 122)

The author of Sirach calls himself a father and nurtures his community using familial terms (Sir. 10:20, 25:1, 29:10). In Sir. 33:31, he writes: ‘If you have a servant treat him as a brother for as your own soul you will need him.’

3. Conclusion What have we learned about the roots of the household setting of Paul’s pastoral practice? A good case can be made that Paul stands firmly in an Old Testament and Jewish tradition. This is in fact an old scholarly debate, with implications for the history of the early church and for Pauline interpretation. Scott Hafemann rightly noted in 1993: The fundamental issue still to be resolved in Pauline studies is the determination of the primary religious and theological context within which Paul’s thought is to be understood . . . whether one interprets his letters predominantly against the Greco-Roman philosophical and religious world of Paul’s day, as Bultmann argued over fifty years ago, or in the light of the Hellenistic-Jewish world of the first century and its Scriptures, as Adolf Schlatter proposed in the early decades of this century.46

What was on Paul’s business card? Along with apostle, missionary and theologian, we could add international aid fundraiser, letter-writer, advocate and so on. 45 See Theodor H. Gaster, ed., The Dead Sea Scriptures in English Translation (New York:  Doubleday, 1956), 11–12, 20–22 for a description of the Qumran community in terms of a family. 46 Scott J. Hafemann, ‘Paul and His Interpreters’, DPL 678.

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There were many dimensions to his labours. Was he also a pastor? This short study of Paul’s family metaphors in their ancient milieu and in the context of his letters moves us some way towards a positive response. The other chapters in this volume test the case further and suggest further avenues for research. To the Christian pastors reading this book who may look to Paul’s example, the following questions may be posed: Do you exhort and discipline those for whom you are responsible? Do you care for them affectionately? Do you nurture a culture of mutual care? Or, more memorably and with feeling, are you a father, mother and brother or sister to God’s people?

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Chapter 2 P AU L A S P A ST O R I N A C T S :   M O D E L L I N G A N D T E AC H I N G P E R SEV E R A N C E I N T H E   F A I T H Alan J. Thompson

Perhaps a chapter on Paul as pastor in Acts is optimistic! Is not Paul more of a travelling evangelist than a pastor in Acts, dashing from one place to another, always on the move, leaving new believers in order to take the gospel to new places? Günther Bornkamm, for instance, stated that: it is perfectly astonishing to see how short a time he took in traversing the extensive fields where he worked, and how quickly he left scarcely founded churches and travelled farther, instead of taking time to care for them and train them . . . The great goal of carrying the gospel to the ends of the earth kept him always on the move and gave him no rest.1

In this chapter I will argue that Acts describes Paul as someone with great pastoral concern for believers.2 Paul’s pastoral activity in Acts is particularly focused on encouraging believers to persevere in the faith in the face of danger and opposition. Although it is obvious that there are descriptions of Paul’s ministry that are unique to him in the narrative of Acts (e.g. his conversion and commission in Acts 9), there are also aspects of his pastoral care that are intended as models for others in pastoral ministry. As might be expected, this chapter will focus on Paul’s speech to the Ephesian elders in Acts 20. This speech, however, is not the only description of Paul as a pastor in Acts. It culminates the descriptions of Paul’s pastoral concern throughout the narrative of Acts that believers persevere in the faith.3 1 Günther Bornkamm, Paul (London:  Harper, 1971), 54–55 (italics added), cited in Eckhard J. Schnabel, Paul the Missionary:  Realities, Strategies and Methods (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2008), 196. 2 It is more accurate to describe Paul as a ‘missionary pastor’ than merely a travelling evangelist; cf. James W. Thompson, ‘Paul as Missionary Pastor’, in Paul as Missionary: Identity, Activity, Theology, and Practice, ed. Trevor J. Burke and Brian S. Rosner, LNTS 420 (London: T&T Clark, 2011), 25. 3 Although some find little value in Acts to understand Paul as a pastor in particular (e.g. Ernest Best, Paul and His Converts [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988], 5), for the purposes

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1. Early hints of Paul’s pastoral ministry in Syrian Antioch After the account of Paul’s conversion, early ministry, escape to Jerusalem and escape to Tarsus (Acts 9.1–30), the next time we encounter Paul, he is brought by Barnabas, that ‘son of encouragement’, from Tarsus to help establish new believers in Syrian Antioch (11.25). In the narrative of Acts, this ‘interlude’ in 11.19– 30 (between accounts that focus on Peter) demonstrates that this new church in Antioch (a church made up of persecuted believers from Jerusalem as well as new Gentile believers) is established before becoming the new centre for the spread of the gospel through Paul’s ministry in Acts 13–20. When Barnabas arrives, he sees ‘the grace of God’ (11.23), which, in the context of ‘the Lord’s hand’ enabling a great number of people to believe (11.21), means he sees ‘what the grace of God had done’ (11.23 NIV). Barnabas’s response to this is to rejoice and encourage ‘all of them to remain true to the Lord’ (11.23). It is this context of encouraging perseverance that sets the scene for Paul’s early ministry in Antioch. The implication of 11.26 is that he is brought from Tarsus by Barnabas for this pastoral ministry of establishing and nurturing this church. Barnabas and Paul’s ministry for ‘a whole year’ in Antioch involves meeting with the church and teaching ‘large numbers’ who had been ‘added to the Lord’ (11.24, 26).4 So, the first account of Paul’s ministry following his conversion and commission shows him engaged in primarily a pastoral role, in which he is helping to see a church strengthened. When combined with the role of Barnabas here, this pastoral work is characterized by: (a) recognition that God was the one who brought the church into existence, (b) exhortation to persevere or ‘remain’ with the Lord and (c) extended time teaching the church. These brief hints are developed a little more in 14.21–23 and given extended treatment in Acts 20.

2. Pastoral care at the end of Paul’s first ‘missionary journey’ It is from this church in Syrian Antioch that Paul and Barnabas are sent off on what has been called Paul’s first ‘missionary journey’.5 The description of their return to

of this chapter I am assuming (a) that the author was Luke, an occasional travelling companion of Paul’s, and (b)  that Luke was able to faithfully incorporate accounts of Paul’s activity and teaching into his own narrative emphases. For further discussion, see, for example, Craig S. Keener, Acts, vol. 1 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012), 221–57; Alan J. Thompson, Luke, EGGNT (Nashville:  B&H Academic, 2016), 3–6. My focus here is primarily on the presentation of Paul in Acts on its own terms rather than to provide detailed comparisons between Acts and Paul’s letters (though some relevant references to his letters will be added in the footnotes). 4 Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture citations are from the CSB. 5 Although I  do not think Paul’s ‘missionary journeys’ are the best way to structure the second half of Acts, it is nevertheless true that Acts 13.1–14.28 is a literary unit

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these new churches at the end of this journey in 14.21–23 sets up a pattern that continues for the rest of Paul’s travels in Acts and culminates with his teaching to the elders of the Ephesian church in Acts 20.6 After evangelistic ministry in Pisidian Antioch, Iconium, Lystra and finally Derbe, rather than continuing south-east on the shorter route to their starting point in Syrian Antioch, Paul and Barnabas return the long way back through Lystra, Iconium and Pisidian Antioch again (14.21).7 This longer and obviously challenging journey (in light of the descriptions in Acts 13–14 of what has just happened in these places) in itself highlights Paul’s pastoral concern for these new believers. In the description of this return, we are given:  (a)  a brief summary of the activity they engaged in with these new believers, (b) a one-sentence summary of what they said to these new believers and (c)  a glimpse into the provision they make for the ongoing sustenance of these new believers.

a. Paul and Barnabas’s activity The activity Paul and Barnabas engage in during this return journey is ‘strengthening the souls of the disciples’ (ESV; ἐπιστηρίζοντες τὰς ψυχὰς τῶν μαθητῶν). This ‘strengthening’ is then explained in terms of ‘encouraging them to continue in the faith’ (παρακαλοῦντες ἐμμένειν τῇ πίστει).8 In the immediate context, the reason Paul encourages these disciples to ‘remain’ or ‘continue’ in the faith is the real threat of persecution. Each of the towns specifically mentioned in 14.21 had only recently been a place of persecution for Paul and Barnabas (cf. 2 Tim. 3.10–12). In Lystra, where Paul had just been, Jews from Pisidian Antioch and Iconium, together with the crowd at Lystra, had stoned him and left him for dead (Acts 14.19; cf. 2 Cor. 11.25). However, Paul and Barnabas had just fled (κατέφυγον) from Iconium to Lystra because of the threats of assault and stoning from Gentiles and Jews as well as their leaders in Iconium (Acts 14.5–6). Likewise, they had just come to Iconium from Pisidian Antioch because they had been expelled (ἐξέβαλον) under persecution from the region of Pisidian Antioch (13.50–51). It is in the context of persecution, then, that Paul and Barnabas return to these new disciples in order to encourage them to continue in the faith. Surely this

focused on this ‘missionary journey’; see Alan J. Thompson, The Acts of the Risen Lord Jesus:  Luke’s Account of God’s Unfolding Plan, NSBT 27 (Nottingham:  Apollos; Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2011), 67–70, for a brief explanation of the structure of Acts. 6 See §3 below for other references in Acts to this pattern of pastoral concern in Paul’s travels. 7 See Eckhard J. Schnabel, Early Christian Mission, vol. 2:  Paul and the Early Church (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2004), 1074–77, for travel routes and distances. 8 That is, ‘strengthening . . . by encouraging’ (CSB). Cf. 11.23 above (also 13.43).

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risky return shows that Paul could not be accused of lacking in care for the new believers.9 b. Paul and Barnabas’s message The reality of suffering as a potential threat to the perseverance of these disciples in the faith is seen in the one-sentence summary of the message of encouragement that Paul and Barnabas gave them: ‘It is necessary to go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God’ (14.22). This message to all the believers in these towns in this context shows that the suffering and opposition Paul and Barnabas endured in the previous towns is not meant to be understood as suffering that is unique to Paul’s ministry. ‘Hardships’ are part and parcel of living the Christian life this side of the consummated kingdom.10 Paul’s pastoral concern to see believers strengthened to persevere in the faith includes teaching them as a means to prepare them for suffering and opposition in this life. This brief summary indicates that his teaching includes assurance of God’s sovereignty (δεῖ) in the midst of this suffering, and also assurance of their future hope in the consummated kingdom. In other words, these new believers are taught about the significance of the ‘not yet’ in inaugurated eschatology. c. Paul and Barnabas’s provision It is in the context of Paul’s pastoral concern for the perseverance of these believers that we are to understand the appointment of elders (14.23).11 The provision of elders is evidence of Paul’s pastoral concern that the believers have assistance in their perseverance in the setting of local churches. Although we are unable to say too much from these brief descriptions, it is possible that, in this context, the task of the elders is to be patterned on that of Paul and Barnabas. That is, the elders of the local churches, by following Paul’s pattern of teaching and 9 Richard I. Pervo, Acts, Hermeneia (Minneapolis:  Fortress, 2009), 361, sees such a return journey as unlikely under such circumstances and therefore invented by Luke. The immediate context of a message about suffering and the subsequent pattern of returns to these churches, however, fit this broader pattern of Paul’s pastoral concern in Acts, even at risk to his own life. Cf. Craig S. Keener, Acts, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013), 2179–80. 10 See Scott Cunningham, ‘Through Many Tribulations’:  The Theology of Persecution in Luke–Acts, JSNTSup 142 (Sheffield:  Academic Press, 1997); Brian J. Tabb, ‘Salvation, Spreading, and Suffering:  God’s Unfolding Plan in Luke–Acts’, JETS 58 (2015):  53–54; Thompson, Acts, 38–67; Brian J. Tabb, Suffering in Ancient Worldview: Luke, Seneca and 4 Maccabees in Dialogue, LNTS 569 (London: T&T Clark, 2017), 166–68. 11 Contra Pervo, Acts, 362, 20.23 is not anachronistic and un-Pauline. The term ‘elders’ was, of course, already in use for leaders in contemporary Judaism (e.g. Acts 4.5, 8, 23). In 1 Thess. 5.12–13, Paul speaks of leaders over the church (προϊστημι, cf. Rom. 12.8; 1 Tim. 3.4, 5, 12; 5.17).

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encouraging, are to strengthen the believers in these churches to persevere in the faith. The implication, therefore, is that the elders’ role is to prepare believers for the reality of suffering and opposition in this life by teaching them about these things and pointing them forward to the hope of the consummated kingdom. The ultimate source of Paul’s confidence in these elders and their work, however, is the Lord Jesus, as it is to him that Paul ‘entrusts’ them (14.23, cf. NET note, NRSV).12 Paul’s pastoral concern for believers to be cared for by elders in the setting of local churches will become more explicit in the extended discussion that he has with elders in Acts 20. Before we look at that passage, however, it is important to note that this description of Paul’s return to these churches at the end of this first missionary journey forms the pattern for other brief statements about his travels in the rest of Acts.

3. Paul’s return visits: ‘Strengthening all the disciples’ After Paul’s first ‘missionary journey’ in Acts 13–14, the primary reason that Luke regularly and explicitly gives as the impetus for Paul’s travels is his pastoral concern to return to previously planted churches, with a view to strengthening and nurturing believers in the faith. For example, the impetus for what some call the ‘second missionary journey’ is Paul’s suggestion to Barnabas that they return to visit the believers in every town where they have already preached the word, in order to ‘see how they’re doing’ (15.36).13 After a dispute with Barnabas about taking John Mark, Paul takes Silas instead and returns to these towns, ‘strengthening the churches’ (15.41).14 Luke then reinforces this point by stating that, after travelling from town to town back through Derbe, Lystra and Iconium, ‘the churches were strengthened in the faith and grew daily in numbers’ (16.5).15 A similar statement is made at the beginning of the ‘third missionary journey.’ After Paul spent some time in (Syrian) Antioch, he went back through the Galatian and Phrygian regions once again, ‘strengthening all the disciples’ (18.23).16 With

12 Cf. BDAG 772 (παρατίθημι §3b) for the use of this term as ‘entrust someone to the care or protection of someone . . . Of divine protection’. Cf. comments on 20.32 below. 13 Πῶς ἔχουσιν; cf. BDAG 422 (ἔχω §10b): ‘how they are’. 14 Ἐπιστηρίζω is used in 14.22; 15.32, 41; 18.23. 15 Στερεόω is only used here in this sense in Acts (cf. 3.7, 16). Thus, the churches planted in southern Galatia in AD 46–47 (Acts 13–14) were revisited by Paul in AD 47 (14.21–23), AD 49 (16.1–5) and AD 52 (18.23); Schnabel, Paul the Missionary, 197. 16 Likewise, the towns visited in Acts 16–18 (Philippi, Berea, Thessalonica and Corinth) were revisited (19.21; 20.2–3); cf. I. Howard Marshall, ‘Luke’s Portrait of the Pauline Mission’, in The Gospel to the Nations: Perspectives on Paul’s Mission, ed. Peter Bolt and Mark Thompson (Leicester: InterVarsity Press, 2000), 103.

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similar terminology, Paul’s pastoral concern is evident at the outset of both the second and third missionary journeys in the common theme of strengthening believers in faith in the setting of local churches.17 Certainly there is evangelistic ministry in the rest of the second missionary journey in Macedonia (Philippi, Thessalonica and Berea) and Achaia (Athens and Corinth) as well as in Asia (Ephesus) in the third missionary journey. Why, then, did Paul travel to so many places in such a short period of time and leave new believers in these towns? It is to this that we now turn.

4. Some reasons for Paul’s movements As noted above, some see Paul as leaving new believers quickly without taking time to care for them. However, in addition to the observations above concerning the repeated emphasis on Paul’s travels as initiated by return visits to churches for the purpose of strengthening believers, it is also true that many times he left a place only because of persecution. We have already observed that this was the case in the first missionary journey, as Paul was ‘expelled’ (ἐξέβαλον) from the region of Pisidian Antioch (13.50), ‘fled’ (κατέφυγον) under the threat of stoning from Iconium (14.6) and was ‘dragged’ (ἔσυρον) outside Lystra and left for dead (14.19).18 Likewise, in the second missionary journey, Paul and Silas left Philippi because the police officers of the magistrate asked them to (16.39)19 and they left Thessalonica because the believers sent them away under the cloak of darkness due to trouble there (17.10), and Paul was also sent away from Berea by the believers there due to more trouble (17.14). Although we are not told why Paul left Athens,20 his subsequent travels, rather than consisting of just brief visits, were characterized by lengthy stays of over a year and a half in Corinth (18.11), two to three years in

17 The description of Paul’s journeys in Acts 20 before he travels to Jerusalem likewise evidences his pastoral concern to encourage and teach believers in anticipation of the climactic speech that he gives to the Ephesian elders (cf. 20.1–2, 7, 12; cf. also 16.40). Cf. Julie A. Glavic, ‘Eutychus in Acts and in the Church: The Narrative Significance of Acts 20:6– 12’, BBR 24 (2014): 179–206, esp. 195, for an argument that Acts 20.6–12 highlights Paul’s authority to teach (though Glavic could have made more of the significance of ‘encouragement’ in the immediate narrative context). 18 Although Paul goes back into Lystra before departing for Derbe, it is likely that, since the group of Jews from (Pisidian) Antioch and Iconium had won over the crowd in Lystra to leave him for dead outside the town, his departure from the area was expected. 19 Though Luke explicitly states that they only left after returning to ‘encourage the brothers’ (16.40). 20 In contrast to the following visits to Corinth and Ephesus, no specific length of time is given in Acts for Paul’s stay in Athens. Μετὰ ταῦτα in Acts 18.1 is general.

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Ephesus (19.10; 20.31) and ‘many words of encouragement’ (20.2) to believers in Macedonia and Troas (20.1–12).21 Thus, Eckhard Schnabel concludes that, far from being a whistle-stop traveller abandoning new believers with little pastoral concern, ‘Paul’s missionary work was characterized by pastoral work in one location just as much as by “missionary travels” ’.22 In fact, Schnabel claims that there is no explicit evidence that Paul ever stopped his missionary work in a city on his own initiative in order to start a new project in unreached areas – apart from his mission to Corinth and Ephesus, two cities in which he stayed for over two years.23

To summarize our findings so far: Paul’s pastoral concern for believers is such that he leaves freshly planted churches only when he has to. Where possible, he returns to spend time with new believers even at great personal risk. His pastoral aim is always to encourage and teach believers so they will be strengthened in the faith and prepared in the face of opposition. The hints that this perseverance in the faith will take place in local churches under the care of elders who follow the concern of Paul and serve with the enabling help of God are made explicit in Paul’s speech to the Ephesian elders at the culmination of his ministry as a free man in Acts.

5. The pattern of Paul’s pastoral care in Acts 20 The literary setting of Paul’s speech to the Ephesian elders in Acts 20 indicates that this is a climactic statement in Acts.24 Regardless of how one structures the second half of Acts, this speech comes at the end of Paul’s ministry as a free man before the final ‘trials’ section of Acts 21–28.25 In its more immediate context, the speech comes soon after a lengthy account of several incidents surrounding Paul’s ministry in Ephesus as a climactic account of his ministry 21 Παρακαλέω is used in 20.1, 2, 12 (cf. similar uses in 11.23; 14.22; 15.32; 16.40). Again, Paul left Greece after only three months because there was a plot against him (20.3). 22 Schnabel, Paul the Missionary, 196; cf. Marshall, ‘Luke’s Portrait of the Pauline Mission’, 103. 23 Ibid., 197; cf. W. Paul Bowers, ‘Fulfilling the Gospel:  The Scope of the Pauline Mission’, JETS 30 (1987): 192–93. 24 Cf. Andrew W. Pitts and Joshua F. Walker, ‘The Authorship of Hebrews: A Further Development in the Luke-Paul Relationship’, in Paul and His Social Relations, ed. Stanley E. Porter and Christopher D. Land (Leiden:  Brill, 2013), 143–84, for recent discussion of Luke’s reporting of Paul’s speeches in Acts. On this speech, see Craig S. Keener, Acts, vol. 3 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014), 2998–3002. 25 Cf. Thompson, Acts, 63–64, 69–70, for the pattern of ‘nurturing the churches’ in Acts 14.21–28 and 20.1–21.14 (adapting an outline from F. Scott Spencer, Journeying Through Acts: A Literary Cultural Reading [Peabody : Hendrickson, 2004], 141).

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in the province of Asia, which lasts for the lengthy period of two to three years (18.19–19.41).26 Although there are plausible reasons why Paul requests the elders in Ephesus to meet him in Miletus, Luke does not provide any.27 Instead, the statement about Paul’s haste to get to Jerusalem (20.16) is placed side-by-side with his request, or ‘summons’ (μετεκαλέομαι), for the Ephesian elders to come to him in Miletus. In this context of Paul’s urgency to get to Jerusalem, the request by messenger from Miletus to Ephesus for the elders to travel a two- to four-day journey to meet Paul adds to the importance of this speech (20.17).28 Furthermore, the broad genre of the speech as a ‘farewell’ is accentuated with the elders’ grief over the prospect of never seeing Paul again (20.25, 38).29 The emotional farewell shows that Paul is held in great respect and his presence and instruction were highly valued, and there is evidence of deep personal involvement by Paul in the lives of these elders (20.37–38). The overall structure of the speech can be divided into three broad sections, based on a shift in content, to focus more explicitly on instruction to the Ephesian elders at 20.28: (1) a description of Paul’s ministry, both past (20.18–21) and future (20.22–27); (2) Paul’s specific exhortations to the Ephesian elders (20.28–31); and (3) his final reassurances and application of his own example (20.32–36).30 In what follows, we will not only observe features of Paul’s own pastoral ministry, we will also see that these descriptions are given so that the Ephesian elders will duplicate them in their own pastoral work. a. Setting an example The primary emphasis in the first part of this address is on the Ephesian elders’ knowledge of Paul’s conduct. The whole of Paul’s opening statement about his past ministry (20.18–21) is governed by the opening words, ‘You know’.31 26 Cf. Spencer, Journeying Through Acts, 190–99, for a summary of the scenes related to Ephesus in Acts 18.19–19.41. Cf. Alan J. Thompson, One Lord, One People: The Unity of the Church in Acts in Its Literary Setting, LNTS 359 (London: T&T Clark, 2008), 157–58, for the relationship between the ‘assembly’ in Acts 20 to the ‘assembly’ in Acts 19. 27 Cf. the range of proposals in Paul Trebilco, The Early Christians in Ephesus from Paul to Ignatius (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 173–74; Keener, Acts, 3:2988–92. 28 Eckhard J. Schnabel, Acts, ZECNT 5 (Grand Rapids:  Zondervan, 2012), 838, notes that the distance of approximately 50 kilometres (30 miles) often given for this journey is only correct for ‘a crow that can fly’. Those travelling by foot would have had to negotiate the mountain ranges and travel approximately 100 kilometres (62 miles). 29 Steve Walton, Leadership and Lifestyle: The Portrait of Paul in the Miletus Speech and 1 Thessalonians, SNTSMS 108 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 55–65. 30 For proposals regarding the structure of the speech, see Beverly R. Gaventa, ‘Theology and Ecclesiology in the Miletus Speech:  Reflections on Content and Context’, NTS 50 (2004): 36–52; John J. Kilgallen, ‘Paul’s Speech to the Ephesian Elders: Its Structure’, ETL 70 (1994): 112–21; Walton, Leadership and Lifestyle, 66–75. 31 Ὑμεῖς ἐπίστασθε (the pronoun here may be emphatic: ‘you yourselves know’, ESV). Gaventa, ‘Theology and Ecclesiology’, rightly highlights the theological emphasis of this

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In Acts 13–14, the suffering that Paul encountered was not unique to his ministry. His own perseverance in suffering provided the context for his encouragement to the believers in 14.21–23 to persevere in the faith in the midst of suffering. Likewise, here it is Paul’s own example of faithfulness in the face of opposition that provides the context for his exhortations to the Ephesian elders. The pattern is one of consistent integrity (‘the whole time’, 20.18) and faithful proclamation of God’s word in the midst of opposition (the ‘trials’, 20.19).32 This same pattern is seen in Paul’s anticipation of what lies ahead for him, more trials (‘chains and afflictions’, 20.23), but with the goal of faithful proclamation of the gospel right to the end of his life (20.24). This pattern of modelling sacrificial service in the opening of Paul’s speech returns in his concluding words (20.33–35).33 His own lifestyle, devoid of greed (20.33; in contrast to the silversmiths of Ephesus, 19.24–27) but characterized by hard work, sacrificial service and generosity to others, is now explicitly stated to be a model for the Ephesian elders (‘In every way I’ve shown you’, 20.35). This does not mean they have to personally physically provide for everyone around them. It is a lived-out example before them of generosity and the kind of ‘labour’ or hard work involved in helping others who need help.34 Then, what was implicit in Paul’s earlier descriptions of his trials and opposition is made explicit:  this pattern of sacrificial service for others also reflects the character of the Lord Jesus and his teaching on generosity.35 Thus generosity, rather than greed, is to characterize all who follow the Lord Jesus, with those in pastoral ministry leading the way. This emphasis not only helps us to see that Paul as a pastor to these elders is offering his own life and ministry as an example for them to follow, it also provides the context for his exhortation to these elders (20.28). When Paul moves from an account of his own ministry to specifically address the elders, his first exhortation is, ‘Be on guard for yourselves.’ Before addressing their tasks for the church, Paul’s first area of concern is the spiritual well-being of the elders themselves (cf. 20.30). They may be called to shepherd the flock, yet they too are part of the flock. It is

address but downplays too much the exemplary language found throughout. Compare the similar emphasis in 1 Thess. 2 (using οἶδα). 32 Cf. 20.31: ‘night and day for three years . . . with tears’. On consistency in the face of trials, see 2 Tim. 2.3–7, 15; 3.10–15; 4.5. 33 Αὐτοὶ γινώσκετε. Although there are stylistic differences with 20.18, the same emphatic ‘you yourselves know’ statement is made here in 20.34. 34 Οὕτως κοπιῶντας (‘by working hard in this way’, ESV; ‘by this kind of hard work’, NIV). Paul uses similar terminology of ‘labour’ for leaders in the church (cf. 1 Thess. 5.12; 1 Tim. 5.17). On Paul’s use of κοπός and κοπιάω with reference to his work of evangelism and edification, see Peter Orr, ‘Abounding in the Work of the Lord (1 Cor 15:58): Everything We Do as Christians or Specific Gospel Work?’, Them 38.2 (2013): 205–14; Schnabel, Early Christian Mission, 1436–37. Note a similar analogy between 1 Thess. 2.5, 9 and 4.9–11 (contra Best, Paul, 72, 105). See also Robert Yarbrough’s chapter in the present volume. 35 This encouragement to follow Paul’s example as he follows Christ is explicitly stated in 1 Cor. 11.1 (cf. 1 Cor. 4.16; Phil. 3.17; 2 Thess. 3.7; 1 Tim. 4.12; Tit. 2.7; also 1 Pet. 5.1–4).

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perhaps also the case, however, that they must watch over themselves as an integral part of their own ministry among the flock so that they too will be examples for the flock (cf. 1 Tim. 4.16). Thus, in summary, Paul’s pastoral leadership (and therefore that of the Ephesian elders) is demonstrated in ‘self-denying, Christ-honoring modeling of the Christian life and way’.36 This pattern of Paul’s example will continue to be seen in the following observations. b. God’s word As we have seen already, part of the focus in Paul’s reminder to the Ephesian elders of his own conduct is his faithful proclamation of God’s word. In this sense, there is more to Paul’s pastoral ministry than just modelling faithful character in the context of opposition; there is faithful instruction and proclamation in the context of opposition (Acts 20.19–20, 23–24). In keeping with this, what he demonstrates to them is his confidence in and faithfulness to God’s word both for his evangelistic ministry and for his own teaching of the Ephesians themselves, and also to sustain them in the future. This can be seen in the emphasis in the speech on Paul’s comprehensiveness in proclamation. Thus, statements that Paul did not ‘avoid’ (ὑποστέλλω) declaring anything to the Ephesians essentially frame his opening section describing his own ministry in the speech (20.20, 27). The idea of ‘holding nothing back’ in this context highlights the value or ‘profitability’ (20.20) of the ‘whole plan of God’ (20.27) and thus evidences Paul’s confidence in God’s word. Terms for the activity of proclamation dominate this opening section: ἀναγγέλλω (‘declare’, 20.20, 27), διδάσκω (‘teach’, 20.20), διαμαρτύρομαι (‘testify’, 20.21, 24), κηρύσσω (‘preach’, 20.25). In fact, the reason Paul is able to testify that he is, like a faithful watchman, innocent of everyone’s blood (20.26) is because (γάρ, ‘for’, 20.27) of his faithfulness in proclaiming the whole of God’s plan.37 Although this includes his evangelistic preaching of repentance and faith to both Jews and Gentiles (20.21), it also seems to include his preaching, teaching and warnings to the Ephesian elders.38 As can be seen in Paul’s final assurance to them (20.32), this confidence in God’s word was also meant to characterize the ministry of the elders. Ultimately, Paul entrusts the elders to God and the word of his grace.39 That these are not two independent objects but rather two aspects of God’s protection, in which the word is the means by which God will keep them, is evident in the following phrases. It is the word of his grace that will build them up and ultimately bring them to the

36 D. A. Carson and John D. Woodbridge, Letters Along the Way:  A  Novel of the Christian Life (Wheaton: Crossway, 1993), 129. 37 Cf. Ezek. 3.17–19; 33.1–9; Acts 18.6. 38 Note the second-person pronouns in 20.20 and 20.27, and the reference to ‘each one of you’ in 20.31. 39 Cf. n. 12 above on παρατίθημι in 14.23.

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final inheritance among all who are sanctified. Thus, with the context of Acts 19 in mind, this powerful word that brought the Ephesian church into being and transformed their lives (19.10, 20) is also the means by which they will be sustained to the end. For the Ephesian elders, as it was for Paul, faithful shepherding will include faithful adherence to and faithful proclamation of God’s word. In terms of pastoral ministry, then, Paul does not advocate modelling of Christlike character in and of itself. There must also be faithful instruction:  ‘[W]here there is modelling but no verbal instruction, the attachment is to the pastor, but not to the Word of God. The modelling can then become a form of enslavement.’40 c. God’s people Throughout this speech, Paul’s pastoral heart is evident in his love for people. Paul was no dispassionate aloof preacher without any concern for the well-being of those to whom he ministered. This can be seen in his descriptions of his own ministry, the ministry of the elders and the people under the elders’ care. First, although his ‘tears’ in 20.19 may be related to his own suffering in the face of Jewish opposition, or perhaps to his sorrow at their lack of repentance, the ‘tears’ in 20.31 are more clearly a feature of his own concern for those to whom he is ministering.41 In fact, these tears are mentioned in the context of a review of Paul’s entire ministry in Ephesus (‘for three years’). During this time, Paul never stopped (οὐκ ἐπαυσάμην and νύκτα καὶ ἡμέραν) warning them (νουθετῶν), warnings that were given to the elders individually (ἕνα ἕκαστον).42 In this context, these tearful warnings concerned the need for them to watch over themselves as well as the dangers that false teachers pose (‘savage wolves’, as Paul calls them, 20.29).43 As with the pattern noted above of Paul’s repeated return visits to churches, the picture here is that of his ‘warm, loving relationship’ towards those under his care.44 In this verse (20.31), however, this reminder of Paul’s own consistent pastoral concern for the Ephesians is given as an example for the Ephesian elders. The exhortation at the beginning of 20.31 for the elders to be vigilant (‘be on the alert’) is a general summary of the exhortations in the previous verses to keep watch over themselves and the flock. The participle ‘remembering’ that follows this exhortation, therefore, shows that Paul’s ‘intense personal involvement’ and pastoral

40 Carson and Woodbridge, Letters Along the Way, 129. On the application of the new covenant to the elders’ leadership under God’s word, see Stephen J. Wellum and Kirk Wellum, ‘The Biblical and Theological Case for Congregationalism’, in Baptist Foundations:  Church Government for an Anti-Institutional Age, ed. Mark Dever and Jonathan Leeman (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2015), 70–77. 41 On 20.19, see Schnabel, Acts, 839. Note also 2 Cor. 2.4. 42 For νουθετέω in the NT: Rom. 15.14; 1 Cor. 4.14; Col. 1.28; 3.16; 1 Thess. 5.12 (along with the term κοπιάω for those in leadership, Acts 20.35), 14; 2 Thess. 3.15. 43 Cf. Tit. 1.9; also 2 Cor. 11.28. 44 Marshall, ‘Luke’s Portrait of the Pauline Mission’, 105.

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concern should continue to be ‘a model for their responsibilities’.45 Their ministry of watchfulness is to be carried out ‘remembering’ Paul’s warnings to them. Second, it is in this context that we are to understand the terms that Paul uses for these ‘elders’ (πρεσβύτεροι) to describe their activity:  they are ‘overseers’ (ἐπίσκοποι) who are ‘to shepherd’ (the infinitive ποιμαίνειν) the flock (20.28). ‘Elder’ is the more general term referring to their age, maturity and experience46; ‘overseer’ focuses more on the activity of guiding, guarding, protecting and keeping watch over this local congregation47; and the infinitive ‘to shepherd’ indicates that the purpose of this ‘overseeing’ is to lead, feed, protect and care for these sheep.48 In using these terms to describe the work of the elders, Paul shows his love for God’s people as those who need guarding, protecting, feeding and caring.49 Although these terms are not used of Paul himself, his general summary of the elders’ activity in 20.31 (‘be on the alert, remembering’) reminds them that he has exemplified the pattern of protective pastoral care that the terms reflect. Third, Paul’s pastoral care is also shaped by his view of the people who make up this congregation. He describes them as ‘the church of God’ (20.28) and therefore ultimately owned by God. God is the one who brought them into being, and therefore any leadership that Paul or the elders may have is significantly qualified. Since the church is not ‘their church’, the elders must take care of that which belongs to God.50 Furthermore, the church has been purchased with ‘the blood of his own Son’ (NET, NRSV), which accentuates the costly price and precious value of God’s church.51 Moreover, the task of overseeing is one that the Holy Spirit has ‘appointed’ (τίθημι) them to. Although it is difficult to be certain what this brief phrase means, in the context of the rest of Acts, it may refer to the equipping and empowering for ministry that come from the Spirit.52

45 Schnabel, Acts, 850 n.90. 46 For the use of the term in the context of the leadership of local churches, see, for example, Acts 2.17; cf. 1 Tim. 5.17; Tit. 1.5–6; 1 Pet. 5.1. 47 Cf. Phil. 1.1; 1 Tim. 3.1–2; Tit. 1.7. In Tit. 1.6–7, as here, ‘overseer’ is used interchangeably with ‘elder’ (cf. also the parallels between 1 Tim. 3.1–7 and Tit. 1.6–7). See D. A. Carson, ‘Some Reflections on Pastoral Leadership’, Them 40 (2015): 195–97. 48 Cf. 1 Pet. 5.1–2, where the terms ‘elders’, ‘shepherds’ and ‘overseeing’ are used for the same group (in Eph. 4.11, ‘shepherds’ are closely associated with ‘teachers’). 49 It is perhaps in this sense that believers are described as ‘the weak’ in 20.35 (my thanks to Mark Adams for this observation). 50 Cf. Heb. 13.17; 1 Pet. 5.2–4. 51 The genitive τοῦ ἰδίου (‘one’s own’) may be understood here as a term of endearment and a reference to the Son. On the options, see Walton, Leadership and Lifestyle, 91–98; and the summary in Schnabel, Acts, 846–47. 52 Cf. Thompson, Acts, 131–37.

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This emphasis on God’s ownership and costly purchase of the church highlights accountability to the owner for the diligent care of his people. Ultimately, as Paul indicates in the opening words of this speech, he is ‘serving the Lord with all humility’ (20.19).53 The term δουλεύω indicates that Paul sees himself as enslaved to the Lord Jesus.54 He is under a master with ‘undivided allegiance’.55 d. God’s care Paul’s concluding actions (20.32–36) demonstrate that his awareness of God’s ownership of the church means that his ultimate trust is in God as the one who is at work and who keeps his people. As noted above (on παρατίθημι in 14.23 and 20.32), in 20.32 Paul entrusts these elders into the protection and care of God himself. Not surprisingly, then, Paul’s final action with these overseers is to pray with them immediately after finishing his speech (20.36).56 Reminiscent of the pastoral prayers in his letters, this shows Paul’s trust in action and also demonstrates to the Ephesians where their ultimate source of help must come from.57 Paul’s final departure is not a signal that the church is in danger. The future of the church is not at the mercy of the wolves, nor is it ultimately dependent on the ability of these overseers.58 Paul may have to leave, but he is showing them that they are in the hands of God, who is always with them.59

6. Conclusion In summary, what do we learn about Paul as a pastor in Acts? Certainly we learn that Paul has deep pastoral concern for believers. He almost always leaves new believers only when he is forced to. When he can, he returns to see them and spend 53 On ταπεινοφροσύνη (‘humility’) in the NT: 1 Pet. 5.5; Phil. 2.3; Col. 2.18, 23; 3.12; esp. Eph. 4.2. 54 Cf. references to the Lord Jesus in this context, 20.21, 24, 35. 55 BDAG 259 (δουλεύω §2aβ). Note Paul’s references to himself as a ‘slave (δοῦλος) of Christ’ in Rom. 1.1; Gal. 1.10; Phil. 1.1; Tit. 1.1. Cf. Schnabel, Acts, 839; Murray J. Harris, Slave of Christ:  A  New Testament Metaphor for Total Devotion to Christ, NSBT 8 (Leicester: Apollos; Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1999), 154. 56 The participle εἰπών is temporal (‘After he said this’) and the verb προσηύξατο is singular (‘he prayed’). 57 This is the context for Paul’s admonition in the intervening verses (20.33–35) to work hard like him to help those under their care. God’s sovereignty, for Paul, was an incentive to carry on with gospel work rather than an excuse for inactivity. Cf., for example, Acts 18.10–11 (also Phil. 2.12–13; 2 Cor. 2.14–16). 58 Beverly R. Gaventa, Acts, ANTC (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 289. 59 F. F. Bruce, The Book of the Acts, NICNT, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 1988), 394.

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time with them, at great personal risk. His constant pastoral concern is that believers be strengthened in the faith. He models sacrificial Christ-like love for believers as God’s own blood-bought people. Persistence, integrity, diligence and faithfulness to God’s word in teaching and warning characterize Paul’s pastoral concern that believers be prepared so they can persevere in the face of the persecution and false teachers that characterize life this side of the consummated kingdom. Paul’s provision for the ongoing care of believers focuses on the elders/pastors of local churches. These elders are to follow his concern and pattern and serve diligently, working faithfully at teaching and warning and caring for God’s people as they serve the Lord with the enabling help of his Spirit. The gospel of God’s grace brought the church into being, and it is this same gospel that will sustain the church in the face of opposition and the threat of false teachers. Paul’s confidence as a pastor, therefore, is that God in his grace uses his word as the means by which his people are sustained, and so he fittingly concludes his time of teaching with elders from Lystra, Iconium, Pisidian Antioch and Ephesus with prayer.

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Chapter 3 P AU L A S P A ST O R I N R OM A N S : T H E O L O G IC A L F OU N DAT IO N S Colin G. Kruse

1. Introduction Our access to information about the way Paul functioned as a pastor is chiefly through the letters he wrote to churches. There is a sense in which all of Paul’s letters reflect his pastoral concerns and practice. This, it may be argued, is also true of his letter to the Romans, despite such views as Melanchthon’s, that it is essentially a compendium of his theology, or Manson’s, that it is a theological manifesto, or Bornkamm’s, that it is his ‘last will and testament’.1 Romans is certainly the clearest and most thorough exposition we have of Paul’s gospel, but this exposition was not written simply to outline his theology. Like all of Paul’s other letters, it was written with important pastoral aims and for a specific Christian community. An understanding of Paul as pastor in Romans, therefore, needs to be sought against the background of what may be gleaned concerning his purpose in writing, and this in turn requires an understanding of Paul’s own situation and that of his audience at the time of writing.

2. Paul’s situation when he wrote Romans The apostle wrote this letter at the conclusion of his mission in the north-eastern Mediterranean, during which he evangelized major cities in the Roman provinces of Galatia, Macedonia, Achaia and Asia. His ambition, in line with his determination to preach where the name of Christ was not known, was then to take the gospel to the western extremity of the Mediterranean, to Spain. It was his intention to visit the believers in Rome on his 1 T. W. Manson, ‘St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans – and Others’, and Günther Bornkamm, ‘The Letter to the Romans as Paul’s Last Will and Testament’, in The Romans Debate: Revised and Expanded Edition, ed. Karl P. Donfried (Peabody : Hendrickson, 1991), respectively 3–15, 16–28.

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way to Spain (15.23–24), because, as apostle to the Gentiles, he was responsible under God for them (1.14–15).2 However, before he could do that, he had another obligation to fulfil. Urged by the leaders of the Jerusalem church following his first missionary journey (Gal. 2.9–10), Paul had devoted significant time and energy to organizing a collection among the churches he had founded in Galatia, Macedonia and Achaia, and these churches had responded positively and contributed monies to the collection. Paul, along with representatives of the churches, then had to convey it to Jerusalem before he could pursue his ambition to preach in Spain and visit Rome on the way (Rom. 15.25–28).

3. The situation of the Roman churches The believers in Rome faced many challenges. The churches there were originally predominantly Jewish, most likely founded by Jewish believers having returned from Jerusalem following religious festivals there. However, according to Acts 18.2, Claudius ordered all the Jews to leave Rome, an order believed to have been issued in AD 49. The Roman historian Suetonius (ca. AD 70–130) said that ‘since the Jews constantly made disturbances at the instigation of Chrestus, he [Claudius] expelled them from Rome’ (de Vita Claudii 25.4). Following the edict of Claudius and the expulsion of Jews from Rome, the Christian community would have comprised mainly Gentiles. When Claudius died in AD 54 and his edict lapsed, Jews began to trickle back into Rome. Believing Jews would have found a very different Christian community from the one they left. They were now a minority within a largely Gentile Christian community, and there were significant tensions between the two groups, in particular arising from different convictions concerning the observance of special days and food taboos (14.2–3, 5–6). This was one of the pastoral issues Paul had to address. But it was not the only one. It is clear that some people had come to Rome and were criticizing the gospel that Paul preached on the grounds that it encouraged moral anarchy (3.8; cf. 6.1, 15), and the apostle had to strenuously refute these allegations by insisting that his gospel involved neither a licence to sin nor any denigration of the law. On the contrary, he argued, it was only in the lives of those who accepted and believed the gospel that the power of sin could be broken and the law’s righteous demand find fulfilment (6.1–8.13). Further, the Roman believers lived in the capital of the empire and their relations with civic authorities were an issue, particularly the matter of payment of taxes. Paul gives his advice concerning this matter in 13.1–7. These and other practical pastoral matters are addressed by Paul in Romans, and the way he handled

2 Unless otherwise indicated, all scriptural citations are taken from Paul’s letter to the Romans as translated in the NRSV.

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them will be explored shortly. However, before that it is important to take note of the way Paul understood the nature of his ministry and its spiritual dynamic.

4. Paul’s understanding of the nature of his ministry There are a few places in Paul’s letters where he gives expression to his approach to and theological understanding of the nature of his pastoral ministry, and one of the more important expressions of this is found in 15.14–16: I myself feel confident about you, my brothers and sisters, that you yourselves are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, and able to instruct one another. Nevertheless on some points I  have written to you rather boldly by way of reminder, because of the grace given me by God to be a minister of Christ Jesus to the Gentiles in the priestly service of the gospel of God, so that the offering of the Gentiles may be acceptable, sanctified by the Holy Spirit.

These verses contain the only explicit statement by Paul of his purpose in writing Romans, and it is related to his understanding of his pastoral ministry. Several matters deserve our attention. First, despite having to correct and exhort his audience earlier in the letter, Paul nevertheless expresses his confidence in them when he writes:  ‘I myself feel confident about you, my brothers and sisters, that you yourselves are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, and able to instruct one another.’ He recognizes that there is always good cause to affirm the work of God in believers’ lives, even when there remain areas of concern (cf. his encouragement and affirmation of his audience in 1.8, 11–12; 15.14; 16.19–20). Second, having strongly affirmed his audience, Paul adds:  ‘Nevertheless on some points I  have written to you rather boldly by way of reminder.’3 We have already noted what some of these points were, and we will look at a few of them in more detail shortly. Here we want to note that, while Paul was a great encourager of his converts, he was not prepared to stop with affirmation when other matters needed addressing. Third, Paul says that it was only because of ‘the grace given’ him by God that he was privileged to be a minister of Christ to Gentiles. He knew it was as an act of the grace of God that he, a persecutor of the church, was called to faith in Christ and commissioned as his apostle (1 Cor. 15.8–9), and that it was as the recipient of ongoing grace that he was empowered to carry out that commission (Col. 1.28–29).

3 Brendan Byrne, ‘“Rather Boldly” (Rom. 15,15):  Paul’s Prophetic Bid to Win the Allegiance of the Christians in Rome’, Bib 74 (1993):  93, 95–96, suggests that Paul was speaking boldly when he informed those who were still clinging to the law in order to obtain eschatological righteousness that this was futile, and that only faith in what God had done in Christ would make salvation possible.

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Fourth, Paul describes his ministry as ‘the priestly service of the gospel of God’.4 Part of the function of priests in Israel was to preside over the sacrificial offerings brought by the people of Israel. Exploiting this priestly imagery, Paul describes the purpose of his ministry as ensuring ‘that the offering5 of the Gentiles may be acceptable, sanctified by the Holy Spirit’.6 In Rom. 12.1, he exhorts members of his audience: ‘I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.’ Paul saw it as his responsibility to ensure that the self-offering of Gentile believers was acceptable to God. He carried out this responsibility through ‘the priestly service of the gospel of God’ and, we might add, by expounding the implications of the gospel for godly living. He presided, as it were, as priest over the self-offering of Gentile believers to ensure that they continued to be an offering ‘holy and acceptable to God’. It was a task to which he totally committed himself. It caused him great concern whenever he saw believers regressing into sinful behaviour, or when he saw them under threat from false teachers, used by the devil to turn them away from their pure devotion to Christ (cf. 2 Cor. 11.3). It is significant that Paul saw the proclamation of the word of God as the primary means of a pastoral ministry that could promote godliness. Our Lord himself said of his teaching ministry: ‘It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I  have spoken to you are spirit and life’ (Jn 6.63). It was as the apostle proclaimed the word of God that he witnessed its transforming power in

4 The verb used here (ἱερουργέω, ‘to serve as a priest’) is found only in 15.16 in the NT, and in the LXX only in one manuscript of 4 Maccabees, where it means ‘to minister (to the law)’ (4 Macc. 7.8). It is used by Josephus (Ant. 14.4.3 §65; 17.6.4 §166) and Philo (Cherub. 28 §96) without an object to mean ‘to offer sacrifice’. Cf. Richard N. Longenecker, The Epistle to the Romans, NIGTC (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, 2016), 1038–39. 5 The ‘offering’ is open to two interpretations:  (1)  it consists of the Gentiles themselves, or (2) it consists of donations made by the Gentiles, that is, their contributions to the collection. David J. Downs, ‘“The Offering of the Gentiles” in Romans 15.16’, JSNT 29 (2006): 173–86, favours the second interpretation, arguing that the phrase ἡ προσφορὰ τῶν ἐθνῶν in Rom. 15.16 should be taken as a subjective genitive and therefore in reference to an offering given by Gentiles, namely the collection for the saints that Paul discusses in Rom. 15.25–32. However, the former interpretation, which is adopted by the NIV, is preferable in light of three facts: (1) the apostle has already urged the audience to offer their bodies (i.e. themselves) as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God (12.1); (2) he speaks immediately of this offering being ‘sanctified by the Holy Spirit’, not something that he would say about contributions to a collection; and (3) Paul was heading for Jerusalem with the collection before his planned visit to Rome, and therefore the Roman believers would not have the opportunity to donate to the collection he refers to in 15.25–32. 6 Ben Witherington III with Darlene Hyatt, Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, 2004), 355, draws attention to the ‘trinitarian progression here – Paul is a minister of Christ, serving the gospel of God, offering the Gentiles who have been consecrated by the Spirit’.

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the lives of those he evangelized. In 1 Thess. 2.13 he writes: ‘We also constantly give thanks to God for this, that when you received the word of God that you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word but as what it really is, God’s word, which is also at work in you believers.’ It is a very great privilege to be entrusted with the preaching and teaching of the life-giving word of God and to witness its impact upon people as it is faithfully expounded and used by the Spirit of God to shape their lives. Fifth, Paul’s reference to ‘the priestly service of the gospel of God’ as the means by which he sought to ensure that believers’ self-offering was ‘acceptable to God’ is juxtaposed with a reference to the fact that this takes place as they are ‘sanctified by the Holy Spirit’. Gospel ministry and the sanctifying work of the Spirit go hand in hand, and normally one does not occur without the other. In 1 Thess. 1.4–5, Paul again juxtaposes the proclamation of the word of God with the work of the Holy Spirit: ‘For we know, brothers and sisters beloved by God, that he has chosen you, because 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.’ Paul’s reference to the ‘power’ (δυνάμις) of the Holy Spirit here has been variously interpreted, but is best understood ‘as a reference to the sense of spiritual power attaching to the preached gospel so that it came to be accepted as the word of God’.7

5. The spiritual dynamic of Paul’s ministry Also significant for our understanding of the nature of Paul’s ministry, and in particular the dynamic power of God released through it, is the passage that follows directly after the one we’ve just considered, that is Rom. 15.17–19: In Christ Jesus, then, I have reason to boast of my work for God. For I will not venture to speak of anything except what Christ has accomplished through me to win obedience from the Gentiles, by word and deed, by the power of signs and wonders, by the power of the Spirit of God, so that from Jerusalem and as far around as Illyricum I have fully proclaimed the good news of Christ.

Here, Paul insists that he will limit his boasting to ‘what Christ has accomplished through’ him, adding that this has been achieved ‘by word and deed, by the power of signs and wonders,8 by the power of the Spirit of God’. This description of ministry is similar to the way the Synoptic Gospels depict the ministry of the 7 Cf. discussion in Colin G. Kruse, New Testament Foundations for Ministry, Marshall’s Theological Library (Basingstoke: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1983), 92–93 n.11. 8 Steve Strauss, ‘Missions Theology in Romans 15:14–33’, BSac 160 (2003):  461–62, notes: ‘The phrase “signs and wonders” was the standard Old Testament way of referring to the miracles of the Exodus, and “the expression regularly designates events surrounding the great redemptive acts of God.” ’

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historical Jesus, which was effected by word (preaching of the kingdom of God) and accompanied by signs and wonders and with the power of the Holy Spirit (cf. Lk. 7.22). When Paul describes his ministry as ‘what Christ has accomplished through me’, he is recognizing the involvement of the risen Christ in his ministry.9 The ongoing involvement of the risen Christ in the ministry of his followers is implied in Luke’s reference to ‘all that Jesus began to do and to teach’ in Acts 1.1 (NIV). It implies that what is to follow in his account of the ministry of the early believers is what Jesus continued to do and to teach through them. Romans 15.17–19 also reflects the purpose of Paul’s ministry (‘to win obedience from the Gentiles’), the scope of his activities (‘from Jerusalem and as far around as Illyricum’) and the fundamental nature of that ministry (‘I have fully proclaimed the good news of Christ’). What this last element involved is perhaps best illustrated by Paul’s statement to the Ephesian elders recorded in Acts 20.26– 27: ‘Therefore I declare to you this day that I am not responsible for the blood of any of you, for I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole purpose of God.’ This is involved in the ‘priestly service of the gospel’, in which Paul laboured to ensure that Gentiles became and continued to be an acceptable offering to God, sanctified by the Holy Spirit.

6. Theological defence of the gospel A significant part of Paul’s pastoral ministry was to ensure that distortions of the gospel did not adversely affect believers for whom he felt responsible. That he needed to do so may be inferred from a number of texts. The first of these relates directly to slanderous accusations directed against him: ‘And why not say (as some people slander us by saying that we say), “Let us do evil so that good may come”? Their condemnation is deserved!’ (Rom. 3.8). The apostle was aware that some were saying his preaching encouraged people to ‘do evil so that good may come’,10 as if their falsehood would serve to put God’s truthfulness into sharp relief and so enhance his glory. Paul dismisses the charges made by such people out of hand, exclaiming, ‘Their condemnation is deserved!’ A similar notion underlies a second text: ‘What then are we to say? Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who

9 Longenecker, Romans, 1040, comments: ‘Jesus Christ is the focus of Paul’s message and the agent of all spiritual and personal change: Paul is only the human instrument that God ordained for that day to bring about spiritual and personal change in the lives of nonJewish people.’ 10 Brendan Byrne, Romans, SP 6 (Collegeville:  Liturgical Press, 1996), 110, comments: ‘The charge that surfaces here is clearly one that dogged the preaching of the Pauline gospel – one which he perhaps anticipated rising in the Roman community as his letter was being read.’

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died to sin go on living in it?’ (6.1–2). Paul was responding to criticisms that his gospel encouraged people to ‘continue in sin’ (lit. ‘remain in sin’)11 so that God’s grace might abound all the more and cover their sins. This charge Paul rejects out of hand also, arguing that those who have ‘died to sin’ cannot ‘go on living in sin’. He goes on to explain at some length that those who have been united with Christ through baptism cannot go on living in sin: ‘We have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.’12 Paul’s opponents who regarded the law as the primary deterrent to sinful behaviour claimed that his teaching that believers were no longer under the law as a regulatory norm was an encouragement to sin. A third text constitutes Paul’s response to this charge: ‘Should we sin because we are not under law but under grace? By no means!’ (6.15). Paul also rejected out of hand the insinuation that his teaching provided a licence to sin. Rather, he insisted that freedom from the law also meant freedom from sin, so that people may become slaves of righteousness. He reminds members of his audience of the great change that took place when they became followers of Christ: When you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard to righteousness. So what advantage did you then get from the things of which you now are ashamed? The end of those things is death. But now that you have been freed from sin and enslaved to God, the advantage you get is sanctification. The end is eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. (6.20–23)

Paul’s responses to these distortions of the gospel were all written out of pastoral concern for the Roman believers in the hope that they would recognize their deceptive nature and be encouraged to stand fast in the freedom provided by the gospel. He was contending theologically for the faith of his audience out of his deep pastoral concern for them, even though he had met only a few of them.

7. Theological exhortation It is significant that in Romans, as elsewhere in Paul’s letters, his ethical exhortations are not based upon Mosaic law, as we might expect from one who was 11 N. T. Wright, ‘The Letter to the Romans’, in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 10, ed. Leander E. Keck (Nashville:  Abingdon, 2002), 537, comments:  ‘Of course, to “remain in sin,” in English and for that matter in Greek, will mean to go on committing sin, but Paul is interested here in where one is first and foremost; it is like saying “shall we remain in France,” with the assumption that if one does one will continue to speak French.’ 12 For a discussion of the relationship between baptism, death to sin and new life in Christ, see the additional notes on ‘Baptism in the Pauline Corpus’ and ‘Dying and Rising with Christ’ in Colin G. Kruse, Paul’s Letter to the Romans, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 270–72, 272–79.

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trained as a Pharisee, but rather upon the implications of the gospel itself – what God has done in Christ for the redemption and restoration of humanity. The following will serve as examples of this. a. Exhortations to holy living In 6.1–23, Paul defends his law-free gospel against the charge that it leads to moral anarchy (cf. 3.7–8). He does so by arguing that believers cannot continue in sin, because they died to sin with Christ and now they are alive to God in him (6.1–14), and by pointing out that, at their conversion, they were set free from slavery to sin so as to become slaves of God (6.15–23). These fundamental gospel truths form the basis of his ethical exhortations to his audience not to let sin exercise dominion over them or obey their sinful passions. Instead, they are to present themselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life and as instruments of righteousness (6.13–14). In 7.1–8.13, Paul defends his gospel against charges that it involves a denigration of the law. He argues that those who accept the gospel are free from the law as a regulatory norm, and as they experience new life in the Spirit, they see the ‘just requirement’ of the law fulfilled in their lives (8.1–13). Based on the gospel truths of freedom from the law and new life in the Spirit, Paul reminds his audience that they are no longer debtors to the flesh to live according to the flesh, and encourages them to put to death the deeds of the body by the Spirit (8.12–13). The apostle does not explain what it means, in practice, to put to death the deeds of the body by the Spirit. It may perhaps be understood to involve asking the Holy Spirit, in times of temptation, to produce the fruit of the Spirit in their lives. John Stott said it was his prayer every day that the Spirit of God would produce his fruit in his life. b. An exhortation for Gentile believers In 11.13–32, Paul addresses the Gentile members of his audience directly, exhorting them not to look down upon unbelieving Jews. To support his exhortation, he reminds them that, although some Jews were presently like ‘branches’ broken off from the ‘olive tree’ of God’s people because of unbelief, as Gentile converts they had been ‘grafted in’ through faith and therefore could not afford to be proud. Unbelieving Jews, for their part, could be grafted back onto the ‘olive tree’ if they did not persist in unbelief. Paul’s exhortation to the Roman Gentile believers not to look down on unbelieving Jews, then, was based upon his theological understanding of God’s gospel purposes. c. An exhortation to present oneself to God as a living sacrifice In 12.1, Paul exhorts his audience as follows: ‘I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy

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and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.’ His appeal is based upon the extended theological exposition of ‘the mercies of God’ in preceding chapters, where he expounded and defended the gospel. Presenting themselves to God would involve not conforming to the world but being transformed by the renewing of their minds so as to discern what is the will of God (12.2). What follows in ch. 12 represents what Paul expected to be included in the outworking of the will of God in their lives. They would not think of themselves too highly (12.3) and, as members of the one body, would exercise their differing gifts in accordance with the measure of faith God had assigned them, whether that be in prophesy, ministry, teaching, exhortation, generosity, leadership or acts of compassion (12.4–8). Paul’s exhortation is again theologically grounded, this time by an appeal to the mercies of God revealed in the gospel and the gifts of the Spirit activated in the lives of those who accept the gospel. d. An exhortation to be subject to governing authorities An important matter Paul had to address pastorally for the benefit of his audience was their attitude towards the Roman authorities, in particular their obligation to pay taxes.13 So in 13.1, 7 the apostle exhorts them to ‘be subject to the governing authorities’ and to ‘pay to all what is due them – taxes to whom taxes are due, revenues to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honor whom honor is due’. Paul provides the following theological grounds for this exhortation: (1) the authorities that exist have been instituted by God, and therefore to resist them is to resist God (13.1–2); (2)  the authorities are God’s servants for people’s good – they are no terror to those who do good, but execute God’s wrath on wrongdoers (13.3–5);14 and (3) the authorities are ‘God’s servants, busy with this very thing’ (in this context, the collection of taxes), and for this reason people should pay ‘all what is due to them’, and this includes honour and respect as well as taxes (13.6–7). Once again, Paul’s exhortation is not merely pragmatic advice but is informed by his understanding of the role given to the governing authorities by God. 13 James D.  G. Dunn, Romans 9–16, WBC 38B (Dallas:  Word, 1988), 766, comments:  ‘We know from Tacitus (Ann. 13)  that the year ad 58 saw persistent complaints against the companies farming indirect taxes and the acquisitiveness of tax collectors . . . so that some reform became essential. Presumably these complaints had been building up, or at least the occasion for them, in the years preceding 58, during the period when Romans was written.’ Cf. discussion of occasion, purpose and historical context of 13.1–7 in Longenecker, Romans, 949–55. 14 ‘The good’ (τὸ ἀγαθόν) was understood to mean things that were useful for society, things of worth and social significance; cf. BDAG 3–4 (ἀγαθός §2). Robert Jewett, Romans, Hermeneia (Minneapolis:  Fortress, 2007), 793, comments that ‘the fact that Romans was drafted during a period of exemplary Roman administration led by Seneca and Burrus

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e. Exhortations for ‘the weak’ and ‘the strong’ In 14.1–15.13, Paul addresses two groups in the Roman Christian community: ‘the strong’, made up of predominantly Gentile believers, and ‘the weak’, comprising mainly Jewish believers. There was tension between the two groups in relation to food taboos and calendrical rules. ‘The strong’, who believed that they could eat anything and felt no compunction to observe special days, tended to despise ‘the weak’, who were bound by their scruples in both of these matters. ‘The weak’, on the other hand, tended to pass judgement on ‘the strong’ for their failure to observe these rules and taboos. Paul’s exhortations to these two groups were more than just good advice intended to promote social cohesion. They were based on the theological significance of the gospel itself, which he expected to be formational in the lives of members of his audience. ‘The strong’ must not look down upon ‘the weak’ because of their scruples, and remember that God himself had welcomed them (14.3). Instead, they were to accommodate themselves to the scruples of ‘the weak’. And ‘the weak’ must not pass judgement upon ‘the strong’ because they did not share their scruples, because, Paul says, ‘It is before their own lord that they stand or fall. And they will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make them stand’ (14.4). And addressing both groups, he says: ‘Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? . . . For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God’ (14.10). Paul warned ‘the strong’ that causing ‘the weak’ to stumble by their example would be to ‘cause the ruin of one for whom Christ died’ (14.15). He exhorted them not to become a stumbling block to ‘the weak’ simply ‘for the sake of food’, reminding them that ‘the kingdom of God is not food and drink but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit’ (14.15, 17). Rather than putting a stumbling block in the way of ‘the weak’, Paul said, ‘each of us must please our neighbor for the good purpose of building up the neighbor. For Christ did not please himself; but, as it is written, “The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me” ’ (15.2– 3). Finally, he exhorted both groups to welcome one another, ‘just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God’ (15.7). These five examples reflect the fact that Paul’s pastoral exhortations were grounded in the gospel itself, its ethical implications and this understanding of the way God has ordered this world.

8. Theological encouragement In the process of his exposition and defence of the gospel, Paul drew out its implications to encourage his audience. His encouragements, like his exhortations, augments the likelihood that Paul’s formulation would have resonated positively in Rome. However, before and after that period, Paul’s unqualified formulation that officials punish the bad and praise the good seems far from accurate.’

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were theologically based. There are many places in the letter where the apostle does this, drawing out, for example, the significance for his audience of the love of God for them (5.8–11), the fact that God has adopted them as his children (8.14–17) and the role of the Spirit in their lives (8.26–27). As a prime example of the way Paul employed theology for pastoral encouragement, we may point to his application of the doctrine of justification by faith to the needs of his audience. In ch. 4, Paul explains how Abraham was justified by faith. In 4.3, he asks: ‘For what does the scripture say?’ and provides the answer: ‘Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness.’ And then in 4.23–25, he encourages his audience with this assurance: ‘Now the words, “it was reckoned to him,” were written not for his sake alone, but for ours also. It will be reckoned to us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead, who was handed over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification.’ In what follows in 5.1–5, Paul draws out the benefits of justification: peace with God, a standing in God’s grace and the hope of sharing the glory of God. These things would enable them to endure suffering, for under God’s good hand it would produce endurance, character and a hope that would not disappoint them, because God’s love had been poured into their hearts by the Holy Spirit. Paul’s understanding of the experience of justification is best expressed in the climactic statements of 8.31–39. In this passage, the apostle asks: ‘If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else?’ (8.31–32). What this involves is then teased out in the words: ‘Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies’ (8.33). Believers may be sure that God will entertain no charges against those whom he has justified, whether such charges emanate from Satan, ‘the accuser of our comrades’ (Rev. 12.10), others who find fault or even their own overscrupulous consciences. To drive home the great encouragement the doctrine of justification affords believers, Paul adds:  ‘Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us’ (Rom. 8.34). As God will entertain no charges brought against those whom he has justified, neither will Christ condemn them. For he has died for them, thus dealing with their sins once and for all, and he is now seated at the right hand of God, where he intercedes for them. All this leads Paul to celebrate the experience of justification in the well-known words: ‘I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord’ (8.38–39).

9. The challenge The outstanding feature of Paul’s pastoral ministry, as it is reflected in his letter to the Romans, is the extent to which is flows out of and reflects his theological

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understanding of what God has done in Christ for the salvation of humankind, and the implications of that for believers. The challenge for us who seek to minister to God’s people today is to likewise engage in ‘the priestly ministry of the gospel’, trusting in the accompanying work of the Holy Spirit to sanctify his people so that they become and continue to be acceptable ‘living sacrifices’ well pleasing to God. It is also a challenge for us to ground our exhortations and encouragements in the solid foundation of the theology of the gospel. This is not to deny the importance of Christian counselling, but to ensure that we do not shortchange people by failing to draw their attention to what God has done and continues to do for them, especially through the ministry of the indwelling Holy Spirit.

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Chapter 4 P AU L’ S P A ST O R A L S E N SI T I V I T Y I N 1 C O R I N T H IA N S Matthew R. Malcolm

1. Introduction There is no question that in 1 Corinthians, Paul is in evidence as a shepherd who is ready to use his staff to discipline the flock (1 Cor. 4.21), while also ready to lay down his life for them (9.15; 15.31). Direct shepherding imagery is largely absent, but this and other themes of pastoral oversight abound. One striking element is the way in which Paul utilizes Scripture in order to care for the Christian development of his hearers. Paul intriguingly warns his Corinthian correspondents of their unwitting likeness to ‘the rulers of this age’ (2.6, 8; 4.8; 15.24). He warns them that such rulers are doomed to destruction, and urges the Corinthians to rethink their own identity and lifestyle in light of the cross. But how does he arrive at this application of a broad scriptural theme to his hearers? The scriptural theme does not arise from an obvious singular Old Testament text, and the application to the congregation does not follow from a straightforward glance at their makeup, given that ‘not many were of noble birth’ (1.26). This creative pastoral exhortation can only arise from meditative sensitivity to both the Scriptures and the Corinthians’ own situation. Paul’s rumination on the Scriptures enables him to crystallize a potent theme: ‘the rulers of this age’. His rumination on the Corinthians’ situation enables him to apply this theme surprisingly and penetratingly:  ‘I wish that you really were reigning, so that we might reign with you’ (4.8). We find here, then, a fascinating insight into the pastoral sensitivity of the apostle. Could this also be a model for our own application of Scripture to Christian congregations? We will consider, in turn, Paul’s rumination on Scripture, Paul’s rumination on Corinth and the nature of Paul as pastor.

2. Ruminating on Scripture Our exploration of Paul’s rumination on Scripture in 1 Corinthians will need to engage the current lively scholarly discussion of his use of Scripture more broadly.

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a. Paul’s use of Scripture: Citation, allusion, echo One of the features of scholarly discussion of Paul’s use of Scripture is the attempt to analyze and classify the places at which the Hebrew Scriptures can be heard in his writings: What constitutes a citation? What constitutes an allusion? What constitutes an echo? For example, Steve Moyise writes: ‘An explicit quotation occurs when an author clearly indicates that the words that follow are not his or her own but are taken from another source.’1 Stanley Porter points out that the terminology used among scholars to describe different sorts of scriptural evocation is not consistent. Porter himself proposes the five categories of ‘formulaic quotation; direct quotation; paraphrase; allusion; and echo’.2 The simple fact that different sorts of scriptural evocation occur in Paul is itself worth noting. In applying this feature of study to 1 Corinthians, one might ask: At what points, and for what possible reasons, do we find different sorts of scriptural evocation? Are explicit citations, for example, more prevalent in particular parts of Paul’s letter?3 We could consider 1 Cor. 1.10–4.21 as a brief case study. I have examined the flow of 1 Corinthians elsewhere, and in focusing on chs 1–4, I noted, ‘Each of [the] first three subunits ends with a frank application to the recipients themselves – immediately following an appeal to Scripture: (I) 2.1–5; (II) 3.1–4; (III) 4.1–5.’4 To expand on this observation, I would suggest that Paul is most explicit and formalized in his Scriptural intertexts here when he is justifying or sealing a point crucial to a development in his persuasive argument. That is, in this densely theological unit, he does not begin with Scripture and present an interpretation of his text, and he does not explicitly include Scripture in his direct spelling out of specific application for the recipients. Rather, Scripture is explicitly cited in order to ‘clinch’ major theological points in the movement between appeal and application. In Table 1, I draw attention to the most undeniable ‘citations’ of Scripture, generally introduced by the formula ‘it is written’. But of course this is not the extent of Paul’s interaction with Scripture in this section: it surfaces in what different scholars might label ‘echoes’ or ‘allusions’ at various points. For example, the ‘rulers of this age’ may evoke the famous ‘rulers’ of 1 Steve Moyise, ‘Quotations’, in As It Is Written:  Studying Paul’s Use of Scripture, ed. Stanley E. Porter and Christopher D. Stanley, SBL Symposium 50 (Atlanta:  SBL Press, 2008), 15–28 (quote 15). 2 Stanley E. Porter, ‘Allusions and Echoes’, in Porter and Stanley, As It Is Written, 29–40 (quote 29). 3 Christopher Stanley answers this question: ‘Quotations are scattered throughout the letter; they are not limited to a particular part of the argument . . . The decision to include a quotation from the Jewish Scriptures seems to have been motivated in every case by the rhetorical needs of the argument’; Christopher D. Stanley, Arguing with Scripture: The Rhetoric of Quotations in the Letters of Paul (London: T&T Clark, 2004), 78. 4 Matthew R. Malcolm, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reversal: The Impact of Paul’s Gospel on His Macro-Rhetoric, SNTSMS 155 (Cambridge: University Press, 2013), 49.

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Table 1 Explicit Citations of Scripture in 1 Corinthians 1–4 Subunit

Section

I: 1.10– 2.5: God’s cross and human wisdom

1.10–17: Appeal, leading to theological point: God’s cross undermines human wisdom 1.18–25:  Justification of theological point regarding God’s wisdom and human strength

Explicit Use of Scripture

Explicit citation, with formula, at beginning:  ‘I will destroy the wisdom of the wise’

1.26–31:  Concluding illustration from expe- Explicit citation, with formula, rience that God undermines and transcends at end: ‘Let the one who boasts, human wisdom boast in the Lord’ 2.1–5: Frank application to hearers II: 2.6– 3.4: God’s Spirit and human capability

2.6–10: New point regarding the apostles’ access Explicit citation, with formula, at to God’s wisdom end: ‘What no eye has seen’ 2.10–16:  Concluding development of point: those who are of the Spirit will perceive the message of those who speak from the Spirit

Explicit citation, with ‘for’, at end:  ‘For who has known the mind of the Lord’

3.1–4: Frank application to hearers III: 3.5– 4.5: God’s work and human authority

3.5–9: New point regarding Paul and Apollos as God’s workers 3.10–17:  Development of theological point: God’s builders and God’s attestation 3.18–23:  Concluding development of point regarding Paul and Apollos

Explicit citation, with formula, at end: ‘He catches the wise in their craftiness’

4.1–5: Frank application to hearers IV: 4.6–17/21: God’s ways and human boasting

4.6–7: New disclosure of the overall point being made: Why boast as if you did not receive? 4.8–13:  Pathos-laden contrast between the deathly life of the apostles and the aspirations of the Corinthians 4.14–17/21: Frank application to hearers

Psalm 2; the wisdom of God that is hidden from rulers may evoke the same themes in Dan. 2.19–23; and various other evocations might be discerned, with varying rhetorical functions. The point here is simply that explicit citations seem to occur most frequently in supporting or clinching theological points, which themselves occur in the service of hortatory appeals. b. Paul’s use of Scripture: Narrative, motif, substructure Many have found it fruitful to move beyond the identification of citations and allusions and consider the interaction of Paul’s writings with themes, motifs and broad narratives of the Hebrew Scriptures. It is hotly debated whether or not Paul

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expected his hearers to be able to identify and resonate with non-explicit scriptural citations, or hints at underlying scriptural narratives. Were Paul’s (largely functionally illiterate?) audiences expected to find subtle allusions accessible and compelling? Is Paul’s argumentation compelling without the recovery of proposed scriptural substructures?5 Drawing on the work of Richard Hays and others, N.  T. Wright finds in the Pharisees a ‘complex but essentially single narrative’6 of God’s faithful relationship with his people, which finds development in Paul: Paul’s worldview had a strongly implicit and frequently explicit narrative. Or rather, like most mature narratives, Paul’s worldview had a set of underlying stories whose tendency to interlock and overlap is not a weakness, but rather a sign that, as with a good novel or play, the subplots and secondary narratives not only illustrate but materially effect key moments and key transitions in the main plot.7

My own perspective is that those who see in Paul a rhetorically compelling use of subtly marked scriptural motifs and broad narratives are on the right track. This direction of research need not be stymied by questions regarding the literacy of the letters’ recipients, because Paul’s reading of scriptural motifs and themes is constantly renegotiated in the light of his gospel of Jesus Christ – an interpretative anchor and lens with which he insists his hearers become familiar. In relation to the known gospel, the unknown (or ‘previously known’) Scriptures may be entered into, for ‘literate’ and ‘illiterate’ alike. To simplify: his hearers know his gospel, and his gospel directs and illuminates his appropriation of the Scriptures. Thus Paul’s Scripture-drenched rhetoric ‘works’ for hearers with a range of literacy, because the key to his use of Scripture is his belief that it finds its climax in his gospel of Jesus Christ. There is no need to expect every motif or narrative drawn upon by Paul to be already understood by the majority of his hearers, but the fact that his gospel is explicitly expressed using Old Testament language and categories (Rom. 1.1–4; 1 Cor. 15.3–5) indicates that it would be naïve to place Pauline Christians in a simple category of biblical ‘illiteracy’. Francis Watson rightly states that ‘it is essential for Paul both that his gospel is attested by scripture and that it is itself the hermeneutical key to scripture . . . Paul’s appeal to scriptural narrative . . . aims to show how the narratives in their different ways attest this or that aspect of the gospel.’8 5 See the discussions in Christopher D. Stanley, ‘What We Learned  – and What We Didn’t’, in Paul and Scripture: Extending the Conversation, ed. Christopher D. Stanley, ECL 9 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2012), 321–30; and Bruce W. Longenecker, ‘Narrative Interest in the Study of Paul:  Retrospective and Prospective’, in Narrative Dynamics in Paul:  A  Critical Assessment, ed. Bruce W. Longenecker (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2002), 3–16. 6 N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, COQG 4 (London: SPCK, 2013), 77. 7 Ibid., 461. 8 Francis Watson, ‘Is There a Story in These Texts?’, in Longenecker, Narrative Dynamics, 231–39 (quote 234–35).

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Turning again to 1 Corinthians 1–4, then, it could be pointed out that the ‘rulers of this age’ represent a gospel motif: they represent those who ‘crucified the Lord of glory’ (2.8). This motif can be grasped by those of varying literacy who identify themselves in some way in relation to Paul’s gospel. It can be further elucidated by looking to the Scriptures that bear witness to Paul’s gospel, the Scriptures that Paul draws upon in expressing his gospel. It may in fact be that this crystallized scriptural motif is of greater significance than Paul’s explicit scriptural citations for understanding the overall force of the unit. Indeed, given that Paul’s explicit citations do not set the pace in chs 1–4, but rather justify developments in the argument, it is quite conceivable that there might be other levels of scriptural intertextuality that are more significant for the directions he sets. With regard to chs 5–7, Brian Rosner writes: In spite of the relatively few quotations of Scripture in Paul’s ethics and other indications to the contrary . . ., the Scriptures are nevertheless a crucial and formative source for Paul’s ethics . . . The results of our research indicate that in 1 Corinthians 5–7 at least the debt to Scripture is much greater than has often been supposed.9

Similarly, I suggest that Scripture has a more fundamental place than is sometimes recognized in relation to Paul’s argumentation in 1 Corinthians 1–4, because it supplies and elucidates the imagery of the boastful ‘rulers of this age’ to whom the Corinthians are compared. These rulers are a recurring motif of wisdom and apocalyptic literature, epitomizing the world in opposition to God and his anointed:10 The kings of the earth stand in resistance, and the rulers conspire together against the Lord and against his anointed. (Ps. 2.2) ‘You [Belshazzar] have exalted yourself against the Lord God of heaven!’ (Dan. 5.23) Give ear, you who rule over many and boast over the multitudes of the nations! Your rule was given to you by the Lord . . . [H]e will come upon you, because severe judgement comes to those in positions of authority. (Wis. 6.1–5)

I would suggest that, in fact, this gospel motif of the ‘rulers of this age’ in 1 Corinthians 1–4 underlies and makes sense of the passages of Scripture that are explicitly cited, many of which add nuance to the picture of these ignorant (2.8), this-worldly (1.20, 28; 2.12; 3.19), emphatically human (1.25; 2.5, 13; 3.4; 4.3) rulers (2.6, 8), who are doomed to destruction (1.18; 2.6; cf. 15.24–26): ‘I will destroy the wisdom of the wise’ (1.19, citing Isa. 29.14) ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord’ (1.31, citing Jer. 9.22) 9 Brian S. Rosner, Paul, Scripture, & Ethics:  A  Study of 1 Corinthians 5–7, Biblical Studies Library (orig. 1994; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999), 24. 10 For many more examples, see Malcolm, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reversal, ch. 1.

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Matthew R. Malcolm ‘What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived’ (2.9, specific sources debated) ‘For who has known the mind of the Lord, so as to instruct him?’ (2.16, citing Isa. 40.13) ‘He catches the wise in their craftiness’ . . . ‘The Lord knows the thoughts of the wise, that they are futile.’ (3.19–20, citing Job 5.13 and Ps. 93.11)

c. Paul’s use of Scripture: Intertextuality and rhetorical function Recently, Stanley Porter has drawn attention to the significance of ‘intertextuality’ at levels beyond discernible citation, allusion or narrative substructure.11 That is, it should be recognized that there is a sense in which all texts are pastiches of intertexts, and thus Paul’s letters can be brought into discussion with a great range of other legitimate texts in considering multiple levels of meaning. More important than the question, What texts does Paul use? then, is the question, What rhetorical impacts follow from notable intertextual junctures? To continue our consideration of 1 Corinthians 1–4, it is worth noting that the motif of the ‘rulers of this age’ is built up from an assortment of intertexts throughout the various stages of Paul’s argument in these chapters, not being limited to those sections in which explicit citations are found. Paul paints a familiar, yet non– text-specific picture of the boastful, ignorant, doomed enemies of God. It seems that the rhetorical function of this picture is that it offers an idealized foil for the oppressed, weak, suffering, cruciform figure of Christ and his apostles. For those who know Paul’s gospel, it provides a formidable nemesis for the gospel’s protagonist. For those who furthermore know Paul’s Scriptures, it engages the memories of many who resisted the Lord and his people, whether Pharaoh, Sisera, Goliath, Nebuchadnezzar or Antiochus Epiphanes. The Corinthian recipients are thus faced with an image from which they will recoil – the oppressive and doomed ruler – yet which Paul seems to insist they are themselves associated with. The effect is to create tense dissonance that demands resolution. d. Paul’s use of Scripture: Reappropriation and renegotiation It might be noticed that in the account of Paul’s appropriation of Scripture that is being developed here, scriptural categories are entertained by Paul in a manner that transcends their initial force. This exemplifies another feature of recent scholarly consideration of Paul and Scripture: Paul continually ‘reappropriates’ or ‘renegotiates’ Scripture in the light of his gospel of Jesus Christ.12

11 International Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, 2014. 12 See, for example, Matthew R. Malcolm, ed., All That the Prophets Have Declared: The Appropriation of Scripture in the Emergence of Christianity (Milton Keynes:  Paternoster,

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Thus the Scriptures that Paul springs from in expressing and understanding the Christ event are themselves transfigured by that event, which now serves as their surprisingly intended destination. With regard to 1 Corinthians 1–4, it seems that the gospel events concerning Christ have suggested to Paul the possibility that the scriptural motif of the boastful, human, condemned ‘ruler of this age’ might serve as a crystallization of humanity in ignorant, defiant denial of the God of the cross. This might be thought of as gospel-minded rumination on the Scriptures of a sort that can also be found in Acts 4, where the Jerusalem apostles are depicted as engaged in the same practice: in the light of the Christ event, they reread the boastful rulers of Psalm 2 as prefiguring those who powerfully oppose the gospel, whether Herod, Pilate, the high-priestly family of Caiaphas or other Jews or Gentiles.13 What is rhetorically shocking in 1 Corinthians is that this gospel-distilled motif of the doomed enemy is on the verge of being applied to Christians. e. Summary: Paul’s gospel-motivated rumination on Scripture To summarize where we have come: in 1 Corinthians 1–4, Paul fundamentally sets the gospel-renegotiated pastiche of the condemned boastful ruler against the cross of God’s anointed. In developing his argumentation, Paul makes use of explicit scriptural citations in order to clinch or seal certain theological points. What we will see in the next section is that Paul’s rumination on the scriptural theme of the ‘rulers of this age’ combines with his rumination on the particular flavour of Christian spirituality in Corinth, to result in a devastating pastoral critique.

3. Ruminating on the congregation It has already been noted that Paul’s application of the motif of the ‘rulers of this age’ to the Corinthians would have had the rhetorical impact of raising tension for the recipients. This needs to be explored further. If we are to believe him, that ‘not many’ of the recipients were of noble birth – or even considered anything in their society (1.26–28) – then what is the force of his reminding them that God’s power is not found in human strength? What is the force of his forbidding them to boast? What 2015), in which various contributors make this point. See also Brian S. Rosner, Paul and the Law:  Keeping the Commandments of God, NSBT 31 (Nottingham:  Apollos; Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 2013), in which Rosner argues that, in the light of the Christ event, Paul reappropriates law as prophecy or wisdom. 13 Of course, the theme would also evoke the image of Roman Imperial rulers for many of Paul’s recipients. For a recent discussion of this topic, see Frederick J. Long, ‘“The God of This Age” (2 Cor 4:4) and Paul’s Empire-Resisting Gospel at Corinth’, in The First Urban Churches 2: Roman Corinth, ed. James R. Harrison and L. L. Welborn, WGRWSup 8 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016), 219–70.

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is the force of his insistence that the ‘rulers of this age’ are doomed to perish? What is the force of his insistence that ‘none of the rulers of this age understood’ God’s wisdom? What is the force of his reminder that these rulers are those who ‘crucified the Lord of glory’? What is the force of his accusation that the Corinthians are acting as ‘humans’, or that ‘human’ hearts have not perceived the things of God, or that Paul will not be judged by a ‘human’ day of judgement? What is the force of Paul’s ironic denunciation of would-be kingship, or his exasperated sarcasm in wishing ‘that you really had become kings’? Given that the recipients were clearly not ‘rulers of this age’, how would this have hit them? And what leads Paul to use this scriptural motif in writing to them? The answer is found in Paul’s creative rumination on the spiritual state of the community. a. Situation in Corinth Scholars are now largely agreed that the problems in Corinth behind the letter were quite varied. Scholarship in the first half of the twentieth century tended to point to Gnosticism as a system underlying the various problems in Corinth, but this view is now almost absent. Some scholars see no significant relationship between the different problems evidenced in the Corinthian community: they are simply a range of issues that came to Paul’s attention through oral or epistolary reports.14 But many others hold that Paul assigns a certain unity to the range of Corinthian problems he identifies by configuring them as expressions of a common predicament. That is, while the problems might have arisen without selfevident dependence on one another, Paul responds to them in such a way that betrays his determination that they possess a certain commonality. What is this commonality? It is at this point that summarizing scholarly perspectives becomes complex, as different readers have encapsulated facets of the

14 So Joseph Fitzmyer comments, ‘The order of topics is dictated almost certainly by the sequence of topics that have come to Paul’s attention in the reports about the scandals in the Corinthian community and by the questions sent to him in its letter’; Joseph A. Fitzmyer, First Corinthians:  A  New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AYB 32 (New Haven:  Yale University Press, 2008), 55. Dieter Zeller warns that one should not expect a singular theme to arise from such a complex situation; Dieter Zeller, Der erste Brief an die Korinther, KEK 5 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010), 48. Raymond Collins doubts ‘whether it is legitimate to expect perfect unity in a composition that is truly a letter’; Raymond F. Collins, ‘Reflections on 1 Corinthians as a Hellenistic Letter’, in The Corinthian Correspondence, ed. Reimund Bieringer, BETL 125 (Leuven: University Press, 1996), 39–61, esp. 60. Pheme Perkins labels the letter a ‘checklist division of topics’; Pheme Perkins, First Corinthians, Paideia (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012), 25. C. K. Robertson warns that ‘an exegetical danger’ arises when a single system is said to underlie all of the Corinthians problems, given that the first-century Corinthian community was not ‘unifaceted’; C. K. Robertson, Conflict in Corinth: Redefining the System (New York: Lang, 2001), 81.

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suspected commonality using different imagery and terminology. I think it would be fair to say that most readers would be willing to affirm a common pastorally perceived predicament something like the following: Believers immersed in the culture of Roman Corinth evidence a proud, divisive spirit in their lack of holiness and in their prematurely triumphant spirituality. Different readers would emphasize different elements of that predicament:  some would emphasize the cultural setting of the problems,15 some would emphasize the pride,16 some would emphasize the division,17 some would emphasize the lack of holiness,18 some would emphasize the premature triumphalism19 and some would emphasize the nature of the spirituality.20 It is clear that, however we emphasize the different elements of this predicament, Paul regards their situation as a betrayal of the cross of Christ. This emerges throughout the letter in relation to different specific issues. When they divide over wisdom, he cautions that they are emptying the cross of its power (1.17); when they proudly indulge immorality, he reminds them that their Passover lamb has been sacrificed (5.7); when they eat in idol temples, Paul warns that they are destroying the weak for whom Christ died (8.11); when they humiliate each other at the Lord’s Supper, Paul recalls that this celebration proclaims the Lord’s death (11.26). When they seek to distinguish themselves from one another with spiritual manifestations, he pictures them as the suffering body of Christ (12.26–27). When they deny the resurrection of the dead, he reiterates that Christ died and then rose (15.3–5).

15 So Bruce W. Winter, ‘The ‘Underlays’ of Conflict and Compromise in 1 Corinthians’, in Paul and the Corinthians: Studies on a Community in Conflict, ed. Trevor J. Burke and J. Keith Elliott, NovTSup 109 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 139–55; David G. Horrell, The Social Ethos of the Corinthian Correspondence: Interests and Ideology from 1 Corinthians to 1 Clement (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996). 16 See my analysis of John Chrysostom’s sense of the Corinthian problems: ‘ “That God May Be All in All”: The Glory of God in 1 Corinthians’, in The Wisdom of the Cross: Exploring 1 Corinthians, ed. Brian S. Rosner (Nottingham: Apollos, 2011), 201–18. 17 So Margaret M. Mitchell, Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation:  An Exegetical Investigation of the Language and Composition of 1 Corinthians (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox, 1991). 18 So Roy E. Ciampa and Brian S. Rosner, The First Letter to the Corinthians, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010). 19 So Anthony C. Thiselton, ‘Realized Eschatology at Corinth’, NTS 24 (1978): 510–26; Zeller, Der erste Brief. 20 So James A. Davis, Wisdom and Spirit:  An Investigation of 1 Corinthians 1:18– 3:20 Against the Background of Jewish Sapiential Traditions in the Greco-Roman Period (Lanham:  University Press of America, 1984); David A. Ackerman, Lo, I  Tell You a Mystery:  Cross, Resurrection, and Paraenesis in the Rhetoric of 1 Corinthians, PTMS 24 (Eugene: Pickwick, 2006).

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b. A Tactical Solution How, then, does Paul respond to this pastorally perceived predicament? This brings us back to his rumination on Scripture. Those believers who evidence a proud, divisive spirit in their lack of holiness and in their prematurely triumphant spirituality appear to remind Paul of those idealized scriptural figures who previously evidenced proud, unholy triumphalism and who have now become epitomized in the enemies who crucified Christ. It seems that in Paul’s creative imagination, the Corinthians, despite lacking noble birth, are unwittingly aligning their aspirations with the rulers of this age rather than with the Christ, who is known in the humiliating weakness of the cross. Paul’s gospel-minded rumination on the Scriptures combines with his gospel-minded rumination on the predicament of the community, and he chooses to shock them by effectively saying: You are about as Christian as Pontius Pilate. They may not have the money or the nobility or the power, but their attitudes and aspirations are, in Paul’s eyes, dangerously in sync with the rulers of the age.21 One is tempted to ask whether those of us who find gratifying weight in our association with this or that scholar or pastor might have the same surprising accusation levelled against us. If we find ourselves pleasing others by saying, ‘I belong to Tom Wright’, or ‘I’m on Don Carson’s side’, or ‘I’m with John Piper’, might Paul shock us by lumping us with the ‘rulers of this age’ who proudly seek to enhance their present status through self-bolstering tactics? But to explore this further would be to go beyond the bounds of this chapter. Paul uses the image of the ‘rulers of this age’ as an idealized opposite of the cross of Christ in order to jolt the Corinthians into reconsidering their spiritual orientation. Of course, this does not exhaust Paul’s response to the Corinthian predicament, but it is an element worth noticing. It is particularly worth noticing because Paul employs this imagery at the beginning and the end of his letter. At the beginning he insists that the rulers who crucified the Lord of glory are doomed to perish. And at the end we see this fate enacted, as the risen Jesus finally destroys every ruler and authority and power (15.24).22 Those who have joined them, one concludes, will share their fate, while those who have joined the crucified Christ will share his resurrected glory. c. Summary: Paul’s gospel-minded rumination on the community To summarize:  Paul has engaged in gospel-minded rumination on the various problems that he sees besetting the Corinthian community of Christians. He 21 For an examination of ways in which poor people in Corinthian associations might have been tempted to align themselves with their wealthier neighbours, see James R. Harrison, ‘Paul and the Agōnothetai at Corinth: Engaging the Civic Values of Antiquity’, in Harrison and Welborn, The First Urban Churches 2, 271–326. 22 This observation alone might make one question Fitzmyer’s view (n.14 above) that the arrangement of the letter is unplanned.

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assigns to them a degree of commonality, as betrayals of the cross of Christ. Like the ‘rulers of this age’, these believers immersed in the culture of Roman Corinth evidence a proud, divisive spirit in their lack of holiness and in their prematurely triumphant spirituality. In the opening chapters, he thus provocatively aligns their attitudes and aspirations with this gospel motif of the condemned boastful ruler, in order to prompt them to reconsider their orientation and rather become imitators of the cruciform Christ and his apostles.

4. Paul as pastor It should be kept in mind that 1 Corinthians is not one of Paul’s ‘weekly sermons’! It is an instance of ‘special occasion’ pastoring, requiring significant time, expense and energy to bring to completion, on the occasion of a potential turning point for the church. It might be that the deep rumination on Scripture and on Corinth exhibited here evidences an awareness of the gravity of that situation. While not overburdening today’s pastors with a need to develop the depth of rumination that Paul exhibits in 1 Corinthians for every weekly sermon, then, it is still worth considering and learning from Paul’s approach. I want to draw attention to three features of Paul’s pastoral approach that have emerged here. First, Paul engages in gospel-minded rumination on the Scriptures. He frequently considers the Old Testament Scriptures with a view to their culmination in his gospel of Jesus Christ. This enables themes to emerge that transcend boundaries between books and eras. In particular, the motif of the ‘ruler of this age’ emerges as an idealized figure who opposes the cross of Christ. This sort of gospel-minded rumination on the Scriptures seems to me to be a fruitful endeavour for Christian pastors, whose task involves teaching ‘the sacred [Old Testament] writings that are able to instruct you for salvation through faith in Jesus Christ’ (2 Tim. 3.15). Second, Paul engages in gospel-minded rumination on the congregation. He doesn’t simply take the community’s problems at face value and offer corrective exhortations. He meditates on what lies beneath the issues of quarrelling, immorality, eating, drinking, praying, prophesying and resurrection-denying. More than this, he meditates on how these problems relate to his gospel of the crucified Christ. This sort of gospel-minded rumination on the congregation seems to me to be a fruitful endeavour for Christian pastors, whose task involves jealously presenting the congregation ‘as a chaste virgin to Christ’ (2 Cor. 11.2). Third, Paul engages in loving provocation. Just as Nathan uses a provocative image of a rich shepherd in confronting David, and God uses a provocative image of a chaotic vineyard in correcting Israel, and Jesus uses the provocative image of banished wedding guests in teaching his hearers, so Paul uses the provocative image of ‘rulers of this age’ in order to challenge his hearers to take stock of their proud, divisive, unholy, prematurely triumphalistic spirituality. He is insistent that he does this not to shame them, but to admonish them as beloved children (1 Cor. 4.14).

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It seems to me that while this use of provocative imagery should certainly not be delivered from afar on a regular basis, it may sometimes prove particularly penetrating, coming from a pastor who is pierced with sacrificial love for the sheep under their care. Here, then, are three features of pastoring that we can see exemplified by Paul in 1 Corinthians:  gospel-minded rumination on the Scriptures, gospel-minded rumination on the congregation and, when necessary, loving provocation out of jealousy for Christ.

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Chapter 5 P AU L A S P A S T O R I N 2 C O R I N T H IA N S Paul Barnett

The title of this chapter does not sit squarely with the text of the epistle. Paul does not employ ‘shepherd’ imagery in the letter, and he is addressing a church situation that is dissimilar to that faced by modern pastors. Second Corinthians is not a straightforward manual for modern pastoral ministry, yet, as I hope to show, it does have important insights.1 Basically, that situation consisted of two overlapping problems.2 The first was a long-standing one: many of the Corinthians were suspicious of Paul and disliked his style of ministry, including his approach to church discipline. The second was a new problem created by the arrival of a counter-mission with a different Christology, whose preachers sought to capture the loyalty of the church away 1 This chapter is based on the assumption of the unity of the canonical 2 Corinthians. For extended surveys of the literary integrity of 2 Corinthians, see Murray J. Harris, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians, NIGTC (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 2005), 8–51. In defence of its unity, see Ivar Vegge, 2 Corinthians: A Letter about Reconciliation: A Psychag ogical, Epistolographical and Rhetorical Analysis, WUNT 2/239 (Tübingen:  Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 12–34; and for the contra view, see L. L. Welborn, An End to Enmity: Paul and the ‘Wrongdoer’ in Second Corinthians (Berlin:  de Gruyter, 2011), xix–xxii, for advocacy of a partition theory. Welborn goes so far as to say that ‘the composition of 2 Corinthians is so problematic that the unity of 2 Corinthians must be regarded as a hypothesis in need of demonstration’ (xix). Welborn thinks there were five original letters that were later combined as our 2 Corinthians. However, James D. G. Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 835, strikes a fatal blow against partition theories: My only problem is with envisaging the situation and motivation which caused some anonymous collector or editor to chop off the introductions and conclusions to each letter and simply to stick the torsos together in such an awkward way as to raise the questions which the various amalgamation hypotheses are designed to resolve. Why not retain them as complete letters? 2 For a survey of Paul’s relationship with the Corinthians, see Paul W. Barnett, The Corinthian Question:  Why Did the Church Oppose Paul? (Leicester:  InterVarsity Press, 2011). According to the surviving letters, there were three visits, although Acts mentions

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from Paul (2 Cor. 11.4). The setting of the letter is that Paul faced local opposition and newly arrived opposition. To complicate matters, Paul was on the brink of permanently leaving the Aegean region.3 Soon he was to accompany the collection of money from congregations in four Roman provinces to Jerusalem, and from there proceed to Rome. Second Corinthians is written against the imminence of Paul’s ‘third’ and final visit (13.1; cf. 2.3). Paul wrote from Macedonia in c. 56, probably from Berea.4 Timothy was the co-sender (1.1) and Titus, who was to bring the letter (8.16–18), would also have contributed to its composition.5 Reading a little between the lines, we may identify two outcomes that Paul sought to achieve through the letter. One was to secure reconciliation between Paul and the Corinthians that would result in them completing their contributions to the collection. The other was for them to recognize the rival countermissionaries as false apostles. The length of the letter and its passionate language reveal how deeply Paul felt about those presenting issues. In brief terms, Paul’s deep concern was that this church, which had occupied so much of his time and energy, should remain part of the Pauline mission and continue to hold to his teachings. So, how did Paul go about achieving these outcomes?

1. The local issue: Hostility to Paul Events in the previous two years had soured the Corinthians’ relationships with Paul.

only two. Interspersed between the three visits were four letters (assuming 2 Corinthians was a single letter). Visit 1 Letter 1 (‘previous’) Letter 2 (our 1 Corinthians) Visit 2 (‘painful’) Letter 3 (‘tearful’) Letter 4 (our 2 Corinthians) Visit 3

Acts 18.1–18 1 Cor. 5.9 2 Cor. 2.1 2 Cor. 2.3–4; 7.8, 12; 10.8–11 Acts 20.2–3

3 Claudius died in October 54, making it possible for Paul the Jew to go at last to Rome. According to F. F. Bruce, New Testament History (Bristol: Oliphants, 1971), 283, Claudius’s expulsion of Jews from Rome became a ‘dead letter’ after the acclamation of Nero Caesar. 4 Barnett, The Corinthian Question, 196. 5 See E. Randolph Richards, Paul and First-Century Letter Writing (Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 2004), 32–36, for discussion about the involvement with Paul of various co-authors.

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Various reports from Corinth near the beginning of AD 55 brought to Paul’s notice a cluster of problems in the church:  their factionalism based on visiting leaders, their belief that they had outgrown Paul, a sharpened stratification between rich and poor, their disorderly behaviour in church meetings, the disbelief by some in the resurrection of the body and, in particular, their failure to discipline a singularly immoral member, whom some scholars believe was wealthy and powerful.6 Paul wrote what we call 1 Corinthians to address these matters and sent Timothy to monitor the Corinthians’ compliance. So far as we can see, as Paul feared, significant numbers of the congregation did not respect Timothy or fall into line with Paul’s letter (cf. 1 Cor. 16.10–11; 4.17).7 Accordingly, it was necessary for Paul to make an unscheduled visit to Corinth, where, it appears, he was ‘caused pain’ and ‘wronged’ (2 Cor. 2.5; 7.12), perhaps by the immoral man.8 From every perspective, the visit – Paul’s second, five years since his first founding visit  – was a failure. Paul failed to persuade either the church or the offender over the matter. He refers to this visit as ‘painful’ (2.1). On his return to Ephesus, Paul decided not to return in the short term to Corinth (as he had said he would, 1.15), but to do so after a lengthy journey of encouragement through Macedonia, for which he sent Timothy on ahead (Acts 19.21–22). Meanwhile, from Ephesus he wrote what he calls a ‘letter written in tears’ (now lost) to the Corinthians (2 Cor. 2.4; 7.8), which he dispatched by his colleague Titus. The combined effect of Paul’s non-return and the appearance instead of a junior colleague bearing a tough letter stirred up a strong reaction in Corinth. True, it secured a measure of repentance from the man who had wronged Paul, so that he now called on the church to reinstate him (2.5–11). Yet it seems that a minority of the church still supported the man against Paul (2.6). As well, a sarcastic critic or critics, reflecting on Paul’s ineffective second visit and the forthright letter he wrote instead of returning, were saying, ‘His letters are weighty and strong, but his bodily presence is weak and his speech is beneath contempt’ (10.10, my translation). Furthermore, at that second visit Paul was confronted by a group of noisily unrepentant Corinthians (12.21; 13.2). We conclude, therefore, that Paul’s relationships with this church were seriously impaired between AD 55–56. True, there would have been many, even a majority (2.6), who remained faithful to Paul. Nevertheless, relationships during those

6 John K. Chow, Patronage and Power: A Study of Social Networks in Corinth, JSNT 75 (Sheffield: Academic Press, 1992), 130–40. 7 I am treating ἔπεμψα in 1 Cor. 4.17 as an epistolary aorist, ‘I am sending’. 8 So Colin G. Kruse, ‘The Offender and the Offence in 2 Corinthians 2:5 and 7:12’, EvQ 88 (1988): 129–39. Welborn, An End to Enmity, 23–59, argues that Paul was ‘caused pain’ and ‘wronged’ by a friend who accused him of fraudulent use of money, whom he identifies as Gaius. For a survey of earlier opinion, see Harris, Second Epistle to the Corinthians, 223–27.

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months had reached a low point. The church was divided within itself, with some ready to reject Paul’s leadership. This was the situation when Paul finally arrived in Macedonia and met Titus to hear his report of the Corinthians’ reaction to Paul’s non-return and the arrival instead of Titus bearing the ‘tearful’ letter. Titus apparently reported to Paul that in the realm of local problems, there had been some positive response, though with residual ill feeling. This good though qualified good news was overshadowed by Titus’s alarming report on another matter, the arrival of new ministers who threatened Paul’s relationship with the church in Corinth (discussed at §2). a. Paul’s defence Whatever else he was, Paul was a realist. He understood that he must reinstate himself in their eyes if he would ever be able to resume his leadership with them. This he attempts to do throughout the letter from beginning to end. Accordingly, if we listen carefully, we will hear a defensive or ‘apologetic’ tone in 2 Corinthians. Towards the end of the letter (12.19), he writes: Have you been thinking all along that we have been defending ourselves to you?

Paul is not denying that he has been defending himself. Rather, he is inviting the Corinthians to consider the question and to recognize that he has in fact been doing just that, defending himself, all along, from the beginning of the letter. So critical were (some of) the Corinthians of him that he had no option but to correct their bad opinions. So, yes, he was offering an apologia for himself and his ministry. But he continues immediately: It is in the sight of God that we have been speaking in Christ, and all for your up-building, beloved.

Paul lived his whole life ‘in Christ’, subject to his Lord’s direction, in imitation of his life and in the strength of his indwelling Spirit. Since the Damascus encounter and his subsequent baptism, Paul understood that he was ‘in Christ’ and that Christ was ‘in him’, such was the closeness of the relationship.9 Paul made this claim ‘in the sight of God’, aware that his life was an open book before the allseeing eyes of the Almighty. These words are close to an oath by Paul, so seriously does he want the Corinthians to trust him.

9 See, generally, Constantine R. Campbell, Paul and Union with Christ: An Exegetical and Theological Study (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012).

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His point here is that all his words written so far as a man ‘in Christ’ – and under the divine scrutiny – were uttered for a single intent, to build up these Corinthian congregants, whom he addresses as ‘beloved’ (through gritted teeth?). In other words, he has written these many words not merely to vindicate himself for his sake, but for theirs. The fact is that they need his leadership, without which they will implode, especially through the evil influence of the newly arrived preachers, and ultimately cease to be a congregation that could be considered ‘Christian’. Let me mention three aspects of Paul’s life and ministry that he must actively address if there is to be any hope that the Corinthians will recommit to his leadership. Sincerity The first is sincerity. We use the word in a rather moralistic way, meaning being ‘earnest’ or ‘true to one’s convictions’, as Shakespeare has a father advising his son, ‘to thine own self be true’. But this is not the way Paul uses the word, which literally means ‘tested by the sun’ (εἰλικρίνεια), that is, open to God’s scrutiny with nothing covered up. Our word ‘transparent’ is close to Paul’s idea, with one critical qualifier. Paul claims to live his life ‘open’ to God’s gaze; he is transparent before the eyes of the One who will judge him. Consider these two statements: For our boast is this: the testimony of our conscience that we behaved in the world with simplicity and godly sincerity, not

by earthly wisdom

but

by the grace of God,

and supremely so toward you. (1.12) For we are

not, like so many, peddlers of God’s word,

but

as men of sincerity,

as commissioned by God, in the sight of God we speak in Christ. (1.17)

In the first, Paul is echoing their opinion of him, that is, he behaves towards them with ‘earthly wisdom’. They were thinking of his seemingly airily given promises to return to Corinth, which they think even he was not convinced about (1.17). On the contrary, he assured them that he had acted towards them with single-minded sincerity. In the second statement, Paul describes himself as a ‘man of sincerity’ who speaks God’s word as one ‘called by God’, in contrast with these new preachers, whom he scathingly dismisses as mere ‘peddlers’ – hucksters – ‘of God’s word’. Both ‘sincerity’ statements are made with reference to God. In the first, it is ‘the testimony of our conscience’ (a God-ward reference), and in the second, it is ‘in

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the sight of God’. They don’t believe him, so he is driven to make his assurances in the very presence of God, binding himself thereby by a solemn oath that he is speaking the truth. In effect, Paul places himself under the condemnation of God if he is not telling the truth. Integrity As noted, Paul refers intriguingly to ‘the one who did the wrong’ and ‘the one who suffered the wrong’/was ‘caused pain’ during his second, ‘painful visit’ (7.12/2.5). I am assuming with most authorities that it was Paul who ‘suffered the wrong’ and with rather fewer who think that that the offender was ‘incestuous man’ (1 Cor. 5.1) who has now repented (2 Cor. 2.5–11). What was the ‘wrong’ done to Paul? While we are in the realm of conjecture, it is not unlikely that, as a counter-accusation, the man had ‘wronged’ Paul by accusing him of impropriety regarding money. This would explain the care Paul took to ensure that the details of the delivery of the collection to Jerusalem were beyond reproach, so that ‘no one should blame us about this generous gift that is being administered by us’ (8.20–21). Integrity in money matters is probably included in Paul’s robust defence. Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart. But we have renounced disgraceful, underhanded ways. We refuse to practice cunning or tamper with God’s word, but by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience in the sight of God. (4.1–2)

The ‘disgraceful, underhanded ways’ and the ‘practice’ of ‘cunning’ are not specified, but they may refer to accusations about misuse of money. Authority Paul must respond to the vexed issue of his authority over them. Their refusal to fully comply with 1 Corinthians marks the beginning of their resistance to that authority, a resistance that would become outright rebellion during Paul’s ‘painful’ second visit and had become even more overt when the new ministers arrived. The Corinthians’ disinclination to complete the collection appears to have been a symbol for their revolt against Paul. Paul’s opening lines declaring him to be ‘an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God’ are more or less standard. It is in the latter chapters, where Paul powerfully raises his upcoming last visit, that he twice emphasizes his authority (10.8; 13.10). For even if I boast a little too much of our authority, which the Lord gave for building you up and

not for destroying you,

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I will not be ashamed. I do not want to appear to be frightening you with my letters. (10.8–9)

Paul would expect the Corinthians to know that these words are based on Jer. 24.6–7, assuring them of God’s good purposes for them and promising that he will give the people a heart to know that he is the Lord and that they are his people. Based on Paul’s earlier visits, the Corinthians will know that he is alluding to Christ’s encounter with him near Damascus. It was at Damascus twenty-five years earlier that the Lord Jesus Christ ‘gave’ Paul his ‘authority’ in the churches.10 Paul only mentions these authority texts towards the end of the letter, in passages where he pleads with them not to force him to use this ‘authority’ to ‘tear down’ this church, by driving out unrepentant troublemakers from its fellowship. He shrinks from this, but will do it if they force his hand. Pastors are not apostles and do not have direct apostolic authority. However, insofar as their ministry is based on apostolic teaching, it is a true authority, but a derived authority. It implies the need for a careful reading of the apostolic text as the basis for its pastoral application to congregations. In summary, Paul was determined to reestablish his leadership over the Corinthian church in a time of dire difficulties both for them and for him. To that end, Paul defended his sincerity, his integrity and his apostolic authority. His reconciliation with them and theirs with him was paramount. Unless that happened, their future was problematic. But no such restoration was possible in the face of the Corinthians’ sustained animosity, unless there was a change of heart. Some of their issues, like his failure to return immediately and his refusal to be paid, may have arisen from misunderstanding and uncharitable judgement on their part. On the other hand, partisan support for the faction leader and their welcome of the new missionaries were weighty matters Paul must confront them with. Accordingly, Paul must argue his case for himself if there is to be any hope of reconciliation. To that end, we have discussed Paul’s defence of his sincerity, his integrity and his apostolic authority. b. Reconciliation The theme of reconciliation is dominant in 2 Corinthians. At the beginning, Paul connects with them, assuring them that his sufferings are for their comfort while also pleading for their prayers for him (2 Cor. 1.6, 11). At the end, he urges them to be restored to one another (13.11). The theme of reconciliation also emerges in three other places. Paul the peacemaker (2.5–11) Based on Titus’s delivery of the ‘tearful’ letter, a ‘majority’ of the congregation has at last disciplined the man who ‘caused pain’ to Paul, who has now repented. This, 10 Barnett, The Corinthian Question, 36–45.

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however, implies that a ‘minority’ sided with the man against Paul during the second, ‘painful’ visit and remained loyal to him. Now, however, Paul calls on the Corinthians to ‘turn to forgive and comfort’ him lest he be ‘overwhelmed with excessive sorrow’ and to ‘reaffirm’ their ‘love’ for him (2.7–8). Here we see Paul the peacemaker at work in this fractured and painful situation. This man has brought great trouble to Paul personally, to his relationships with the church and to relationships within the church. It is a sad commentary on how much damage to so many people one person can do. Many pastors would be glad to see the back of this man. But Paul saw his vocation to ‘build up’, not ‘tear down’ (10.8; 13.10), and so he made every effort at reconciliation between himself and the man, between himself and the church and between the factions within the church. Paul himself took the initiative in securing this reconciliation between the parties. In this we see the apostle as representing the character of God, who is the great Peacemaker, as Paul will explain later in the letter (5.18–6.13). The surprise is that Paul, the wronged party, took the initiative in bringing about the reconciliation. This is God-like behaviour. There were other disaffected members of the church, for example, the sarcastic critic who complained that Paul’s letters were ‘weighty and strong’, written to ‘frighten’ people, but whose personal presence was ‘weak’ and his speech ‘beneath contempt’ (10.9–10). This person, who has not repented, is not to be identified with the one who ‘wronged’ Paul, who has repented. God the peacemaker (5.18–6.13) The Corinthians were drifting away from their secure relationships with God, although they were probably not yet alienated in an outright way. Their unhappiness with Paul’s ‘tearful’ letter tended to push them away from his teachings, into the arms of the newly arrived rival ministers, who were preaching ‘another Jesus’ (11.4). The timing could not have been worse. Right relationships with God depend on doctrinally correct instruction. It is only by means of the death and resurrection of Christ, as taught by Paul, that reconciliation with God is possible. The ‘Moses’ (i.e. ‘letter’-keeping) requirements of the new preachers do not bring peace with God, which can only happen on God’s terms, namely through faith alone. Thus reconciliation with Paul, that is, with his teaching about God’s means of reconciliation, is a precondition to that reconciliation. Because man is incapable of self-justification, he must find justification with God by means of God’s gracious initiatives, whereby (a) Christ became sin for us (5.21), so that (b) God does not reckon (impute) trespasses against us (5.19) and (c) in Christ we become the righteousness of God (5.21). It is only by the substitutionary, sin-bearing death of Christ that God does this. Everything depends on the source of the teaching, that it is apostolic. If the apostolic teaching is rejected, there can be no reconciliation with God. Paul’s

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work as pastor, and the primary work of pastors since, is to ensure by right teaching about the cross of Christ that church members know how to be at peace with God.11 This explains why Paul puts reconciliation with God side-by-side with reconciliation with himself, but not so much with him as a person as with his teaching. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. (5.20) Our heart is wide open . . . in return (I speak as to children), widen your hearts also. (6.11–12)

Paul follows his passionate plea for them to be reconciled to God through Christ’s death with his passionate plea for them to reciprocate his love for them. In this setting, Paul gives his ministry credentials, which were characterized by faithfulness under suffering, and which in effect marked him out as a kind of ‘Christ’ figure (6.3–10). Christ became poor to make many rich (8.9) and Paul, as poor, was making many rich (6.10). Paul’s whole life is lived sacrificially for others, just as his Lord’s had been, who made others ‘rich’ in salvation (5.20; 6.1–2). Titus the peacemaker (7.5–16) Paul recalls the special moment when Titus finally arrived in Macedonia. Until that moment Paul had been, he said, ‘downcast’. His words are moving. God, who comforts the downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus, and not only by his coming but also by the comfort with which he was comforted by you. (7.6–7)

God, whom Paul said earlier was ‘the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort’ (1.3), brought his comfort and encouragement to the downcast Paul, waiting anxiously in Macedonia. But this he did through a human instrument, Titus, who himself had been comforted by the Corinthians. Despite their shortcomings, the Corinthians did comfort Paul’s friend while he was with them, and that in turn brought relief to Paul. Consequently, Paul felt that he and the Corinthians had, to some degree at least, been reconciled (7.13–16). Here we see Titus in the role of peacemaker, seeking to bind together Paul and this congregation.

11 See also Rom. 5.1–11.

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Paul’s appeal to the Corinthians to complete the interrupted collection followed his appeal to them to be reconciled to him, which in measure Titus had achieved (7.13–16).12

2. The newly arrived opposition: Encroachment into his jurisdiction a. Their identity and mission13 What was Paul’s problem with the new arrivals? Some authorities think it was their triumphalism and self-proclaimed ‘superiority’ over Paul by which they sought to squeeze him out of Corinth. They point to the ‘triumph’ passage (2.14–17) and to the responsive but bitterly ironic ‘fool’s speech’ (11.1–12.13) as evidence. This is true enough, but not the whole story. Their competitive triumphalism is subsidiary to the main issue, which was doctrinal. They came as an alternative mission, with an alternative message. They sought to match Paul in message and ministry, so as to supersede him and thus exclude him, installing themselves in his place. Consider the parallels: Paul

The Counter-missionaries

2 Corinthians

Paul is a Jew

They are Jews

11.22

He calls himself a minister

They call themselves ministers

6.3 | 11.23

He calls himself an apostle

They call themselves apostles

1.1 | 11.5, 13

He preaches the word of God

They preach the word of God

2.17; 4.2

He preaches the gospel

They preach the gospel

10.14 | 11.4

He preaches Jesus

They preach Jesus

4.5 | 11.4

They describe themselves and what they do along identical lines as Paul. In every sense, they are an alternative but, according to them, a superior mission. C.  K. Barrett identified them as ‘Jews, Jerusalem Jews, Judaizing Jews’ who ‘constituted a rival apostolate to Paul’s’.14 At least one further qualifier could be added. They were 12 For discussion of Paul’s use of encouragement as a means of persuasion, see Stanley N. Olson, ‘Pauline Expression of Confidence in His Addressees’, CBQ 47 (1985):  282–95; Vegge, 2 Corinthians, 35–71. 13 For the identity, mission and message of the rival ministers, see Barnett, The Corinthian Question, 160–69, where it is argued that their target was Jewish Christians in Corinth who were slipping away from Jewish practices. See also Thomas R. Blanton IV, ‘Spirit and Covenant Renewal: A Theologoumenon of Paul’s Opponents in 2 Corinthians’, JBL 129 (2010): 129–51. 14 C. K. Barrett, ‘Paul’s Opponents in II Corinthians’, NTS 17 (1971): 251. For a contra view, see Francis Watson, Paul, Judaism and the Gentiles, SNTSMS 56 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), who identified the false-apostles with Apollos and his companions (implausibly, in my opinion).

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‘Pharisaic Jews’. Paul’s exegetical rebuttals in ch. 3 imply his opponents’ exegetical expertise. But theirs is not actually a mission with an identical message and method. It’s not a matter of his jealousy, his resenting other and gifted ministers who are otherwise sound in theology and practice. Paul described this group differently, as peddlers, false-apostles and super apostles, to draw attention to erroneous aspects of their ministry.15 It is evident, however, that Paul is referring to the one group. Their distinguishing epithets do not obscure their overlapping characteristics. Peddlers Those who ‘peddle the word of God’ (2.17) came to Corinth bearing ink-written letters of commendation (3.1), which Paul immediately associated with ‘letters . . . written on stone tablets’ to indicate a ‘Moses’-/‘letter’-based ministry (3.3). Those who bore ink-written commendation were peddling a ‘word of God’ that was expressed in ‘letters . . . on stone tablets’, that is, directed to the law. That law-based,16 Moses-centred ‘ministry’, however, is antithetical to Paul’s ‘new covenant’ ministry that issues in God-given ‘righteousness’ (3.9) and the Spirit (3.3, 6, 8). The payment of money was involved for these new arrivals (cf. 11.12), hence Paul’s reference to ‘peddling’, but this is a secondary issue.17 It was their ‘Mosesbased righteousness’ that Paul primarily opposed. False-apostles Later in the letter, Paul calls the new missionaries ‘false-apostles’. They ‘masquerade’ as ‘ministers of righteousness’ but are actually ‘ministers of Satan’ (11.13–15). God’s righteousness was found in the Crucified One, about whom Paul writes, ‘God made to be sin on our behalf that we might become the righteousness of God in him’ (5.21). It is inferred that they taught a ‘righteousness’ that was ‘Moses’-related. Those who ‘peddled God’s word’ and those he calls ‘false-apostles’ are to be connected, because both advocated a spurious ‘righteousness’ (3.9/11.13–15). God’s righteousness was mediated by the gospel message centred in Christ crucified and not by means of Moses-righteousness.

15 Those who follow ‘partition’ theories would reject the view that these three references are to the one group. 16 For Paul, ‘letter’ (γράμμα) and ‘law’ (νόμος) were synonymous. See Rom. 7.6 (my translation): we are released from the law (νόμος) . . . so that we serve not under the letter (γράμμα). 17 Reference to ‘peddling’ points to travelling hucksters who sold inferior goods or products and came to be applied to some travelling teachers. See Harris, Second Epistle to the Corinthians, 253–54.

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Super apostles Paul identifies those he calls ‘super apostles’ (11.5) with the generic ‘someone who comes preaching another Jesus . . . a different gospel’ (11.4).18 Paul denotes them as ‘super’ (ὑπερλίαν) because of their self-proclaimed superiority as speakers in contrast to himself. More serious, however, was their heterodox Christology. They ‘preached another Jesus (ἄλλον Ἰησοῦν) . . . a different gospel (εὐαγγέλιον ἕτερον)’. Peddlers, false-apostles and super apostles are different epithets for members of the same group. Their ‘peddled’ version of ‘God’s word’ was a corrupted version centred on Christ and Moses. They claimed to be true apostles of Christ, but were teachers of a ‘false’ righteousness. They presented themselves as ‘superior’ to Paul in speech, by which they preached ‘another Jesus . . . a different gospel’. Paul responded to their differing apostolic claims by referring to them rhetorically by titles that matched but ridiculed those claims. These new arrivals were not Jews who sought to make Jews of the Gentile believers in Corinth. It is incorrect to think of them as if they were attempting some kind of reverse conversion of the Corinthian Gentiles from their Christianity to Judaism, pure and simple. To the contrary, these men, according to their own account, were ‘apostles . . . workmen’ (11.13), ‘ministers of Christ’ (11.23) who ‘preached Jesus’ in ‘the gospel’, ‘the word of God’ (2.17; 11.4). They came as professed Christian missionaries. By their emphasis on triumph, I infer that they believed in the resurrection of Jesus. Their errors are not easy to define but emerge to a degree by Paul’s comparison of himself with them. He is a minister of ‘the new covenant . . . a ministry of the Spirit . . . a ministry of righteousness’; they are therefore ministers ‘of the old covenant . . . of the letter . . . of death . . . of condemnation’ (3.6–9). Theirs is a ministry written ‘on tablets of stone’, but his ‘on tablets of human hearts’. I infer that these ministers regarded the Mosaic covenant to be still in place, not superseded and unfulfilled. Accordingly, it implied a different eschatology and inevitably a different Christology, a different soteriology, a different pneumatology. They came with ‘letters’ of introduction to the church in Corinth (3.1), presumably from like-minded conservative members of the Jerusalem church. They seek similar ‘letters of recommendation’ from the Corinthian believers so as to leapfrog to other churches of the Pauline mission, to win them for their doctrines and overturn Paul’s leadership. Most likely they were part of the uncoordinated anti-Paul mission that had been painfully in evidence in Jerusalem (Gal. 2.4), in the Galatian churches (Gal. 2.7; 4.9–10; 5.2, 10; 6.12), in Antioch (Gal. 2.11–14; Acts 15.1) and in the province of Syria and Cilicia (Acts 15.23–24), and would be active later in Rome (Rom. 2.25–29; 16.17–18; Phil. 1.15–18) and Philippi (Phil. 3.2–3, 18–19).

18 For the argument that the false-apostles were the super apostles, see Barnett, Corinthian Question, 156–58.

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b. Paul’s true superiority Paul does not state outright why the Corinthians should regard him as their valid minister. They and we are left to infer that legitimacy from various passages within the letter. Paul clearly contrasts himself with the new arrivals throughout. Broadly speaking, the chief point of contrast is found in the emphasis each places on key aspects of Christology and ‘righteousness’. The rivals placed their emphasis on ‘superiority’ and ‘triumph’, which suggests that they emphasized the resurrection of Christ, with less interest in the cross of Christ, that is, the atonement. ‘Righteousness’ seems to have been a key point of difference. The centrepiece of Paul’s theological argument in 2 Corinthians is on the death and the resurrection of Christ (2 Cor. 5.14–21). Here, Paul by no means simply reflects on the facts of that death and resurrection, but emphasizes their saving effects. Throughout the letter, Paul narrates his apostolic vocation in terms of suffering and deliverance, of weakness and power.19 Paul identifies himself very closely with the Crucified but Resurrected One. Paul portrays his own missionary ‘weaknesses’ (identifying him with the cross) but also his ‘power’ (identifying him with the resurrection) as the continuing extension in time and space in him of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection (e.g. 2.14–15). Paul’s Christoformity in life, message and ministry was his apologetic, the demonstration that he was a ‘better (ὑπέρ) minister of Christ’ than his rivals (11.23a). His boasting of ‘weaknesses’ in the ‘Fool’s Speech’ mocks their boasting of superiority, and thereby authenticates him as a minister of the crucified but resurrected Christ, while at the same time delegitimizing their claims.

3. The message of 2 Corinthians20 A common feature of Paul’s letters is their length and detail. He modelled his messages to churches on patterns of contemporary letters.21 These, however, were generally quite brief and related to personal matters. Paul used the format but expanded the content extensively. The letters are dotted with thanksgivings, intercessions, doxologies, formatted catechetical teaching and graces, and provide some idea of a church meeting in the Pauline mission.22 To state the matter briefly, Paul faced (a) long-term relationship problems with the Corinthians that had more recently become acute, and (b)  the very recent 19 2 Cor. 1.3–7, 8–11; 2.14–16; 4.7–12; 6.3–10; 11.1–12.13. 20 See further Paul Barnett, Paul:  A  Pastor’s Heart in Second Corinthians (Sydney South: Aquila, 2012). 21 Richards, Paul and First-Century Letter Writing, 13–16. 22 Ralph P. Martin, New Testament Foundations 2 (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 1978), 243–47.

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crisis caused by the arrival of rival missionaries. Paul could have dealt briefly with these issues in a few terse words for them to complete the collection and to show the newcomers the door, and that would have sufficed! Actually, it would not have sufficed, because Paul really did need to reengage at length with this congregation to reestablish reconciliation. No less did he need to argue at length that it was his preaching and life experience focused on the cross and resurrection of Jesus that legitimized his ministry and delegitimized their ministry. When we treat the letter as a united text, both issues emerge as important. If, however, we follow a ‘partition’ theory, that balance may be lost. In Welborn’s ingenious reconstruction based on his identification of five original letters, one aspect of Paul’s concerns is radically diminished. Through his eyes, the challenge to Paul posed by the false-apostles becomes relatively minor, representing only 10 per cent of his monograph.23 For Welborn, the issue underlying the original letters (which he has reconstructed) is the resolution of enmity between Paul and the wrongdoer. When one follows a theory of the letter’s unity, however, it emerges that the issue of the rival mission was even more important than the local problem. Paul introduces it early (2.14–3.18); it dominates the latter end of the letter (10.12– 12.13); and, most important, it is the centrepiece exposition of ‘reconciliation with God’ (5.11–6.13). References to ‘righteousness’ are found in the extremities of the letter and in the centrepiece and provide a critical unifying theme of the entire letter. Integrally connected with ‘righteousness’ are the great doctrines of Christology, Atonement, Eschatology and Pneumatology. The Corinthians’ standing as a ‘church of God’ depends on their grasp of these divine verities. In the final analysis, Paul is confident that the Corinthians are ‘in the faith’ (13.5; cf. 1.24). Welborn, however, has seized on the lesser issue of interpersonal relations between Paul and the wrongdoer and elevated it to preeminence. His partition theory has enabled him to reweight the concerns and arguments of the apostle away from theology to sociology. Paul understood that godly outcomes depend on their spiritual maturity. One outcome was the completion of the collection, but that must flow out of their grasp of divine reconciliation as worked out at the human level. Another outcome was their acceptance of Paul’s ministry and their rejection of the newcomers’ ministry, but that must flow out of their recognition that the cross and resurrection of Jesus authenticated Paul’s ministry and message. In other words, Paul wrote at such length and in such detail because he wanted the Corinthians to understand the faith they had embraced and to express that informed understanding in consistent, ethical ways. A too-brief letter must express itself in legalistic terms, but a longer, theologically considered letter would hopefully find expression that is spiritually free, voluntary and heartfelt.

23 Welborn’s An End to Enmity, a book of 481 pages, devotes only forty pages (124–64) to this issue.

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Basic to this, however, was the need for the Corinthians to trust the writer of the letter, that is, his moral character. This explains Paul’s care in establishing his sincerity, his integrity and the basis of his authority. It should be obvious that moral character is the only sustainable basis for pastoral ministry. Nobody will listen to a preacher who is a liar, untrustworthy, sexually immoral or a hypocrite. The power of the Christ example in ministers is the continuing message of this letter.

4. Did the letter fulfil its objectives? To conclude, is it worth asking if Paul was successful in achieving his principal objectives, completion of the collection and exposure of the super apostles? From Rom. 16.23 and Acts 20.2–3, we learn that Paul spent three months (winter, presumably) in ‘Greece’ (i.e. Corinth) in the house of Gaius, where the ‘whole church’ met. These details strongly imply that Gaius and the ‘whole church’ welcomed Paul to Corinth and, in turn, that the community had received and submitted to 2 Corinthians. That 2 Corinthians made its way ultimately into the canon must have been on the basis that the church did, in fact, receive the letter. By contrast, the ‘letter written in tears’ (2 Cor. 2.4) did not find a place in the canon, which probably means that the church did not accept its message. Regarding the completion of the collection, Rom. 15.26, written from Corinth, tells us that ‘Achaia’ (i.e. Corinth) was ‘pleased to make some contribution for the poor among the saints in Jerusalem’. This, in turn, suggests that the members in Corinth had revived their contributions to the collection, as Paul had asked them to do (2 Cor. 8.10–12). What, then, of the ‘false-apostles’? There is no specific detail about them, but it is reasonable to assume that once Paul arrived in Corinth, they did not remain within the orbit of the church. Were they part of the Jewish conspiracy for shipboard disruption of the journey to Judea (Acts 20.3)?

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Chapter 6 P A ST O R I N G W I T H A   B IG S T IC K : P AU L A S P A ST O R I N G A L AT IA N S Michael F. Bird and John Anthony Dunne

One of the stereotypical images of a shepherd is a man dressed in Middle Eastern garb, living in a makeshift camp, surrounded by lots of sheep and holding a distinctive stick called a shepherd’s crook. The crook, with its characteristic hook at one end, was a useful tool for examining dangerous undergrowth, for forcibly moving insolent animals, for maintaining balance while working and for warding off would-be predators. There is one other lesser-known and less glamorous purpose for the shepherd’s crook. It relates to sheep hygiene. If a sheep’s wool grows too long without being shorn, dung easily gathers and gets clumpy around the sheep’s rear end. If the wool around the area is not cut off and the waste not removed, it can lead to illness, infection and disease. As such, another use for the shepherd’s crook is the task of scraping the dung off the sheep’s bottom. In which case, shepherding is not all harps, campfires and roast mutton. It has some rather dirty and smelly jobs that go with it. What does this anecdote have to do with Paul as pastor in Galatians? We might say that in Galatians, Paul is engaging in some intense pastoral care for the Galatian churches by using his epistolary crook to scrape off some theological dung that has attached itself to the flock in Galatia and puts them at risk of becoming very ill if it is not removed. Of course, such a metaphor is rather incongruous, but in many ways it is no less apropos. Paul, in a pastoral role, takes it upon himself to intervene in a dispute when a church he founded falls prey to teachings that compromise the integrity of the gospel and injure the spiritual health of his converts – if not actually serving to lead them away from the grace of Christ (see esp. Gal. 1.6–12; 3.1–5; 5.1–4). Galatians, then, provides an interesting intersection with Paul acting like a parent, preacher, prophet, polemicist and pastor. It certainly indicates one feature of his pastoral theology, which was to ensure the transmission and continuation of a gospel culture within the churches he founded. In his recent tome on the apostle Paul, N. T. Wright says, ‘He was a pastor, and a pastor’s pastor.’1 The point has not been subject to any aggravated denials that we are aware of, but it is a feature of Paul’s apostolic ministry that is too frequently 1 N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, COQG 4 (London: SPCK, 2013), 452.

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forgotten or neglected. Even more neglected, perhaps, is the role of his theological polemics serving genuinely pastoral ends. Paul’s polemics might strike some as harsh, intent on vaporizing any dissent to his authority and hardly conducive to a spirit of pastoral patience and care. Or else Paul’s polemics against deviant beliefs might be regarded as the battering ram that he uses to knock down walls so as to enable his pastoral exhortations to gain entry into a church caught in debate and confusion, rendering his forceful argumentation as the necessary evil that enables the higher good of his moral exhortations. But we want to suggest that Paul’s often animated or militant defence of the gospel against errors is very much pastorally motivated, because it shapes the visible life of the congregations for which he takes responsibility as the apostle to the Gentiles. To that end, we intend to present an overview of Paul’s letter to the Galatians as an example of Paul as pastor in the midst of theological controversy. We will do this by (1) outlining our understanding of the historical situation behind Galatians, (2) considering Paul as a heresiologist and (3) describing Paul as maternal benefactor. In the end, we will see that Paul teaches us that sometimes you have to pastor with a big theological stick.

1. The historical occasion of Galatians The place of this letter in Paul’s biography has normally been divided between those who adopt a south or north Galatian location, with the former position usually linked to an earlier dating of the letter. Regardless of the letter’s destination, the usual dating range is AD 48–55. Yet the link between destination and dating does not necessarily follow. The more important factor for the question of the letter’s date is the relationship between Gal. 2.1–10 and Acts 15. Thus, one could hold to a south Galatian destination of the letter and a later date. For the purposes of this chapter, it is not necessary to make a decision regarding the precise dating of the letter. However, we do assume a south Galatian destination, and hence we find the material regarding Paul’s so-called first missionary journey in Acts 13–14 to the south-central cities of Asia Minor relevant for our interpretation of the letter. In regard to the Galatian crisis, the situation appears to be that a group of Jewish Christians, arguably emboldened by Paul’s departure from Antioch (Gal. 2.11–14), were attempting to foist a nomistic gospel on Paul’s Galatian/Gentile converts.2 The precise identity of this group – which we will refer to as ‘the agitators’ in accordance with scholarly convention  – is uncertain, and it is not clear whether they came from Jerusalem or Antioch, or were even locals from Galatia.

2 Contra Mark D. Nanos, The Irony of Galatians: Paul’s Letter in First-Century Context (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002), who thinks that these figures were non-Christians from the local Jewish communities; and contra Alexander V. Prokhorov, ‘Taking the Jews Out of the Equation:  Galatians 6.12–17 as a Summons to Cease Evading Persecution’, JSNT 36 (2013): 172–88, who has recently argued that these figures were non-Jewish Christians.

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The exact details of their message and intentions are also unclear.3 On the basis of mirror-reading, we can attempt to reconstruct their claims, although this enterprise is admittedly speculative.4 a. The agitators’ account of Paul ●

●

Determining what the agitators claimed about Paul to the Galatians is notoriously difficult. Part of the trouble here is discerning the reason for Paul’s extended ‘autobiography’ in Gal. 1–2. Is Paul recounting this information as part of an apologetic self-defence, in which case the material he reported may have been in dispute, or is he on the offence? Paul may be responding to accusations that his apostleship or gospel was dependent upon or subordinate to the apostolic circle in Jerusalem (cf. 1.1, 11–12; 2.9). It is likely that Paul is being defensive to a certain degree – swearing an oath in 1.20 certainly points in this direction – but a strong case has been made for reading the autobiographical material in chs 1–2 as paradigmatic.5 These are not mutually exclusive, however, and so it is best to view the early chapters as functioning both apologetically and paradigmatically. At the very least, some aspect of his relationship to the Jerusalem apostles may have been disputed. It is possible, though by no means certain, that Paul may have been deemed fickle for omitting important details about the gospel as the agitators saw it, making him a ‘man pleaser’ (1.10).6 Perhaps related to this, Paul may have

3 The conventional term ‘Judaizers’ is a misnomer; Jews do not ‘Judaize’, just as Greeks do not ‘Hellenize’. The term ‘agitators’ arises from Paul’s polemical designation of his opponents (ἀναστατόω in Gal. 5.12), which is to be preferred over ‘neutral’ designations such as ‘Teachers’ (so J. Louis Martyn, Galatians, AB 33A [New  York:  Doubleday, 1997]) or ‘Influencers’ (so Nanos, The Irony of Galatians), which are intended to keep the reader from making assumptions about the intentions of these figures or how the Galatians evaluated them. Since our aim is to exegete Paul’s letter, we think it is best to use the terminology that Paul used in order to be faithful to our interpretation of him. 4 For sober-minded appraisals of mirror-reading, especially in relation to Galatians, see George Lyons, Pauline Autobiography:  Toward A  New Understanding, SBLDS 73 (Atlanta:  Scholars Press, 1985), 79–112; John M. G. Barclay, ‘Mirror-Reading a Polemical Letter:  Galatians as a Test Case’, JSNT 31 (1987):  73–93. George Howard, Paul:  Crisis in Galatia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), was also critical of mirror-reading and utilized his criticism to contend for the possibility that the agitators were not ‘opponents’ of Paul after all, but were sympathetic to him. Not many have followed his reconstruction. 5 Lyons, Pauline Autobiography; Beverly R. Gaventa, ‘Galatians 1 and 2: Autobiography as Paradigm’, NovT 28 (1986): 309–26; Ben Witherington III, Grace in Galatia: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Galatians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 89–167; Brian J. Dodd, Paul’s Paradigmatic ‘I’: Personal Example as Literary Strategy, JSNTSup 177 (Sheffield:  Sheffield Academic, 1999), 133–70. 6 For a defence of the position that Paul was not accused of being a ‘man-pleaser’, see Brian J. Dodd, ‘Christ’s Slave, People Pleasers and Galatians 1.10’, NTS 42 (1996): 90–104.

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been accused of practising and preaching circumcision but withholding it from his converts until later (5.11).

b. The agitators’ gospel ●

●

In general, the Messiah fulfils the Torah, he does not abolish it, even for Gentiles (3.6–14). Furthermore, only the Torah and a Jewish lifestyle are the way to please God and are able to restrain sensual desires and prevent Gentiles from falling back to their old pagan ways (5.13, 16–17, 24). In keeping with the Torah (Gen. 15.6 with 17.4–14), only those who are circumcised are sons of Abraham (Gal. 3–4), whereby a standing among God’s people and before God is by ‘works of the Torah’ (2.15–21; 3.10; 5.4), especially circumcision (2.12; 5.2–3, 6; 6.15) and calendrical observances (4.10).7

The agitators may not have been identical to the ‘false believers’ in Antioch (Gal. 2.4; Acts 15.1–5) and the ‘men from James’ who later came to Antioch (Gal. 2.12), but they were certainly all agreed on the necessity for Gentiles to be circumcised (2.3, 14; 5.2; 6.12). The reasons may have been for salvation (Acts 15.1), but were most likely motivated to avert suspicion that would have made them liable to undergo further persecution (Gal. 6.12). Those persecuting the agitators could have been, as Robert Jewett famously suggested, zealous Judeans, but they could also have been Jews from the local synagogue or even local Roman authorities.8 Regardless of where this additional pressure came from, it likely aggravated the problem in Galatia and the propelled urgency with which the agitators advocated circumcision. Paul challenged this ‘other gospel’ at almost every level: its reading of Scripture, its departure from the accord reached in Jerusalem (2.1–10), its discord with his own revelation of the gospel, the disparity it created with the experience of the Galatian believers, the division it caused within the community, and the manner in which they promoted circumcision. In short, the agitators were

7 Although this need not imply that the agitators utilized the phrase ‘works of the law’. 8 Robert Jewett, ‘The Agitators and the Galatian Congregation’, NTS 17 (1971):  198– 212. On the possible imperial background of Galatians, see, for example, Thomas Witulski, Die Adressaten des Galaterbriefes: Untersuchungen zur Gemeinde von Antiochia ad Pisidiam, FRLANT 193 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000); Bruce W. Winter, ‘The Imperial Cult and Early Christians in Roman Galatia (Acts XIII 13–50 and Galatians VI 11–18)’, in Actes du ler Congrès International sur Antioche de Pisidie, ed. Thomas Drew-Bear, Mehmet Taşlıalan and Christine M. Thomas (Lyon: Université Lumière–Lyon 2; Paris:  de Boccard, 2002), 67–75; Justin K. Hardin, Galatians and the Imperial Cult: A Critical Analysis of the First-Century Social Context of Paul’s Letter, WUNT 2/237 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008); Brigitte Kahl, Galatians Re-Imagined:  Reading with the Eyes of the Vanquished, Paul in Critical Contexts (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2010).

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not faithful proclaimers or practitioners of the gospel, since they had distorted the message by subordinating Messiah to Torah.

2. Paul as heresiologist It is understood that the category of ‘heresiologist’ might not be a positive one. It is a designation used mainly for second-century church leaders such as Tertullian and Irenaeus and their critical engagement with aberrant expressions of Christian faith expressed by groups such as the Marcionites and the Valentinians. The heresiologists were certainly right to critique the views of groups that were, by the standards of proto-orthodoxy, clearly deviant; however, the combative tone with which they proceeded in their task has often left them with a reputation for engaging in polemics with an acidic and acerbic edge. Meanwhile, in our own time, the Protestant tradition, and Reformed evangelicals in particular, sometimes have a strange penchant for doctrinal precision, often at a microscopic level, leading to denunciations and divisions over matters which often seem secondary or tertiary. Indeed, doctrinal correctness can even be a form of idolatry if taken to extreme forms. Along this line, Timothy Keller writes, ‘An idol is something that we look to for things that only God can give. Idolatry functions inside religious communities when doctrinal truth is elevated to the position of a false god.’9 Designating Paul as a heresiologist, then, can connote notions of doctrinal zealotry and an unhealthy fixation on doctrinal purity of the minutiae of secondary matters. Yet Paul certainly was not absorbed with cataloguing and critiquing all the dubious teachings that he came across. In fact, what we know about Paul from passages such as Rom. 14–15, with his emphasis on Christian liberty in secondary matters, is that he does not match the caricature of either a rabid heresiologist or a salivating theo-blogger who lives in a doctrinal straitjacket and is excited primarily by all the things that he or she is against. That caveat aside, it seems that there is a certain fitness in describing Paul as a heresiologist, or at least a gospel polemicist. For Paul, the Christian faith was not ideationally vacuous; it had prescriptive content, it made propositional claims, and those claims could not be abandoned without doing serious injury to the message or to the spiritual state of a church. Across the breadth of his letters, Paul frequently combats a number of perceptible ‘errors’ he knows of, such as ‘covenantal nomism’, whereby grace is embedded in the covenant and obedience is merely the appreciative response to maintain one’s election. However, his objection consists in the assertion that covenantal grace is only efficacious in the context of covenantal obedience, which is precisely what Israel lacks (Rom. 2–3; 9–10). Elsewhere, Paul responds rather ferociously to an ‘ethnocentric nomism’, whereby Christ is merely an add-on to the Sinaitic covenant, so that Christ tops up rather than displaces the salvific function of the Torah. This effectively keeps salvation exclusively

9 Timothy Keller, Counterfeit Gods (New York: Rivertrade, 2011), 131.

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within the Jewish constituency, and Paul strenuously objects to the view that the gospel is the good news that Greeks can be saved by becoming Jews (Gal. 2.1– 3.29; Phil. 3.1–9; Rom. 3.21–4.25). Paul also responds to a ‘sapiential nomism’, which may have been a scheme arising in Corinth that perceived in Christ and the Torah a means to wisdom, power and glory (1 Cor. 1.10–3.23; 2 Cor. 3).10 Finally, Paul opposes an ‘apocalyptic mysticism’ that locates salvation as something acquired through law-observance coupled with visionary ascents to heaven couched in the language of Hellenistic philosophy (Col. 1–2). Thus, when Paul wrote about the dangers of a different gospel, a different Jesus or a different Spirit, he was not engaging in academic debates over strictly cerebral matters; he was warning against incursions that threatened the integrity of the gospel and would inflict gross injury on the spiritual life of his congregations. He took such dangers seriously and drafted his letters and constructed his rhetoric with the gravity necessary to see the incursion warded off. Coming to Galatians now, we detect a determined resolve on the part of Paul (1)  to expose the egregious errors and malicious motives of the agitators, and (2) to ‘out exegete’ them in their handling of the Scriptures. As part of that process, Paul expresses shock and exasperation about what is happening (Gal. 1.6; 4.16, 19–20) and fear and despair over what might happen (3.4; 4.11, 21; 5.2, 7, 9), and engages in vitriolic rhetoric against the agitators themselves (1.8–9; 4.17, 30; 5.10, 12; 6.12–13) because of (a) their teachings: ‘perverting the gospel’ (1.6–7) and not ‘walking according the truth of the gospel’ (2.14); (b) their actions towards the Galatians:  ‘troubling’ (1.7; 5.10), ‘persecuting’ (4.29), ‘unsettling’ (5.12) and ‘pressuring’ them to be circumcised (ἀναγκάζω; 6.12); and (c) the division they were creating in the community (5.14, 19–21). As such, the texture of Paul’s argument is as emotive as it is exegetical; it is as rhetorical as much as it is personal. In any case, what is clear is that the pathos with which Paul writes is indicative of a deep and committed pastoral concern for the Galatian churches. He knows that the Galatians have become confused and concerned by the agitators’ teaching and behaviour (1.7; 4.29; 5.12), so he engages in the task of refuting the Torah-centred gospel of the agitators as a matter of first importance and calls for their expulsion from the community (4.30; cf. 1.8–9).11 10 Michael F. Bird, ‘Salvation in Paul’s Judaism?’, in Paul and Judaism: Crosscurrents in Pauline Exegesis and the Study of Jewish-Christian Relations, ed. Reimund Bieringer and Didier Pollefeyt, LNTS 463 (London: T&T Clark, 2012), 39. 11 Susan Eastman has recently argued that 4.30 is not a command to expel the agitators, but a warning to those Galatians interested in joining them. See Susan G. Eastman, ‘“Cast Out the Slave Woman and Her Son”: The Dynamics of Exclusion and Inclusion in Galatians 4.30’, JSNT 28 (2006): 309–36. For a critique of Eastman’s arguments and a defence of 4.30 as both a warning and a command, see John Anthony Dunne, ‘Cast Out the Aggressive Agitators (Gl 4:29–30): Suffering, Identity, and the Ethics of Expulsion in Paul’s Mission to the Galatians’, in Sensitivity towards Outsiders: Exploring the Dynamic Relationship between Mission and Ethics in the New Testament and Early Christianity, ed. Jacobus Kok et  al., WUNT 2/364 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 246–69.

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On our reading, we would suggest that Paul is so animated in his discourse not only because he wants to defend the integrity of the gospel, but because he sees the future of the Galatians being placed in jeopardy or put in doubt.12 He provocatively asks them, ‘Are you so foolish? Having started with the Spirit, are you now ending with the flesh? Did you suffer so much in vain? If it really was in vain’ (3.3–4), assuming that their trajectory had changed somehow.13 Paul himself is fearful that his apostolic labours might even have been in vain, saying: ‘I am afraid that my work for you may have been wasted’ (4.11). He sees them as athletes who have allowed themselves to be hindered in a race: ‘You were running well; who prevented you from obeying the truth’ (5.7), and the question of whether they will get back on track is still open. And Paul does not hold back from the consequences that might ensue if they follow the nomistic gospel of the agitators. He puts it to them in stark terms: ‘[I]f you let yourselves be circumcised, Christ will be of no benefit to you . . . You who want to be justified by the law have cut yourselves off from Christ; you have fallen away from grace’ (5.2–4). To seek righteousness by works of the Torah would be tantamount to a tragic rejection of God’s grace in Christ. Paul proceeds to refute the agitators’ non-gospel in a number of moves. At the outset, Paul spends a lot of time recounting his own biography, defending his version of events and providing a self-portrait that should function paradigmatically for the Galatians to imitate (1.10–2.14; cf. 4.12). Paul is not interested purely in setting the record straight or in giving an authorized account of his life story. His gospel is at stake, his congregations are being ‘troubled’ (1.7) and it is possible that his apostleship is being attacked as derivative and fickle. On the issue of his gospel being derivative, he emphasizes that it was given to him as a revelation (1.12–24). On top of that, Paul proves that he is not a ‘man-pleaser’ or capricious in his recollection of the Jerusalem council and the incident at Antioch. Both in Jerusalem and Antioch, Paul resisted the ‘compulsion’ (ἀναγκάζω) to force Gentiles to appropriate Jewish customs (2.3, 14) – and resisting the compulsion for circumcision is precisely the issue at stake for the Galatians (cf. 6.12). He is the one who stood up for the Gentiles and won a victory by insisting on the legitimacy of a nonTorah gospel for them (2.1–14). Beyond that, Paul even appeals to a shared Jewish Christian tradition – hence the ‘we’ of 2.15 – that justification is by faith and not by works of the Torah. Thereafter, Paul moves to question whether the Galatians’ own experience of the Spirit matches what is offered to them in the Torah-gospel of the agitators (3.1–5), and then engages in a dense intertextual argument to show that those who rely on the law will inevitably come under the curse of the law for disobeying it (3.6–14). The Mosaic covenant was temporary rather than terminal

12 James W. Thompson, Pastoral Ministry According to Paul: A Biblical Vision (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2006), 62. 13 For a defence of the interpretation of πάσχω in 3.4 as a reference to suffering, see John Anthony Dunne, ‘Suffering in Vain: A Study of the Interpretation of ΠΑΣΧΩ in Galatians 3.4’, JSNT 36 (2013): 3–16.

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and did not obviate the promises of the Abrahamic covenant. The coming of ‘faith’, a synecdoche for ‘Christ’, means a return to the Abrahamic principle of salvation by faith – a faith in Christ that makes believers children of Abraham and heirs to the promise (3.15–29). If the Galatians are heirs, then they are no longer slaves, and to return to the Torah for salvation and security would be tantamount to a return to idolatry (4.1–11). Quite clearly, then, Paul has laid out an argument as to why Messiah and not Torah is the location of righteousness for Gentile believers. The Torah was a temporary provision, given to cocoon God’s saving purposes around Israel, but the Torah had become in some sense defunct with the coming of the Messiah. The upshot is that God accepts Gentiles qua Gentiles without requiring that they come via the route of proselytism. This is Paul’s Torah-free gospel, which he defends at length, paradigmatically represents, and polemicizes against the agitators. Thus, Paul sees as a key pastoral task the need to defend his ministry, his gospel and the freedom of his Gentile converts from an ethnocentric nomism that would force them to adopt the Jewish way of life as a means of validation before the Jerusalem church and as vindication before God, when those things are supposed to be a function of believing in Christ Jesus. Paul’s example is that the pastoral task can involve engaging in a polemical discourse when the integrity of either the gospel or believers is placed in jeopardy.

3. Paul as maternal figure In Gal. 4.12 and following, we find a discernible shift in Paul’s tone and style of argumentation. It is no less earnest, but rather than focusing on refuting the agitators, the mode of discourse is more attentive to pastoral persuasion of the Galatians. According to John Stott: ‘[I]n Galatians 1–3 we have been listening to Paul the apostle, Paul the theologian, Paul the defender of the faith; but now [in Galatians 4] we are hearing Paul the man, Paul the pastor, Paul the passionate lover of souls.’14 Here in 4.12, Paul calls the Galatians to imitate him. Since the verse lacks the typical terminology for imitation (e.g. μιμητής or μιμέομαι), and because of the added reciprocity in the immediately following line (ὅτι κἀγὼ ὡς ὑμεῖς), it has been suggested that imitation is not in view. However, to deny that this passage is about imitation seems to result from a confusion of terms with concepts (cf. 1 Thess. 1.6; 2.14; 2 Thess. 3.7, 9; 1 Cor. 4.17; 11.1; Phil. 3.17). As W. P. de Boer asserted in his study on imitation in Paul’s letters, Gal. 4.12 ‘is not an express call to imitation, but in substance it amounts to just that’.15 Therefore, this passage likely functions as a

14 John R.  W. Stott, The Message of Galatians, BST (London:  InterVarsity Press, 1968), 111. 15 Willis Peter de Boer, The Imitation of Paul:  An Exegetical Study (Kampen:  Kok, 1962), 195.

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call for imitation, recalling the paradigmatic autobiography from chs 1–2, and also recalling Paul’s original ministry among them, which he describes in 4.13–15. In this context, Paul recounts the circumstances of how he first came to preach the gospel to the Galatians on account of an undisclosed ‘weakness’ (ἀσθένεια, 4.13), and how the Galatians originally had such deep affection for him (4.14–15).16 Paul reminds his readers of this former relationship in order to contrast it with the behaviour of the agitators, who zealously seek to colonize the Galatians with a Torah-gospel (4.17–18). Taken together, these remarks are an affirmation of the fraternal bonds between Paul and his converts, which also provides a marked contrast to how they are regarded by others; Paul is self-giving towards them, while the agitators are self-serving. Next, Paul employs maternal imagery to describe his relationship with the Galatians. He says: ‘My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you, how I wish I could be with you now and change my tone, because I am perplexed about you!’ (4.19–20).17 The maternal language is reminiscent of YHWH’s own motherly concern for Israel (see Isa. 45.10). Paul’s childbirth imagery suggests that he is experiencing something of a travail to bring this church into maturity in Christ. Perhaps Paul, as founder of the church and worker for the kingdom of God, identifies with the eschatological birth pangs until Christ is formed in them (2 Cor. 1.5; 4.10; Col. 1.24).18 Nonetheless, the image of Paul as mother has been a poignant one in the history of interpretation. On this verse, William Perkins commented: In these words Paul takes to him the condition of a mother, and he signifies his most tender and motherly affection to the Galatians. It is the fashion of mothers, when their children prosper and do well, to rejoice; when they are sick or die, to mourn exceedingly and to be moved with pity and compassion. The Galatians deserved no love at Paul’s hand for their apostasy was very foul, yet because there were some good things remaining in them and there was hope of recovery, he enlarges his bowels towards them and shows his love with compassion.19

16 The main interpretation of Paul’s ἀσθένεια is that it refers to an illness, such as malaria, ophthalmia or epilepsy. However, a better case can be made for Paul’s ‘weakness’ being the result of persecution. See A. J. Goddard and S. A. Cummins, ‘Ill or Ill-Treated? Conflict and Persecution as the Context of Paul’s Original Ministry in Galatia (Galatians 4.12–20)’, JSNT 52 (1993): 93–126. 17 Cf. Beverly R. Gaventa, Our Mother Saint Paul (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007); Susan G. Eastman, Recovering Paul’s Mother Tongue:  Language and Theology in Galatians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007). 18 Thompson, Pastoral Ministry According to Paul, 70. 19 William Perkins, Commentary on Galatians, cited in Galatians, Ephesians, ed. Gerald L. Bray, Reformation Commentary on Scripture 10 (Downers Grove:  IVP Academic, 2011), 154.

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Importantly, Paul says that the goal of his ministry is the realization of the hope that ‘Christ is formed in you’, which is surely a reference to growth, maturity and transformation: an indicator that Paul considers growth into Christ-likeness as primary among the goals for the church. At the heart of this Christological formation is the centre of Paul’s chief pastoral concern in Galatians, namely that his Gentile converts recognize the full significance of the cross. In Galatians we find repeated reference to the death, suffering and cross of Christ, which undoubtedly sheds light on Paul’s pastoral concerns. As Charles Cousar said about Paul’s theology of the cross more broadly, ‘He writes of course not as a historian describing the details of how, where, when, and by whom Jesus was killed, but as a pastoral theologian interpreting the import of Jesus’ death both for the congregations under his care and for himself.’20 Cousar’s words are particularly apt for Galatians in the light of Paul’s pastoral concern that the cross of Christ be regarded rightly. Thus, as James Thompson states, ‘The ultimate goal that Christ be formed among the Christians is the center of his pastoral theology’,21 and this finds its particular application in relation to the cross in Paul’s letter to the Galatians. The following allegory of 4.21–31, often baffling to interpreters, is not a hermeneutical sideshow, but is part and parcel of Paul’s pastoral aims. Paul wants the Galatians to realize that they are children of freedom, not slaves to the law. Cousar says that what we find here is Paul in his two best roles: as pastor and as exegete. Paul wants the Galatians to see themselves in the family of Abraham, born in freedom and children of the promise. Cousar comments: ‘Paul as interpreter of the Old Testament stories is still Paul the Pastor, confronting the texts not in a vacuum as a detached scholar but with the plight of his people very much in mind.’22 Coming to the series of exhortations in Gal. 5–6, we notice how Paul wants to make clear that his gospel is not antinomian and that it possesses within it sufficient resources to transform them into a proper household of faith. As well, Paul attempts to demonstrate that the agitators, in their insistence on circumcision, are producing the divisive ‘works of the flesh’, which is tearing the community apart (5.19–21; cf. 5.10, 12, 14). Paul’s gospel leads to a people who are not controlled by the flesh, but through the Spirit attain the loving behaviour that is the goal of the Torah. This section is certainly not excursive or extraneous to Paul’s polemical section. As Matera rightly argued, in the so-called paraenetic material, Paul is still mounting his argument.23 This is because Paul’s goal for

20 Charles B. Cousar, A Theology of the Cross: The Death of Jesus in the Pauline Letters, OBT 24 (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990), 1. 21 Thompson, Pastoral Ministry According to Paul, 70. 22 Charles B. Cousar, Galatians, IBC (Louisville: John Knox, 1982), 102. 23 Frank J. Matera, ‘The Culmination of Paul’s Argument to the Galatians: Gal. 5.1– 6.17’, JSNT 32 (1988): 79–91. See also the excellent study on Gal. 5–6 by John M. G. Barclay, Obeying the Truth: Paul’s Ethics in Galatians (Vancouver: Regent College Publishing, 2005),

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the Galatian churches is that they be conformed to Christ and transformed by the Spirit. This is what is on the line. The Galatian believers will attain neither Christoformity nor Spirit-led behaviour by relying on the Torah-gospel of the agitators. Paul believes that it is only the cross-centred gospel that he proclaims and the work of the Spirit that will make the Galatian assemblies the transformed communities they were called to be. Once more, Thompson puts it well: ‘Paul’s pastoral theology becomes evident in his attempt to complete the community’s narrative.’24

4. Conclusion While Paul is undoubtedly annoyed and exasperated by the Galatians, he is also at least a little optimistic. He says at one point: ‘I am confident in the Lord that you will take no other view. The one who is throwing you into confusion, whoever that may be, will have to pay the penalty’ (5.10). Paul was hopeful that the Galatians would come around to his way of seeing things, realize that they had been led astray by the agitators and reject the nomistic gospel that was being put to them. In the course of forming that argument, we have seen that Paul is somewhat of a heresiologist or pastoral polemicist by contending so resolutely against the Torahgospel of the agitators. Yet we have also observed Paul’s pastoral and even maternal concern for their welfare and well-being, especially as it pertains to the type of community they will be. While Galatians might be best remembered as a polemical tract against the wrongly named ‘Judaizers’, or even against the medieval Catholics who comprised Luther’s popish devils, we should probably remember Galatians more as a pastoral letter. Paul is not writing to cajole the Galatians into accepting his doctrinal standards for the sake of their own inherent rightness. What Paul wants – and this is the most pertinent point – is that those called by Christ should be conformed to Christ, and particularly to his cross. For Paul, ‘obeying the truth’ means clinging to the one who called them and then attaining a stage of conformity to Christ. This is why Paul emphasizes both his call and the call they have received in the gospel (1.6, 15; 5.8, 13). This is why he drives the Christ-versus-Torah contrast so violently – and even riskily, if you think where the trajectory might have gone if we did not have Romans.25 Paul’s pastoral aim is that the Galatians believe in which demonstrates how interconnected the final chapters are to the particular crisis in Galatia and Paul’s arguments in the letter. 24 Thompson, Pastoral Ministry According to Paul, 62. 25 For example, 3.19 states that the law was given ‘through angels’ rather than ‘by God’. Richard Hays asserts that Paul comes ‘dangerously close’ to saying that God did not give the law, and that such was ripe for distortion: ‘this is the Paul that Marcion knew and loved’. See Richard B. Hays, ‘Crucified with Christ: A Synthesis of the Theology of 1 and 2 Thessalonians, Philemon, Philippians, and Galatians’, in Pauline Theology, vol. 1: Thessalonians, Philippians, Galatians, Philemon, ed. Jouette M. Bassler (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 244.

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a Christ-centred gospel and follow the lead of the Spirit as the only sure way to redemption and transformation. These are tasks that are noble and worthy of the time of any pastor. No wonder Martin Luther said about this letter:  ‘Look how much the apostle loves the Galatians . . . how he suffers for them, labors for them, worries about them. What a model for the Christian pastor!’26

26 Martin Luther, First Lectures on Galatians, cited in Bray, Galatians, Ephesians, 153.

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Chapter 7 P AU L A N D P A ST O R S I N E P H E SIA N S : T H E P A ST O R A S T E AC H E R Peter C. Orr

1. Introduction The benefit of considering the theme of ‘Paul as pastor’ in Ephesians is that it is only in this letter that Paul actually discusses the role of the pastor (in 4.11–12). In fact, this is the only occurrence of ποιμήν in his extant letters.1 The downside, however, is that the passage in question is extremely contested. This chapter, then, will start by examining these verses and Paul’s understanding of the pastor’s role and will seek to see how this understanding reflects Paul’s own relationship to the Ephesians in the rest of the letter.2

2. The pastor’s role in Ephesians 4.11–12 In Ephesians 4, Paul starts by considering the unity that believers share and urging them to be ‘eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace’ (4.3).3 This unity in their relationships with one another is not something to be grasped at, but something they are to maintain or retain (τηρεῖν). This is because it is already grounded in the existing theological realities of the singleness of the body (ἕν σῶμα), the Spirit (ἓν πνεῦμα), the hope to which they were called (μία ἐλπίδι), the Lord (εἷς κύριος), faith (μία πίστις), baptism (ἓν βάπτισμα) and, most fundamentally, God (εἷς θεός), who is ‘Father of all’ and ‘through all and in all’ (4.4–5).

1 For the sake of this chapter, I assume Pauline authorship of the letter to the Ephesians; there seems to be an increasing willingness to at least allow for this possibility. See, for example, N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, COQG 4 (London: SPCK, 2013), 60–61. 2 I will refer to the letter recipients as ‘the Ephesians’. On the debate concerning the originality of ἐν Ἐφέσῳ in 1.1, see Clinton E. Arnold, Ephesians, ZECNT 10 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2011), 23–29, who argues for its originality. 3 All quotations from the ESV except where noted (any italics added).

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However, this strong note of unity does not reduce Christian life together to a rigid uniformity. Paul stresses that to each one (ἑνὶ ἑκάστῳ), that is, every believer, grace has been given according to the measure of the gift of Christ (κατὰ τὸ μέτρον τῆς δωρεᾶς τοῦ Χριστοῦ) (4.7).4 That is, Christ graciously equips all believers with the capability they need ‘to accomplish the task that the gift requires’.5 Paul cites Scripture in support of the idea that the ascended Christ gave gifts to his people.6 As he continues, Paul changes focus slightly from ‘gifts made to people’ (4.7) to ‘gifts of people’ (4.11).7 The people that Paul gives are ‘the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers’ (τοὺς μὲν ἀποστόλους, τοὺς δὲ προφήτας, τοὺς δὲ εὐαγγελιστάς, τοὺς δὲ ποιμένας καὶ διδασκάλους; my translation). Here we have reference to pastors or shepherds (ποιμένες). Despite the contemporary preference to describe Protestant church leaders as pastors, this word is relatively rare in the New Testament. In fact, this is the only place in the New Testament where it is applied to church leaders. It is applied to Jesus himself in Heb. 13.20 and 1 Pet. 2.25. Paul uses related words in his sermon to the Ephesian elders in Acts 20.28–29, when he tells the elders to shepherd (ποιμαίνειν) the church and to care for the flock (τῷ ποιμνίῳ).8 The word ποιμήν can refer quite simply to one who herds sheep (e.g. Gen. 4.2; Exod. 2.17; Job 1.16; Lk. 2.8; 1 Cor. 9.7). However, very early on in the Old Testament, the word is applied metaphorically to the leadership of people.9 So, in the Old Testament, it is frequently applied to God (Gen. 49.24; Pss 23.1; 80.1; Isa. 40.11; Ezek. 34.12) as well as the leaders of the people (Num. 27.17; 1 Sam. 24.17; Ps. 78.71; Jer. 2.8; Ezek. 34.2). In the New Testament, the noun ποιμήν is applied to Christ (Mt. 2.6; 26.31; Jn 10.11; Heb. 13.20; 1 Pet. 2.25; 5.4; Rev. 7.17) and shepherd imagery is applied to the leaders of God’s people, both positively (Acts 20.28; 1 Pet. 5.2) and negatively (Jude 12). Paul’s usage of the word

4 So Ernest Best, Ephesians, ICC (London:  T&T Clark, 1998), 376–77; contra Helmut Merklein, Das kirchliche Amt nach dem Epheserbrief, SANT 33 (München:  Kösel, 1973), 58–62. 5 So Frank Thielman, Ephesians, BECNT 10 (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2010), 264. 6 Ephesians 4.8–10 is notoriously complex. On the issues concerning Paul’s citation of Ps. 68.18 [67.19] and the exact nature of his ascent and descent, see Thielman, Ephesians, 264–73. The suggestion of Hall Harris, that Paul understands the descent of Christ here to be his descent ‘as the Spirit’ and hence to imply ‘a functional relationship amounting to experiential identity’, creates more problems than it solves; W. Hall Harris III, The Descent of Christ: Ephesians 4:7–11 and Traditional Hebrew Imagery, AGJU 32 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 192. On this, see Peter Orr, Christ Absent and Present: A Study in Pauline Christology, WUNT 2/354 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 208–12. 7 Best, Ephesians, 388. 8 See Arnold, Ephesians, 260. 9 The image may well have entered Jewish thought via its use in the wider ANE. See further Best, Ephesians, 392 n.31.

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here, then, suggests that he has in mind people with a leadership role in the church, possibly referring to the same people identified elsewhere as overseers (ἐπίσκοπους; Phil. 1.1; 1 Tim. 3.2; Tit. 1.7) or elders (πρεσβύτερους; 1 Tim. 5.1; 1 Pet. 5.1). Of particular interest for our purposes is the relationship Paul understands in this verse between pastors and teachers. As has frequently been noted, unlike the others in the series (apostles, prophets, evangelists), the word for shepherds or pastors is conjoined to the word for teachers, with one article governing both (τοὺς δὲ ποιμένας καὶ διδασκάλους). This raises the question of the relationship between the two. The expression could be a hendiadys, that is, ‘teaching shepherds’.10 This would cohere with parallel texts in the New Testament that strongly link the function of teaching to elders, shepherds and overseers (e.g. 1 Tim. 3.2; Tit. 1.9).11 Others argue, however, that two groups are envisaged. The use of a single article does not necessitate their identification any more than the similar construction in Eph. 2.20 (ἐπὶ τῷ θεμελίῳ τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ προφητῶν) necessitates the identification of apostles and prophets.12 Still others suggest that some sort of overlapping relationship is in view, such that Paul is indicating that ‘almost all pastors were also teachers, [but] not all teachers were also pastors’.13 Although we cannot answer this question by exclusively appealing to syntax, in the following section we will briefly examine the expression τοὺς δὲ ποιμένας καὶ διδασκάλους in relation to other similar constructions. With one article governing two nouns linked by καί, this is an example of a Granville Sharp construction (often abbreviated as TSKS).14 It has been argued that, when the Granville Sharp construction consists of two singular, nonproper nouns, both nouns have the same referent. For example, in Heb. 3.1 (τὸν ἀπόστολον καὶ ἀρχιερέα τῆς ὁμολογίας ἡμῶν), Jesus is both apostle and high priest. This understanding of consistent identity in singular constructions has been the subject of controversy, in part because of certain verses where the rule suggests that Christ is being specifically identified as God (e.g. Tit. 2.13; 2 Pet. 1.1).15 However, plural constructions are more complicated and admit a range of possible relationships between the two nouns. This necessitates a more 10 So Markus Barth, Ephesians, AB 34, 2 vols. (Garden City : Doubleday, 1974), 438–39, and William J. Larkin, Ephesians: A Handbook on the Greek Text, BHGNT (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2009), 78. 11 Barth, Ephesians, 438 n.78, points out that, in the NT, ‘Repeatedly the nouns “shepherd,” “bishop,” “elder” and the verbs expressing the function of the first two, appear to be synonyms.’ See 1 Pet. 5.1–2; Acts 20.28–31. 12 Thielman, Ephesians, 275. 13 Andrew T. Lincoln, Ephesians, WBC 42 (Dallas: Word, 1990), 250. 14 That is, with a somewhat inconsistent mixing of Greek, English and grammatical categories, ‘the-Substantive-Kai-Substantive’. 15 See, for example, Stanley E. Porter’s review of Granville Sharp’s Canon and Its Kin: Semantics and Significance by Daniel B. Wallace, JETS 53 (2010): 828–32.

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cautious examination of the construction in our passage, especially given that, as Wallace suggests, ‘The TSKS construction in this text [Eph. 4.11] is the most abused plural personal construction in the NT.’16 Wallace summarizes the possibilities for plural TSKS constructions as follows: a. Discrete but related groups (‘pastors and teachers’) Here the construction indicates two distinct groups that are acting in a united way: ‘the X and Y’. The article, then, marks out ‘select groups within a larger implied unity’, for example in the English expression ‘the Democrats and Republicans approved the bill unanimously’. Wallace suggests that there are nineteen examples of this sense in the New Testament, including Mt. 3.7 (τῶν Φαρισαίων καὶ Σαδδουκαίων, ‘the Pharisees and Sadducees’). In Eph. 4.11, this understanding of the construction would mean that Paul is thinking of ‘pastors and teachers’ as two distinct groups but, in the context of the passage, related in the same way that apostles and prophets are related, with both having the same function as he expands on in the following verses. b. Overlapping groups (‘pastors and/or teachers’) Here the idea is that some but not all members of the first group belong to the second group and vice versa: ‘the X and/or Y’, for example ‘the healthy and wealthy and wise’. There are three examples of this sense in the New Testament, including Lk. 14.21 (τοὺς πτωχοὺς καὶ ἀναπείρους καὶ τυφλοὺς καὶ χωλοὺς, ‘the poor and crippled and blind and lame’). The idea is that these are not mutually exclusive groups, since many blind people will be poor, etc. In Eph. 4.11, Paul would mean ‘pastors and/or teachers’. c. First group as subset of the second (‘pastors and other teachers’) As with the previous example, here the two groups overlap, but we can be a bit more specific in that the first is a subset of the second: ‘the X and [other] Y’, for example ‘murderers and other sinners’. There are seven examples of this sense in the New Testament, including Mt. 9.11 (τῶν τελωνῶν καὶ ἁμαρτωλῶν, ‘the tax collectors and [other] sinners’). In Eph. 4.11, Paul would mean ‘the pastors and other teachers’, thus implying that all pastors are teachers but there exist other teachers who are not pastors.

16 Daniel B. Wallace, Granville Sharp’s Canon and Its Kin: Semantics and Significance (New  York:  Peter Lang, 2008), 228. It has been argued that this construction is not a genuine TSKS. See, for example, Stanley E. Porter, Idioms of the Greek New Testament (Sheffield:  Sheffield Academic, 1992), 113, who argues for a partitive sense: ‘he gave some apostles, some prophets’, etc. Against this, see Merklein, Das kirchliche Amt, 73–75.

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d. Second group as subset of first (‘pastors and, in particular, teachers’) Again the groups overlap, but in a reverse way: ‘the X and [in particular] Y’, for example ‘sinners and, in particular, murderers’. There are four examples of this sense, including Mk 2.16 (τῶν ἁμαρτωλῶν καὶ τελωνῶν, ‘the sinners and, in particular, the tax collectors’). In Eph. 4.11, Paul would mean something like ‘pastors and, in particular, teaching pastors’. That is, the ‘teachers’ are a specific group of pastors, but there also exist pastors who are not teachers. e. Both groups identical (‘teaching pastors’) Here the two terms are synonymous:  ‘the X are Y’, for example ‘the sinners are law-breakers’. This is by far the largest group, with twenty-nine of the seventythree examples having this sense in the New Testament, including Rev. 1.3 (Μακάριος . . . οἱ ἀκούοντες τοὺς λόγους τῆς προφητείας καὶ τηροῦντες, ‘blessed are those who hear . . . and obey’). In Eph. 4.11, then, pastors are teachers and teachers are pastors and the phrase is a hendiadys:  ‘teaching pastors’. However, although this sense dominates the construction in the New Testament, the details suggest that we should not just automatically assume that this is the most likely explanation for Eph. 4.11. Of the twenty-nine examples, twenty-four contain participles. As Wallace notes, since participles relate to activities rather than innate characteristics, they lend themselves to this kind of construction, where both entities are identical. That is, ‘To predicate the same multiple acts of one group is natural enough; to predicate the same multiple characteristics or . . . titles of one group is far less natural.’ In fact, only five of the twenty-nine instances Wallace cites have non-participles (including Rom. 16.7, ἀσπάσασθε Ἀνδρόνικον καὶ Ἰουνιᾶν τοὺς συγγενεῖς μου καὶ συναιχμαλώτους, ‘greet . . . my relatives and fellow prisoners’). As such, although this is the largest semantic group, it is very weakly attested with non-participial constructions. In fact, none of the constructions Wallace identifies consists entirely of nouns. In summarizing the range of possibilities, Wallace suggests that ‘this semantic range is on a spectrum in which absolute discreteness and absolute identity represent the two poles, with various kinds of referential overlap taking up the medial positions’.17 Wallace also examines material outside the New Testament and finds the ‘same semantic silhouettes’ in the papyri, the LXX and patristic writings.18 This does seem to fit with what we see of other similar constructions, that is, where you have one or more nouns particularly related to tasks connected in this way. So, for example, in Josephus’s Antiquities 11.81, he mentions οἱ δὲ ἱερεῖς καὶ Λευῖται. Clearly this is an example of the second as a subset of the first (‘priests and the other Levites’). All priests were Levites, but not all Levites were priests (the others helped with temple furniture, etc.; cf. Lk. 10.31–32). Similarly, the author of the 17 Wallace, Granville Sharp’s Canon, 141. 18 Ibid., 156.

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Didache in 11.3 discourses περὶ δὲ τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ προφητῶν (‘concerning apostles and prophets’). Obviously two groups are in view, and in the next verse the author discusses apostles, while in 11.7 he talks about prophets (cf. Eph. 2.20: τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ προφητῶν). As such, according to Wallace’s analysis, if we are measuring statistically, the most likely options for Eph. 4.11 are that two groups are in view (‘pastors and teachers’) or that the first is a subset of the second (‘pastors and other teachers’). So are pastors simply related to teachers in terms of their function? That is, like prophets and apostles and evangelists, are pastors and teachers concerned with the communication of the word? Or are pastors a subset of a larger group of teachers, that is, not all teachers are pastors but all pastors are teachers? Both, as we have seen, are grammatically possible. On balance, though, the second option seems more likely, given that the single article governing the two nouns actually distinguishes them from the others in the list. If we simply had τοὺς δὲ ποιμένας καὶ διδασκάλους, perhaps, as in 2.20, we would see this one article governing two related groups. However, given that Paul has chosen to govern these two with one article in distinction from others in the list, each of which has its own article, on balance it seems that he is assuming an intentional indication that the relationship between pastors and teachers is much closer than the relationship between the others in the list. So, in short, albeit somewhat tentatively, we conclude that pastors for Paul in Ephesians make up a subset of a larger group of teachers. As such, fundamentally then, pastors are teachers.

3. The pastor’s role But what, according to Paul, do pastors do? In these verses, they perform the same functions as prophets, apostles, teachers and evangelists. However, comparing two English versions reveals the exegetical issue. ESV: And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ.

Pastors equip the saints so that the saints can do the work of ministry so that the body is built up. Here, then, is the idea that it is not exclusively the pastor who does ministry, but the saints, that is, the rest of God’s people. The pastor equips the church members, and they do the ministry. Understood this way, these verses would strongly affirm the idea of ‘lay ministry’. However, if we consult an older translation, we see the issue: KJV: And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ.

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Here the pastor has three coordinate tasks: one is perfecting (not equipping) the saints, another is the work of ministry and another is edifying the body of Christ. So, the exegetical issue is whether we have three coordinate phrases describing the task of the pastor (and in fact the other roles in the list) or the second two are dependent on the first – the pastor equips and the people do the work of ministry so that the church is built up. Until recently, most modern translations and commentators have favoured the second interpretation. However, increasingly this interpretation is being rejected as a novelty that arose in the twentieth century precisely because it resonated with the move away from clericalism and towards what we might label a more democratic ‘every-member ministry’.19 Part of the argument turns on the prepositions that Paul uses and the significance, or not, of the change from πρός to εἰς. The newer interpretation, it is argued, gives weight to the change in prepositions that we see here. Pastors are given to (πρός) equip the saints for (εἰς) the work of ministry for (εἰς) building up the body of Christ. The change in preposition, it is argued, reflects the idea that the clauses operate differently with the switch to εἰς, indicating that the second two clauses are dependent on the first. The problem, however, is that elsewhere these prepositions can be used synonymously, as the following examples demonstrate:20 Rom. 3.25–26:  God put forward (Jesus) as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to (εἰς) show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to (πρός) show his righteousness at the present time, so that (εἰς) he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus. Rom. 15.2:  Let each of us please our neighbor for (εἰς) the good, for (πρός) building up. Phlm. 5: As I hear of the love and the faith you have for (πρός) the Lord Jesus and for (εἰς) all the holy ones.

It would seem that the prepositions εἰς and πρός can be used interchangeably, and so there is little justification in arguing that the change in prepositions indicates a change in coordination.21

19 For example, Lincoln, Ephesians, 253; John C. O’Neill, ‘“The Work of the Ministry” in Ephesians 4:12 and the New Testament’, ExpTim 112 (2001): 339–40; Sydney Page, ‘Whose Ministry? A Re-Appraisal of Ephesians 4:12’, NovT 47 (2005): 26–46. 20 These examples are cited in O’Neill, ‘ “The Work of the Ministry” ’. 21 As Lincoln, Ephesians, 253, argues, ‘the change of preposition [in 4.12] cannot bear the weight of such an argument, and there are, in fact, no grammatical or linguistic grounds for making a specific link between the first and second phrases’.

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In fact, even in the immediate context, Paul is happy to switch prepositions in this way: Eph. 4.13–14: Until we all attain to (εἰς) the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to (εἰς) mature manhood, to (εἰς) the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by (ἐν) every wind of doctrine, by (ἐν) human cunning, by (πρός) craftiness in deceitful schemes.

Another argument against the modern interpretation is that the meaning of the hapax καταρτισμός, which is often translated as ‘equip’ (‘to equip the saints’), is better understood as ‘bring to maturity’.22 This translation would further count against the idea that the second and third phrases are dependent on the first. If people are equipped, they are equipped to do something, but if they are brought to maturity, that implies an end in itself. Further, it is argued that διακονία in the second clause is a technical term referring to formal ministry (i.e. ‘the ministry of the word’) and ‘frequently seems to carry an official nuance’.23 As such, it is a description of what the pastors themselves do, not of what they prepare others to do. So there are strong arguments against the modern rendering of these verses. Paul, it is argued, is not saying that pastors equip congregation members to do the work of ministry so that the body of Christ might be built up. No, Paul has three tasks for the pastor: bringing the saints to maturity, doing the work of ministry and edifying the church. The modern idea of every-member ministry may be taught elsewhere, it is argued, but it is not in these verses. There is weight to this argument, but ultimately, for a number of reasons, I think the translation that sees a progression in these verses and the saints doing the work of ministry is, in fact, correct. First, the change in prepositions is not the only indicator that we are to understand the clauses to be functioning differently. It is not simply the switch from πρός to εἰς, which could simply be a stylistic variation, but the addition of the article before the εἰς clauses, which indicates that the clauses are operating differently.24 Second, the reference to ‘saints’ (οἱ ἅγιοί) in 4.12 weighs against the idea that we are moving from the work of ministers in v. 12 to the rest of the church in v. 13. The mention of saints towards the beginning of v. 12 suggests that this is the point when the change in agency occurs.25 Third is the consideration of the meaning of καταρτισμός. The word is rare 22 So John Jefferson Davis, ‘Ephesians 4:12 Once More: “Equipping the Saints for the Work of Ministry?”’, Evangelical Review of Theology 24 (2000): 174. 23 Thielman, Ephesians, 278, who lists Acts 6.4; 2 Cor. 3.6–8; 4.1; 5.18; 6.3; Rom. 11.13; Acts 20.24; 21.19; 1 Tim. 1.12; 2 Tim. 4.5. 24 So Thielman, Ephesians, 278. 25 So Best, Ephesians, 395–99.

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enough, being used only here in biblical Greek.26 It is commonly used in medical texts to refer to the setting of broken bones. There are, however, three uses in the papyri where the word is used with reference to furnishing a shrine, a house and a chamber.27 Though the context is different, this fits the idea of providing what is needed. The pastor furnishes the saint for the work of ministry. This is underlined when cognates are examined: κατάρτισις, also a New Testament hapax (2 Cor. 13.9), is used in Plutarch’s Life of Alexander (667.7, 1) to refer to Aristotle’s ‘training’ of Alexander; καταρτίζω is a more common New Testament word with a spectrum of nuances, including ‘preparation’.28 So the idea of ‘preparation’ or ‘equipping’ is certainly possible, based on the limited use of the word itself and the range of meanings of its cognates. Fourth, the objection that this is a relatively new interpretation that arose purely to bolster a democratic age is inaccurate. The interpretation goes back at least as far as the mid-nineteenth century.29 And the scholars who proposed it include Westcott, the former bishop of Durham, who stated, ‘However foreign the idea of the spiritual ministry of all “the saints” is to our mode of thinking, it was the life of the apostolic church.’30 However, finally, it is the immediate context that is the strongest argument for seeing what we might call ‘lay ministry’ in view here. The whole point of the passage is to stress the role of every believer in the task of building the body. The immediate context is framed by v. 7 (each believer being given grace: ἑνὶ δὲ ἑκάστῳ ἡμῶν) and v. 16 (the whole body growing as each part [ἑνὸς ἑκάστου μέρους] does its work). For Paul in Ephesians, then, the pastor is a teacher whose role is to equip others for the work of ministry. The goal is that the body might be built up to ‘come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ’ (Eph. 4.13 RSV). For Paul, unity, knowledge and maturity depend on every Christian doing the work of the ministry. In this context, this is word ministry, since the only ministry that Paul specifically identifies here is v. 15: ‘speaking the truth’ (ἀληθεύοντες).31 Paul has already referred to the truth in 1.13: ‘the word of the truth, the gospel’. As such, the picture here is a church where everyone is speaking the truth of the gospel to one another.32 This is 26 Note, though, that Symmachus’s version of Isa. 38.12 has it and it seems to have the sense of ‘restoration’. 27 See Page, ‘Whose Ministry?’, 33. 28 Cf. the two suggestions of BDAG 526: ‘(1) to cause to be in a condition to function well, put in order, restore’ and ‘(2) to prepare for a purpose, prepare, make, create, outfit’. Other occurrences of καταρτίζω are Mt. 4.21; 21.16; Mk 1.19; Lk. 6.40; Rom. 9.22; 1 Cor. 1.10; 2 Cor. 13.11; Gal. 6.1; 1 Thess. 3.10; Heb. 10.5; 11.3; 13.21; 1 Pet. 5.10. 29 See W. M. L. de Wette, Kurze Erklärung der Briefe an die Kolosser, an Philemon, an die Epheser und Philipper, Kurzgefasstes exegetisches Handbuch zum Neuen Testament (Leipzig: Weidmann’sche Buchhandlung, 1843), cited in Thielman, Ephesians, 479. 30 Cited in Thielman, Ephesians, 279. 31 Larkin, Ephesians, 82. 32 Ibid.

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the work of ministry that Paul sees people being equipped for. Verse 14 underlines the necessity of this ‘every-member ministry’; it must happen so that the church ‘may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes’. The vividness of the image underlines the force of Paul’s exhortation. Children (νήπιοι) are helpless. Without people to care for them, they perish. But the children in this image are on their own in the middle of the ocean, being buffeted by wind and waves and surrounded by crafty, cunning people who seek to destroy them! This is a church without the every-member gospel ministry. For Paul in Ephesians, then, the pastor’s role is to ensure that all Christians engage in ministry to build up the church. So we have seen that for Paul, the pastor seems particularly closely associated with the teacher – it is a teaching role – and that the job of the pastor is to equip God’s people so that they can do the work of ministry, so that the Church will be built up in maturity.

4. Paul as pastor in Ephesians For Paul, pastor and congregation together are recipients of God’s grace and serve him in response: ‘grace was given to each one of us according to the measure of Christ’s gift’ (4.7). And Paul uses this language of grace and giving of himself when he reminds the Ephesians of the ‘stewardship of God’s grace that was given’ to him for them (3.2). Just as the pastor (and the teacher, prophet, apostle and evangelist) is given grace to then equip the saints, so Paul is given grace for the Ephesians. In Ephesians we see the close connection that we saw in 4.11 between pastor and teacher. Paul’s fundamental concern in this letter is with the Ephesians’ grasp of the gospel. For Paul the pastor is – and inasmuch as he functions as a pastor, Paul himself is – one who wants his recipients to clearly grasp the knowledge of the gospel. As frequently noted, Ephesians displays the typical indicative-imperative structure of a Pauline letter. The indicative is heavily theological. The knowledge Paul lays out is profound in its extent and depth. This focus on knowledge and teaching reflects a clear concern that, while the Ephesians have ‘learned Christ’ (4.20), Paul wants them to continue to grow in their knowledge of the gospel. This is reflected in Paul’s prayers. So following 1.3–14, having outlined the reality of their blessings in Christ, part of which is the knowledge of God’s will (1.9), in 1.15 we have a prayer for knowledge. Paul prays that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you. (1.17–18)

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Again in ch. 3, he prays for them that they may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. (3.18–19)

The knowledge motif is also expressed negatively: Now this I  say and testify in the Lord, that you must no longer walk as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their minds. They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, due to their hardness of heart. (4.17–18)

Those Gentiles outside can fundamentally be cast in terms of their knowledge. This is in marked contrast to the recipients of the letter: But that is not the way you learned Christ! – assuming that you have heard about him and were taught in him, as the truth is in Jesus, to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds. (4.20–23)

The way from outside to inside, then, is to learn Christ. The Ephesians have been taught in him – taught about him, taught how to live. They have been taught to be renewed in their minds. Paul’s ethical exhortations are also closely tied to this idea of knowledge: Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. (5.15–16)

Though this is not a unique emphasis compared to Paul’s other letters, the frequency and prominence in this letter indicate a sharper focus.

5. Conclusion Paul does not describe himself as a pastor in this letter, but he does discuss the role of the pastor and his own role: Of this gospel I was made a minister (διάκονος) according to the gift of God’s grace, which was given me by the working of his power. To me, though I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ, and to bring to light for everyone what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things, so that through the

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Paul sees that his role as a minister is to make the knowledge of God’s plan known. And this is what he sees the pastor doing as a teacher, teaching Christ and equipping God’s people to do the work of ministry, that is, to ‘speak God’s truth’ to one another. The pastor in Ephesians, and Paul himself inasmuch as he embodies the role, is one who ensures that the knowledge of God in the Gospel is known and disseminated so that the church can be established and grow into maturity ‘in Christ’.

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Chapter 8 P AU L A N D P A ST O R S I N P H I L I P P IA N S : W H E N S TA F F T E A M S D I S AG R E E Sarah Harris

This chapter examines the beginnings of the church at Lydia’s house, Paul’s focus on partnership in the letter and the significance of the ministry of Euodia and Syntyche. The women are Paul’s συνεργοί (Phil. 4.3), but they are in some form of disagreement, which Paul as pastor must address for the sake of the church and its witness in Philippi. Paul has several reasons to write to the church: they were suffering at the hands of the members of the church (1.27–30), challenged by libertines (3.19) and at risk of being influenced by visiting Judaizers (3.2), and he wanted to thank them for their generous gifts (4.10–20). However, the problem of internal unrest that Paul addresses directly is often underplayed, perhaps from an a priori belief that women were not leaders in the church. John Reumann is correct that ‘traditionalist, masculine readings have often obscured 4.2–3’.1 The heart of Paul’s letter is caught up with the need for partnership and unity, ultimately driving towards his direct address to the women in vv. 2–3 showing how central they are to this letter and the church. This conflict permeates almost the entire letter, and it is likely to be a dispute that affects the whole community, therefore we must assume it is more than a matter of simple animosity. As Gordon Fee comments, ‘Paul now proceeds to make his final appeal, which is where much of the letter has been heading right along.’2

1. Philippi and the beginnings of the church at Lydia’s house Paul was the founder of the church in Philippi, which began in AD 49 when Lydia opened her heart to the Lord (Acts 16.14). Philippi had its early roots as a Greek colony, but in 356 BC King Philip II of Macedon brought the city under his control and renamed it after himself. As Rome’s political strength grew, it was 1 John Reumann, Philippians, AYB 33B (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008), 627. 2 Gordon D. Fee, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, NICNT (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 1995), 389.

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established as a Roman province, a helpful outpost on the Via Egnatia, an overland link between Rome and the East. The city, however, came to centre stage when Brutus and Cassius, the people behind Julius Caesar’s assassination, were defeated at Philippi by Octavian and Anthony in 42 BC and it became a Roman colony. It was Octavian who would be the ultimate victor, and in the Battle of Actium in 31 BC, he defeated Anthony, refounding and renaming the city after himself (Colonia Augusta Iulia Philippensis). Philippi, therefore, had a close connection to Rome, which it took pride in and was keen to display. The city grew as troops were given land in Philippi and the environment took on a distinctly Roman flavour. The city built a triumphal arch to show its allegiance to Rome in the early first century, a sure sign of loyalty to Augustus and the Empire.3 By the second century, the city of 10,000 to 15,000 people had two temples in the Roman Forum dedicated to Augustus, and its religious identity was as much tied to Rome as it was to the Graeco-Roman gods and goddesses.4 Eighty percent of all the inscriptions found in Philippi are in Latin, not Greek, the lingua franca of the ancient world.5 In this, Philippi stood apart from other places; in Pisidian Antioch, for example, only 40 per cent of their inscriptions were in Latin.6 Philippi’s adherence to the Roman language and the physical structures that drew attention to Rome and the empire created ‘sign systems’ for the people, and these affected the culture of the city.7 The city was aptly nicknamed ‘Little Rome’. When Paul and the other men entered in AD 49 and Paul cast out the spirit from the slave girl, Luke says they were charged with advocating customs that were not lawful ‘for us Romans to accept or practise’ (Acts 16.21). Philippi was proud of its Roman culture and practice, so when these men came with new ideas and challenged their worldview, the local magistrates had them stripped, beaten with rods and severely flogged before they were tossed into jail (16.22–23). Paul reflects on this in 1 Thess. 2.2 as a time when they suffered and were ‘shamelessly mistreated’. This Roman allegiance was so ingrained in the Philippian people that Paul would later remind the Christians that their true citizenship was in heaven (Phil. 1.27; 3.20). The church began with the conversion of Lydia, who is pictured as a faithful God-fearer. She was meeting with other women at the place of prayer (προσευχή), suggesting that there were not enough Jewish men to form a quorum and so a formal synagogue. Luke uses the language of συναγωγή frequently, and he does so

3 See Ben Witherington III, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 2011), 5. 4 The population figure is based on the capacity of the theatre and geographical size. See Peter Oakes, Philippians: From People to Letter, SNTSMS 110 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 44–52. 5 Witherington, Philippians, 5. 6 Ibid. 7 Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge (Garden City : Anchor, 1967), 36–41.

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when Paul visits the nearby cities of Thessalonica and Berea (Acts 17.1, 10), but he does not do so here.8 Women were prominent in the early Macedonian churches; Thessalonica was the place where Luke says the world was being turned upside down (17.6), a comment perhaps related to the way that women were embracing the gospel. In Berea, the women are even mentioned before the men, which could indicate that they were responding in greater numbers.9 The place of prayer was most likely by the river, where there may have been some type of building. Luke’s text presents only women at the worship gathering, which causes the reader to question why this is so. With no Jewish or God-fearing men at all gathering to pray, it is conceivable there were no Jewish men in Philippi at this time10 and that this proud Roman colony might have embraced the expulsion of Jews from Rome under Tiberius in AD 19 and forbidden the gathering together of Jews from the Claudian edict in AD 49 (Dio Cassius 60.6.6–7).11 It is even possible that it was a city where Judaism never really took root due to periods of toleration and persecution, and that Jewish people settled instead in the nearby cities of Thessalonica and Berea. The close allegiance to Rome that shaped so much of life in Philippi may have caused too much religious dissonance. This lack of Jewish presence is also found in the letter; Paul uses no Old Testament quotes at all in his writing, and only a few allusions (Phil. 1.19; 2.10–11, 15). There is also no mention of Jewish customs or festivals, possibly because in a largely (or wholly) Gentile church, these customs were not practised. Paul does refer to his Jewish heritage in 3.4–6, but this is rhetorical and aims to show the surpassing gain believers have in Christ. What can be said of Lydia, who gathered with other women to pray? She is a businesswomen dealing in purple cloth (Acts 16.14) and a woman of some social status, for she confidently addresses Paul, asking that they might stay with her (16.15). Lydia is also a property owner whose house and household become the centre of the fledgling church (16.40); as such, she is a woman of some means. She is also receptive to the gospel. Luke tells us that God opened her heart to the good news, and so she and her household were baptized. This meant that Lydia was able to demonstrate her allegiance to God with a covenant sign, something Godfearing or Jewish woman could never do. Christianity was forging a new path not only for Gentiles, but for women. Scholars, too, often see Lydia’s story as a precursor to the ‘real’ story of the jailer’s conversion and Paul and Silas’s divine rescue, yet this underplays the narrative framing of Lydia (Acts 16.11–15, 40) and the slave girl whose deliverance

8 For συναγωγή language: Acts 6.9; 9.2, 20; 13.5, 14, 43; 14.1; 15.21; 17.1, 10, 17; 18.4, 7, 19, 26; 19.8; 22.19; 24.12; 26.11. 9 Ben Witherington III, The Acts of the Apostles:  A  Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 509 n.171. 10 Oakes, Philippians, 58–59. 11 The Claudian Edict of 49, which expelled Jews from Rome, may have also been adhered to in Philippi (Suetonius, Claudius 25; Acts 18.2).

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brings about Paul and Silas’s time in jail. The passage begins with Lydia’s significant conversion as the first Gentile woman (16.11–15), and the textual unit ends back at her house (16.40). The missionaries come to Philippi through a divine call, as God wants to encounter these women (16.9–10). The Jerusalem Council had settled Gentile inclusion (15.1–35), and Luke now sets out to show how this is worked out for women. Women were historically significant in the Macedonian region, and in Philippi especially, where there were many goddesses. The cult of Diana was particularly notable, with an open-air sanctuary with more than 200 reliefs on the acropolis hill. There was also a temple complex to the male god Sylvanus, and in the third century, one would be added for Isis. Most of the reliefs on the hill were of Diana and other women; 90 picture Diana and 130 are of women.12 In the reliefs, Diana is depicted: ● ● ● ● ●

fifty-one times carrying a bow ready for hunting, seven times holding a dead deer, three times killing a stag, fourteen times with lance and ivy and seventy-two times carrying weapons.13

Other female figures are depicted walking towards an altar, and some are bareheaded; only seven times women are found carrying typical household or domestic items. The women approaching the altar could be humans or goddesses, while Valerie Abrahamsen suggests that they are most likely to be human priestesses who adhere to and worship Diana.14 This positions women as intermediaries between humanity and the gods. Sculpture, reliefs and inscriptions present a window into ancient worldviews. There are eight inscriptions dedicated to Diana on the acropolis hill; seven are in Latin, showing her influence in the higher socioeconomic band, and seven are from men, showing her influence was not simply among women.15 With Diana’s close connection to hunting, and Philippi a largely agricultural city, it is likely that men gave offerings to the goddess to ensure their success in hunting. At the very least, the inscriptions demonstrate that both men and women were tied to the supernatural world for daily existence and this was not especially tied to gender. In Acts and Philippians, the reader meets four Macedonian women: Lydia, the unnamed slave girl, Euodia and Syntyche. To this we add the women who were turning to the gospel in neighbouring regions (Acts 17.4, 12). Bonnie Thurston notes that women in Macedonia had considerably more personal freedom, participating in

12 Valerie A. Abrahamsen, Women and Worship in Philippi: Diana/Artemis and Other Cults in the Early Christian Era (Portland: Astarte Shell, 1995), 25. 13 Ibid., 27. 14 Ibid., 30. 15 Ibid., 32.

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social and economic activities usually carried out by men, while Witherington adds that some women with Roman citizenship had significant roles in the civic office and were priestesses in the Imperial Cult.16 Tarn and Griffith write, If Macedonia produced perhaps the most competent group of men the world had yet seen, the women were in all respects the men’s counterparts; they played a large part in affairs, received envoys and obtained concessions for them from their husbands, built temples, founded cities, engaged mercenaries, commanded armies, held fortresses, and acted on occasion as regents or even co-rulers.17

When the reader meets the economically active Lydia in Acts, this is an historically plausible account of a woman of social standing. It is historically and culturally likely that a church would begin in her house and that Euodia and Syntyche would be named as Paul’s co-workers in the gospel. Women played prominent roles in society, and it appears they did in the church as well.

2. Paul’s focus on partnership in the letter Paul’s letter to the Philippians has a clear rhetorical focus on partnership. His first words, Παῦλος καὶ Τιμόθεος (Phil. 1.1), express this, while his use of ἐγώ fifty-two times in the letter make clear that he is the actual author. Similarly, the mention of ἐπισκόποι καὶ διακόνοι in 1.1 is atypical terminology for Paul, but a phrase that attunes the hearer to his motif of partnership. The well-recognized central plea to be of the ‘same mind’ frames the body of the letter (1.27–30; 4.2), finding its fulfilment in the direct address to the two women (4.2). Paul’s use of the specific language of partnership, κοινωνία and cognates, describes ‘sharing in the gospel’ (1.5), ‘sharing in God’s grace’ (1.7), ‘sharing in the Spirit’ (2.1) and ‘sharing in the sufferings of Christ’ (3.10). Together with a high preponderance for the language of inclusion – ‘we’ and ‘all’ feature prominently – it seems correct to suggest that Paul writes from the perspective of a team member rather than a leader claiming rank and status. Paul’s focus on partnership stems from his concern for his co-workers, who are in some form of disagreement. While we cannot be certain what this relates to, it is possible that there is some level of competitiveness between the women, for Paul talks of envy and rivalry (1.15), selfish ambition (1.17; 2.3), murmuring and arguing (2.14) and looking to one’s own interests (2.21); these must relate in part

16 Bonnie B. Thurston, ‘Philippians’, in Bonnie B.  Thurston and Judith M.  Ryan, Philippians and Philemon, SP 10 (Collegeville:  Liturgical, 2009), 19; Ben Witherington III, Friendship and Finances in Philippi:  The Letter of Paul to the Philippians (Valley Forge: Trinity, 1994), 108. 17 W. W. Tarn and G. T. Griffith, Hellenistic Civilisation, 3rd ed. (London:  Edward Arnold, 1952), 98–99.

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to the women.18 Winter suggests that the women are struggling for primacy in leadership,19 or it may be a dispute about how the gospel is being proclaimed. The gospel is a prominent feature of the letter – Philippians mentions the εὐαγγέλιον nine times (1.5, 7, 12, 16, 27 [twice]; 2.22; 4.3, 15) – and it is possible that method and practices may be the issue. What we can say is that it does not appear to be a matter of orthodoxy. This is not a full-blown schism or referring to moral and sexual issues, as in Corinth, or significant theological correction, as in Galatia; in such instances, Paul deals with the problem sharply and decisively. Here he pleads with the women to come to agreement. Paul desires them to be of one spirit (1.27) and one mind (1.27; 2.2 [twice]; 4.2). His interest is in maturity that conforms to a cruciform pattern of humility and service, even to the point of death. This may account for the fourfold repetition of his own ‘imprisonment’ (1.7, 13, 14, 17), and it is certainly the cruciform pattern in the Christ-hymn that is at the heart of his letter. Paul is clear that suffering and humility are the way of Christ, and so it must also be their way. Christ’s humility and service are what Paul longs for them to be inspired by and conformed to. Christ, and being ‘in Christ’, had been his focus from 1.1–2, where the titles are used three times. There is a rhetorical comparison with Timothy (2.22–24) and Epaphroditus (2.25–30), but Christ is the one Paul holds high above all: the slave Christ, the humbled Christ, the obedient Christ, the suffering Christ and, finally, the exalted Christ.

3. Who are Euodia and Syntyche? Paul describes Euodia and Syntyche as his συνεργοί in the gospel and he names them in the text. As Witherington notes, ‘In Greek and Roman oratory, women were not mentioned unless they were notable or notorious’,20 and so when Paul names them, he draws attention to their significance in the church. They struggle with Paul as co-workers ‘in the gospel’ (4.3), and so we can confidently say that their role was not peripheral or simply to support; there does not appear to be a dishcloth in sight! It is possible they functioned as διάκονοι (1.2), and this is why Paul refers to the role in his opening greeting. Paul describes both men and women as

18 While many scholars affirm the problem of disunity, some see the internal unrest as more central to the occasion for writing than others. Peterlin believes this is the primary reason for Paul to write and that the disagreement stems from disunity over the collection. See Davorin Peterlin, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians in the Light of Disunity in the Church, NovTSup 79 (Leiden:  Brill, 1995); G. Walter Hansen, The Letter to the Philippians, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 25–35. 19 Bruce W. Winter, Seek the Welfare of the City: Christians as Benefactors and Citizens (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 99. 20 Witherington, Philippians, 233.

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διάκονοι: Phoebe (Rom. 16.1), Apollos (1 Cor. 3.5), Tychicus (Eph. 6.21; Col. 4.7), Timothy (1 Tim. 4.6) and himself (1 Cor. 3.5), although the term is also used generically for those who serve (2 Cor. 3.6; 6.4; 11.15, 23). It is also conceivable that they are ἐπισκόποι, although when Paul asks his loyal companion in 4.3 to help the women, this may be because this man fulfils an ‘overseer’ role. He is clearly known and well respected by the community, although his identity is not clear. It cannot be Epaphroditus, as he was there when the letter was being dictated, or Timothy, because he is not yet in Philippi (Phil. 2.19), and it is very unlikely to be a man named Syzygus, as this name was not known in antiquity.21 He may even be Luke, for if we accept the ‘we’ passages, Luke was part of the beginnings of the church (Acts 16.11–40), and he spent considerable time in Philippi, leaving only after four to six years (20.6). This time in Macedonia may account for his special interest in women, who feature prominently in Luke and Acts. Like Lydia, the two women might host a house church, although we should rule them out as patronesses of the church, for while Paul designates Phoebe as patron or benefactor (προστάτις) in Rom. 16.2, he does not do so here. As Reumann notes, if they were house church leaders, division between the two women was a ‘serious matter.’22 Winter rightly notes that this division could spill out onto the streets and discredit the church,23 and so addressing the disunity was critical for the health of the church and its witness. House church leaders were significant as ‘the head of the household, by normal expectations of society, would exercise some authority over the group and would have some legal responsibility for it’.24 There were a number of women aside from Lydia who functioned in this way: Priscilla and Aquila (Rom. 16.4; 1 Cor. 16.19), Nympha (Col. 4.15) and Chloe (1 Cor. 1.11). Paul writes an extensive letter in response to Chloe’s report on the divisions in the church, showing that she plays a clear leadership role (1 Cor. 1.11). We know that Paul had both female and male συνεργοί; Priscilla is one such example (Rom. 16.3). She worked alongside Paul and her husband, Aquila, in Corinth as tentmakers (Acts 18.1–4, 18), they had a house church in Rome (Acts 18.2; Rom. 16.3–4) and they spent time in Ephesus, where they exercised leadership with Apollos (Acts 18.18; 2 Tim. 4.19). They are mentioned six times in the New Testament, which points to their significance in early Christian mission.25 Aside from the Corinthian letter (1 Cor. 16.19), Paul lists Priscilla’s name first (Acts 18.18, 26; Rom. 16.3; 2 Tim. 4.19). This is possibly due to her superior social status,26 while it is more likely that her ecclesial ministry was of more 21 Fee, Philippians, 393. 22 Reumann, Philippians, 626. 23 Winter, Seek the Welfare, 101. 24 Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), 76. 25 Ben Witherington III, Women in the World of the Earliest Churches, SNTSMS 59 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 153. 26 Lynn H. Cohick, Women in the World of the Earliest Christians: Illuminating Ancient Ways of Life (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), 130.

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prominence.27 In Acts 18.26, Priscilla and Aquila both explain (ἐκτίθημι) the way of God more accurately to Apollos, a significant leader in the early church (Acts 18.24; 19.1; 1 Cor. 1.12; 3.4–6, 22; 4.6; 16.12; Tit. 3.13). Luke uses the third-person plural ἐκτίθημι, as both husband and wife exercise this authoritative teaching role. Peter is said to ‘explain’ theological ideas step-by-step to the believers in Jerusalem, who criticize him for eating with uncircumcised men (Acts 11.4), and Paul ‘explains’ the kingdom of God to the leaders in Rome (28.23). Josephus uses this word when he describes giving an account with great exactness (Ant. 1.214), and in 1 Macc. 11.36 it is with respect to matters that were considered and then reported to the king. If we consider Paul’s male co-workers, such as Luke, Epaphroditus, Clement, Titus, Mark and Timothy (Rom. 16.3, 9, 21; 2 Cor. 8.23; Phil. 2.25; 4.3; Col. 4.11; 1 Thess. 3.2; Phlm. 1, 24), we also find them in significant teaching and leadership roles.28 While it is unlikely that women co-workers travelled with Paul unless they were part of a husband-wife team, such as Priscilla and Aquila, we could plausibly expect them to fill roles such house church leaders and teachers. There is additional language Paul uses for gospel workers. In Romans he refers to four women who work hard (κοπιάω): Mary (Rom. 16.6), Tryphaena, Tryphosa and Persis (16.12); the latter three work hard ἐν κυρίῳ. While κοπιάω can refer to manual labour (Mt. 6.28; Lk. 5.5; 12.27; Jn 4.38; 21.6; 1 Cor. 4.12), it is also used for physically tiring gospel work (cf. 1 Tim. 4.10; Col. 1.29). Elders ‘labour’ in preaching and teaching (1 Tim. 5.17), and those who ‘work hard’ have charge over (προΐστημι) the Thessalonian Christians as they instruct and admonish them. In 1 Cor. 16.16, the Corinthian Christians are even urged to be subordinate to (ὑποτάσσω) the ones who are συνεργοῦντι and κοπιῶντι, two words that Witherington suggests convey a single idea.29 Georg Bertram writes of Paul’s co-workers, One is not to see in all this unconditional equality with the apostle. Paul never yielded to anyone the singularity of his position. But he honoured his companions by using this and similar terms, thereby consolidating their authority in the churches.30

27 See Witherington, Women, 153; Paul Trebilco, The Early Christians in Ephesus from Paul to Ignatius, WUNT 1/166 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 527. 28 For example, I  accept Luke as an occasional travelling companion of Paul (Acts 16.10–17; 20.5–15; 21.1–18; 27.1–28), one of the most significant NT writers (Lk. 1.4; Acts 1.1), and as a faithful worker with Paul (Phlm. 24; 2 Tim. 4.11; Col. 4.14). Epaphroditus took the Philippian gift to Paul while he was imprisoned (Phil. 2.25; 4.18). Paul viewed Timothy as a son (Phil. 2.22), and Timothy worked closely with Paul in his gospel ministry (2.19–23; Acts 16.1; 17.4–15; 18.5; 19.22; 20.4; Rom. 16.21; 1 Cor. 4.17; 16.10; 2 Cor. 1.1, 19; Phil. 1.1; Col. 1.1; 1 Thess. 1.1; 3.2, 6; 2 Thess. 1.1; Phlm. 1; 1–2 Timothy). 29 Witherington, Women, 111; cf. Georg Bertram, ‘συνεργός, συνεργέω’, TDNT 7:875. 30 Bertram, TDNT 7:874 (italics added).

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As co-workers, Euodia and Syntyche must be viewed as significant to the leadership and life of the Philippian church, especially if they had a teaching role. To diminish their role in any way overlooks the evidence of women who worked alongside Paul in the earliest churches.

4. Paul’s pastoral wisdom So how did Paul as ‘pastor’ of this church write to address the internal unrest? Paul addressed each woman with repeated use of παρακαλέω (Phil. 4.2), not taking sides or showing favouritism or considering one more prominent than the other either. He chose his language carefully. Paul did not use the strong language of Galatians (Gal. 1.1, 6–12; 2.11, 13; 3.1; 4.15–16; 5.12; 6.11) or call on his apostolic authority, as he did in Corinth (1 Cor. 1–4, 9; 2 Cor. 10.1–11.6). He did not lay down the law, but wrote a pastoral letter using conciliatory language. Paul did talk a great deal about Christ, particularly his humility and sacrifice (Phil. 2.5–11), yet he did not talk about dense theological ideas such as grace, faith and belief or use much rhetorical γάρ language. Philippians does not have the sustained argument of Romans or the strong theological passages of Galatians31; his message is one of friendly persuasion and inspiration. Paul uses emotive and family language; he describes the Philippians as people he loves (2.12; 4.1). He calls them ‘beloved’ strategically in 2.12 and 4.1 (twice). In 4.1, this language forms an inclusio around intimate and personal language of loving and longing, where the ἀδελφοί are Paul’s joy and crown. This repetition is somewhat awkward linguistically, but effective relationally, which is Paul’s concern. There is a high preponderance of ἀδελφοί language in the letter; Paul uses it seven times (1.12, 14; 2.25; 3.1, 13, 17; 4.1, 8, 21). He keeps reminding the church that they are brothers and sisters. We see his familial concern when he says that he cares for their safety (3.1) and desires to cheer them up (2.19). Paul shares news about his own affairs (1.12, 27; 2.19, 20, 23), showing his interconnectedness with the church in Philippi even if he cannot be physically present. Paul’s language is deliberately chosen to create a positive framework for his plea for unity. Paul directly addresses the disunity. The tone of this letter is so conciliatory that some have classified it as a Graeco-Roman friendship letter,32 even though it lacks some of the features expected in this genre.33 The content of the letter suggests that Paul writes as a ‘friend’, holding the women to account for their disagreement. While much of the Western world shies away from direct conflict, the Graeco-Roman world viewed a true friend as ‘the greatest of all things’ (Cicero, De Amicitia 27). This understanding of friendship is behind Paul’s plea. Seneca writes

31 If we consider the disputed letters, we could add Colossians and Ephesians. 32 Fee, Philippians, 2; Hansen, Philippians, 6. 33 Witherington, Philippians, 18.

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of the blessings where friends are ‘equals’ and have a ‘common love of goodness’.34 He writes, True friends are the whole world to one another, and he that is a friend to himself is also a friend to mankind. Even in my studies, the greatest delight I take in what I learn, is the teaching of it to others: for there is no relish, methinks, in the possessing of anything without a partner.

He goes on, there must be no reserves in friendship . . . When I am with my friend . . . [I am] as much at liberty to speak anything as to think it; and as our hearts are one, so must be our interests and convenience; for friendship lays all things in common, and nothing can be good to the one that is ill to the other . . . But my end of friendship is to have one dearer to me than myself, and for the saving of whose life I would cheerfully lay down my own.35

This typifies how Paul speaks with Euodia and Syntyche; in plainly spoken terms, he holds the women to account for their behaviour and so acts as their true friend. The humbled and self-effacing Christ is the pre-eminent example Paul presents to the women, the one who, though in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking on the form of a slave (2.6–7). This is the one Paul holds high as the model for service, but in addressing the women, he writes as a friend who ‘has no reserves in friendship’ and has the courage to give advice with candour. Paul uses language and expressions of partnership. In the letter there are fifteen uses of συν language, which is language of inclusion.36 Christians are co-workers (συνεργός, 2.25; 4.3), fellow soldiers (συστρατιώτης, 2.25), companions (σύζυγος, 4.3), helpers (συλλαμβάνω, 4.3) and fellow-strugglers (συναθλέω, 4.3). Paul goes out of his way to use language of togetherness. The Philippians are also partners in the gospel (1.5) and ones who share in God’s grace (1.7). If we look at Paul’s opening prayer, he ‘remembers you’ (1.3), prays for ‘all of you’ (1.4) and says it is right that he thinks this way about ‘all of you because you hold me in your heart’ (1.7). Paul shows reciprocity in his relationship with the Philippians; his words are not one-sided or take a top-down approach. Paul ‘longs for all of you’ (1.8), and he prays for overflowing love, knowledge and insight (1.9). In this he assumes that these graces are already present, but his prayer is for further blessing. In 1.27 he talks of ‘striving side-by-side’, showing that the goal is partnership and not comparison or competitiveness. The goal is to be of the ‘same mind’ (4.2, 5) and ‘same

34 Seneca, On Friendship 18. 35 Similar views are found in the writings of Cicero, De Amicitia. 36 A. Boyd Luter, ‘Partnership in the Gospel:  The Role of Women in the Church at Philippi’, JETS 39 (1996), 415.

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love’ (2.2), where each one looks not to his or her own interests, but the interests of others (2.4). Paul gives some practical advice to help the women. He asks them to think about truth, honour, justice, purity, excellence and praise (4.8), features of GraecoRoman lists of virtues.37 To this he adds thinking about what is pleasing and commendable. It is acknowledged in the psychological world that what we think about affects who we become. When we meditate (and this can be on anything in any area of life), there is a chemical change in the nature of the brain. We are quite literally being changed as we participate in these activities, for the brain is a developing organ that integrates ‘mental processes (such as memory and emotions) with both neurobiology (such as neural activity in specific circuits) and interpersonal relationships (such as patterns of communication)’.38 Empirical studies have shown that mindfulness-based practices, such as meditation, have successfully help treat anxiety, depression and psychological distress.39 We do not know the problems the women were facing, and we do not suggest that Paul was aware of the science of the brain, but here in the midst of a dispute, as he calls for the women, and more widely the Philippian church, to lift their minds to matters that reflect God’s character and values, he gives them a practical and transformative task. Paul also wisely projects a long-term eschatological picture for the church, because without a vision, people perish (Prov. 29.18); long-term hope is essential to life, especially when things are difficult. It is easy to become so absorbed with the pressures of the current time that we overlook future hope. Faith has a teleological hope, whereby suffering gives way to glory, just as it did for Jesus (Phil. 2.6–11), and this must be the Christian’s mindset. Paul casts this wider vision for ministry throughout this letter, where the one who began good work among you will bring it to completion on the day of Jesus Christ (1.6). In 1.10, he reiterates this picture with the mention of the day of Christ, where his desire is that the Philippian believers are pure and blameless and produce a harvest of righteousness; and in 2.16, he calls them to hold fast to the word of life. In ch. 3, Paul calls for them to imitate him (3.17) as he presses on for the goal, the prize of heaven (3.14). This eschatological framework is pictured finally in 4.1, where the Philippians are his ‘crown’, and in 4.3, he recalls that Euodia and Syntyche’s names are written in the ‘book of life’, a reminder that life is more than the set of problems and challenges of the day, for it has ultimate hope. Paul also draws on citizenship language from the Philippian culture, reminding the Philippians that their true allegiance and ‘home’ is really not Philippi, but

37 See Epictetus, Discourses, and Seneca’s Moral Essays. 38 Daniel J. Siegel, The Developing Mind: How Relationships and the Brain Interact to Shape Who We Are, 2nd ed. (New York: Guilford, 2012), 2. 39 See Michael P. Twohig, Michelle R. Woidneck and Jesse M. Crosby, ‘Newer Generations of CBT for Anxiety Disorders’, in CBT for Anxiety Disorders:  A  Practitioner Book, ed. Gregoris Simos and Stefan G. Hofmann (Chichester:  Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), 237–39.

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heaven. This encourages them to turn their eyes forward and upward rather than focusing on one another. The apostle is careful with the tone of his letter. The letter is full of the language of joy. He uses ‘joy’ cognates sixteen times (χαίρω, 1.18 [twice]; 2.17, 18, 28; 3.1; 4.4, 10; συγχαίρω, 2.17, 18; χαρά, 1.4, 25; 2.2, 29; 4.1). This gives the letter a light and positive tone, which is helpful in a conflict situation. Finally, Paul sent people to help. He sends to the church Timothy, who is genuinely concerned for their welfare (2.19). He is like a son to Paul, and in sending him, Paul is sending something of himself. Paul also plans to send Epaphroditus back to the church, for he has been longing for them (2.25–28). Finally, he plans to go himself when the Lord allows (2.24), presumably after he is out of chains. In this letter, the picture is of a pastor who is going to great lengths, at great cost, to personally help a church that is facing challenges. Henri Nouwen talks of the ministry of presence; that is, being with people is a significant incarnational act in ministry.40 We cannot love just from a distance, we cannot love just by good theology and we cannot love by wisdom alone. Turning up and being physically present matters. He writes, More and more, the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, enter their homes, sit on their doorsteps, play ball, throw water, and be known as someone who wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have the time to practice this simple ministry of presence. Still, it is not as simple as it seems. My own desire to be useful, to do something significant, or to be part of some impressive project is so strong that soon my time is taken up by meetings, conferences, study groups, and workshops that prevent me from walking the streets. It is difficult not to have plans, not to organize people around an urgent cause, and not to feel that you are working directly for social progress. But I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn’t be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and tell your own, and to let them know with words, handshakes, and hugs that you do not simply like them, but truly love them.41

Neil Holm writes about the ministry of presence in chaplaincy, showing how mutuality and reciprocity are transformative.42 He notes the interconnectedness of our relationships with God and others, and how, as we grow in our personal relationships by being with one another (listening, sharing), we grow in our relationship with God. Paul’s approach, which comes not only alongside the women, but also with an attitude of partnership and presence, is wise leadership. When

40 Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love: A Journey Through Anguish to Freedom (New York: Doubleday, 1996). 41 Ibid., 68. 42 Neil Holm, ‘Toward a Theology of the Ministry of Presence in Chaplaincy’, Journal of Christian Education 52 (2009), 7–22.

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there is partnership and respect, we exert influence that empowers and persuades others to change and grow. Humility grows leaders.43 For Paul, wisdom is the humble Christ crucified. It is exemplified in the giving away of power for the sake of the other, and it is a journey we make as a unified body, where we bend our knee at the name of Jesus and confess him as Lord.

43 Mark Strom, Lead With Wisdom: How Wisdom Transforms Good Leaders into Great Leaders (Milton: Wiley, 2014), 102.

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Chapter 9 P AU L A S P A ST O R I N C O L O S SIA N S ? Andrew S. Malone

The topic at hand comes freighted with two contentious questions: What is the relationship of the apostle Paul to the letter written to the church at Colossae? And is it appropriate to apply to Paul the term ‘pastor’ in any way, given the apparent distance between the author and that church? As we consider each question in turn, the first need not detain us long. The letter has nothing to contribute to this volume if it proves to be completely un-Pauline in both authorship and content. Whether or not directly from Paul’s hand, a healthy number of scholars maintain some degree of connection with the apostle’s thought and practice. It is the second question that is the more relevant and provides the grist for our mill. Some scholars are overtly hostile to the possibility of pastoral insights in this letter. Others show no hesitance in applying the language of ‘pastor’ here. Many are silent on the matter. It seems the jury is still out on the issue. As we untangle the various factors, it seems that there are indeed pastoral insights to be gained from the letter. While not all insights can be applied directly at the local congregational level, the majority that can be gleaned from Colossians remain instructive for leaders of God’s people.

1. Paul and Colossians The authorship of the epistle is hotly contested, with many judging it to originate from someone other than Paul. Eduard Lohse represents such a view when he concludes that ‘Paul cannot be considered to be the direct or indirect author of Col[ossians]’.1

1 Eduard Lohse, Colossians and Philemon, Hermeneia, trans. William R. Poehlmann and Robert J. Karris (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971), 181; cf. 180–83; Margaret Y. MacDonald, Colossians and Ephesians, SP 17 (Collegeville:  Liturgical Press, 2000), 6–9, 184–88: ‘without the benefit of the apostle’s involvement’ (185); Andrew T. Lincoln, ‘The Letter to the Colossians’, in The New Interpreter’s Bible, ed. Leander E. Keck, vol. 11 (Nashville: Abingdon,

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Many other scholars, however, allow a degree of Pauline association with the letter and its contents. A  Pauline flavour is especially likely in its portrayal of church leaders. Scholars such as Randolph Richards draw a helpful distinction between epistolary content that is ‘un-Pauline’ and that which is ‘non-Pauline’. This alerts us to various degrees of authorship, from personal scribing to direct dictation through collaborative drafting to remote commissioning.2 Each point of this spectrum has been proposed for Colossians. Each point recognizes a link with Paul himself and acknowledges the probability of an accurate portrait of Paul as a pastor. A staunch and vocal group of conservatives insists that there are no convincing grounds to overturn the letter’s own claims to originate directly from Paul (Col. 1.1, 23; 4.18). The superscription is identical to Paul’s elsewhere (2 Cor. 1.1; also Eph. 1.1) and comparable with others (e.g. 1 Cor. 1.1; Gal. 1.1); the autograph is identical to Paul’s (1 Cor. 16.21; also 2 Thess. 3.17) with similar autographs also extant (Gal. 6.11; Phlm. 19). Of course, conspiracy theorists suggest that the similarities with Paul’s undisputed letters and the threefold use of his name in Colossians are a smokescreen for a pseudepigrapher. But the traditionalists take the presence of Paul’s name as definitive, with any variations in language and theology throughout the letter explicable in various ways, including Paul’s use of a supervised amanuensis.3 Others extend the role of an amanuensis to allow greater freedom of expression and perhaps even a substantial role in composition. This mediating stance allows that Paul commissioned or superintended the work of another author whom we can confidently distinguish from Paul; we find Pauline ideas, even as they are expressed in non-Pauline language and accompanied by non-Pauline emphases.

2000), 577–83; Charles H. Talbert, Ephesians and Colossians, Paideia (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 7–11; Jerry L. Sumney, Colossians, NTL (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox, 2008), 1–9; more cautiously, Robert McL. Wilson, Colossians and Philemon, ICC (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 9–20. 2 E. Randolph Richards, Paul and First-Century Letter Writing: Secretaries, Composition and Collection (Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 2004), respectively 113 and 64–80, developed from his The Secretary in the Letters of Paul, WUNT 2/42 (Tübingen:  Mohr [Siebeck], 1991). 3 For example, F. F. Bruce, The Epistles to the Colossians, to Philemon, and to the Ephesians, NICNT (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 1984), 28–33; Douglas J. Moo, The Letters to the Colossians and to Philemon, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 28–41; Michael F. Bird, Colossians and Philemon, NCCS (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2009), 4–9; Luke Timothy Johnson, The Writings of the New Testament, 3rd ed. (London:  SCM, 2010), 240–42, 347– 49; David W. Pao, Colossians and Philemon, ZECNT 12 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012), 20–23; Nijay K. Gupta, Colossians, SHBC (Macon: Smyth & Helwys, 2013), 3–10. A recent survey not only assesses the evidence ‘to tip the scales in favor of authenticity’ but gauges a ‘shift toward affirming authenticity’; Maria A. Pascuzzi, ‘Reconsidering the Authorship of Colossians’, BBR 23 (2013): 223–46 (quotes from her last and first pages).

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Such a view perceives the real author as more than a scribe: as a fairly autonomous composer who has some connection with Paul’s thinking and who earns his affirmation (e.g. the autograph of Col. 4.18). Such mediating scholars thus allow a degree of Pauline association with the epistle. That degree can be quite significant.4 Accepting Paul’s authoring or authorization clearly allows us to consider how this particular letter portrays the apostle’s ministry. Many pseudepigraphal theories (cf. footnote 1 above) also permit that the representation of the named author accurately reflects something of Paul and his ministry. If Timothy writes because Paul is somehow incapacitated, if a Pauline school writes in his honour soon after his death, even if a more artificial attempt is made to authenticate the later ministries of Tychicus and Epaphras, we can expect to see a reasonable (if not substantial) portrait of the historical apostle. Luke Timothy Johnson is too hasty to insist that a pseudepigraphal epistle attributed to Paul ‘cannot be taken into account when assessing his ministry or his thought’.5 Unless we demand an entirely fictitious provenance and purpose – and perhaps even then – we can profitably pursue the question of how Paul is presented.6 My own sympathies lean towards the more conservative interpreters, and I  gauge that Colossians presents us substantially (if not directly) with a reliable facsimile of Paul. That said, most of what follows should be acceptable also to those who are more sceptical of Pauline authorship. Again, our present study proves irrelevant only if we can marshal good reasons against Colossians bearing any resemblance to the historical figures and settings it purports to portray. Aside from authorship, Colossians is complicated by two further factors. First, it does not include as much authorial self-reference as do other epistles. Autobiographical insights are restrained to the recognized blocks of 1.24–2.5 (introduced by 1.23) and 4.7–8, though these blocks prove to be invaluable. Second, much of this self-disclosure occurs in the first-person plural rather than the singular. We should expect to learn as much about the apostolic team and its dynamics as we do about the apostle’s individual practices.7 Glimpses of these factors, along with a sense of the complexities involved, are afforded by two examples

4 For example, James D. G. Dunn, The Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon, NIGTC (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 1996), 35–39; Eduard Schweizer, The Letter to the Colossians, trans. Andrew Chester (London: SPCK, 1982), 15–24; to a lesser extent, Markus Barth and Helmut Blanke, Colossians, AB 34B, trans. Astrid B. Beck (New York:  Doubleday, 1994), 114–26. The degree of latitude afforded to an amanuensis is a topic that remains debated. Note further the helpful warning that allowing the use of amanuenses in other epistles attributed to Paul (e.g. Rom. 16.23) makes accurate comparisons between letters even more difficult; for example, Lincoln, ‘Colossians’, 577; Pao, Colossians and Philemon, 20–21. 5 Johnson, Writings of the New Testament, 241. 6 For a fictitious ‘Paul’  – and even fabricated recipients  – see especially Lincoln, ‘Colossians’, 577–83. 7 For serious consideration of multiple authors, as suggested by 1.1, see Richards, Paul and First-Century Letter Writing, 33–36, 103–6; Bruce, Epistles, 30, 40–41.

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where singular and plural language are mixed. In 1.28–29, Paul outlines the activities and goal towards which ‘we’ work, before he concurs that he himself labours to the same end, if not also in the same way. At the end of his paraenesis, Paul adjures the Colossians to extend their prayers to include ‘us’ and our speaking of the mystery of Christ (4.3); yet it is for this mystery that ‘I have been bound’, and he then seeks further prayer for his own proclamation and speaking (4.3–4). It is not impossible to untangle the mixed terms, but again, their juxtaposition gives us insight into group practices as well as Paul’s. We turn to consider those practices.

2. Pastoring in Colossians What we can glean of the pastoral habits of Paul (and his associates) depends substantially on our definitions and expectations. The place of pastoring in Colossians is viewed variously by scholars, though the overall impression is often that the epistle has little to contribute. One standard textbook on pastoring draws heavily on Colossians when discussing Paul; the corresponding study in a major dictionary on Paul dismisses the letter as void of pastoral tone and content.8 Significant commentators happily mention Paul’s ‘pastoral’ behaviour; others apply ‘pastoring’ only to the immediate shepherds of the local congregations.9 More popular commentaries written to elucidate the letter for practising pastors eschew such language for the apostle.10 The small number of scholarly studies of Paul as a pastor are all but silent on Colossians.11

8 Respectively, Derek J. Tidball, Skilful Shepherds: Explorations in Pastoral Theology (Leicester: Apollos, 1986, 1997), 100–11; Paul Beasley-Murray, ‘Pastor, Paul as’, in DPL 655. 9 Moo, Colossians and Philemon, 347, 352, reserves ‘pastoring’ language for Epaphras and Archippus. For those favouring ‘pastoral’, see n.21 below. 10 Perhaps surprisingly, David E. Garland, Colossians, Philemon, NIVAC (Grand Rapids:  Zondervan, 1998); N. T. Wright, The Epistles of Paul to the Colossians and to Philemon, TNTC 12 (Leicester:  InterVarsity Press, 1986). Garland readily talks about contemporary pastors but never applies the term to Paul. Richard Melick associates such language with Paul only indirectly; Richard R. Melick Jr, Philippians, Colossians, Philemon, NAC 32 (Nashville: Broadman, 1991), 242 n.154, 251, 304–5. 11 James W. Thompson, ‘Paul as Missionary Pastor’, in Paul as Missionary, ed. Trevor J. Burke and Brian S. Rosner, LNTS 420 (London:  T&T Clark, 2011), 25–36, overtly ignores Colossians (e.g. omitting Col. 4.11 from the occurrences of συνεργός at 34). We discover elsewhere Thompson’s disinterest in engaging the disputed epistles; for example, Thompson, Pastoral Ministry According to Paul (Grand Rapids:  Baker Academic, 2006), 28. Harder to evaluate is Stephen C. Barton, ‘Paul as Missionary and Pastor’, in The Cambridge Companion to St Paul, ed. James D. G. Dunn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 34–48. Barton expressly includes Col. 4.15 as an example of one of the households comprising ‘the churches Paul founds and nurtures’ (44), yet he otherwise seems to actively omit engagement with this epistle (e.g. 46).

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Diverse responses are understandable. Within the Pauline corpus, the relationship between the apostle and the church at Colossae is rather unique. There is general consensus that it was Epaphras who had been responsible for the planting of churches in the Lycus Valley and that he had brought the current state of affairs to Paul’s attention (1.7–8); the Colossians are counted among those ‘who have not seen me face to face’ (2.2). It is less clear whether Epaphras had been operating under Paul’s instructions; we do not know at what point he earned the title ‘our beloved fellow slave’ (1.7), and we hear more about his relationship to Christ (1.7; 4.12) than his connection with Paul. Any possibility of Epaphras having been commissioned by Paul and his team turns on two possessives in 1.7. The first, in ‘our beloved fellow slave’, confirms only their present relationship. The second is textually uncertain: ‘on your [our?] behalf ’. Even if the first-person ‘our’ is the correct reading, as preferred by many translators and commentators, the import of the preposition (ὑπέρ) and the present-tense description of Epaphras again furnish little clarity about any past commission. Paul may traditionally be considered a grandfather or uncle to the Colossian believers, but this is difficult to establish from the text. Indeed, Paul writes far more as a brother or a cousin. This is not to join BeasleyMurray (above and below) in judging the letter as void of pastoral relevance. Neither does it misread Paul as writing as an equal of the believers at Colossae; he retains his title of apostle (1.1) and a tone of seniority. But it does acknowledge that Paul himself recognizes and accommodates his geographical and relational distance from the Colossians. Moreover, he does so in a way that is distinct from the letter he writes to the Romans, who are similarly geographically and relationally remote from the apostle. Of course, ‘Paul does not describe himself as a “missionary” or “pastor” ’, and we should engage his ‘wide array of rich metaphors, each of which captures something of how he saw his work’.12 Stephen Barton outlines prominent examples concerning diplomacy, agriculture, architecture, relationships and priesthood. Although we can find some minor similarities to Barton’s categories, none of them is prominent in Colossians. We turn to consider what explicit or implicit evidence can be elicited from the letter and how this evidence may intersect with various definitions of ‘pastor’. a. External expectations It is understandable that readers may presuppose what a pastor is and what a pastor does. If we bring to Colossians our own presuppositions, we may find it abounding with our favourite behaviours or bereft of our core criteria. Two broad examples demonstrate the difficulties inherent in measuring a topic such as ‘Paul as pastor’.

12 Barton, ‘Paul as Missionary and Pastor’, 35.

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Expectations met: The centrality of teaching Some traditions would demand that a primary role for a pastor is word-based. As he farewells the Ephesian elders, Paul uses a range of verbs for preaching and teaching (Acts 20.18–31). (We will discover shortly that the itinerant nature of Paul’s proclamation is sometimes counted against his performance as a pastor. So it is significant that these verbs recount his longest fixed ministry recorded in Acts.) As we will note below, Colossians substantially comprises direct and indirect teaching. If we presume that teaching is an essential element of pastoring, then Paul scores well, even with this remote congregation.13 Indeed, we could simply declare all of Paul’s actions as ‘pastoral’, protecting him from allegations to the contrary. James Dunn is regularly cited to this end: ‘Paul never spoke other than as a pastor.’14 Dunn has just defined ‘speaking’ to include written communication and counted Colossians among Paul’s letters. Thus, by convenient definition, Paul’s epistle to the Colossians models him as a pastor at work.15 Failed expectations: The (local) church family Paul’s enthusiasm for familial terminology is widely recognized. The salient article in the relevant dictionary confirms that ‘Paul’s preferred imagery for the pastoral task is found in the parent-child relationship . . . It is this parental imagery that underlies his expressions of love and concern for the churches which are in his care . . . Love – as of a parent for a child – was the bedrock of Paul’s pastoral care.’16 Where the parent-child relationship is envisaged as the controlling metaphor, Colossians is deemed expressly irrelevant to our investigation of Paul as pastor. ‘When writing to Rome and to Colossae, however, churches he had not founded, he carefully avoided the parental – and thus the pastoral – tone.’17 Unsurprisingly, a similar study of the link between parental language and pastoral imagery is equally silent concerning Colossians.18 13 Some have judged Paul’s letters to offer a theological foundation for distance education. See the sources compiled in Kara Martin, ‘Theology for the iGeneration’, in Learning and Teaching Theology, ed. Les Ball and James R. Harrison (Northcote: Morning Star, 2014), 151–52. 14 James D.  G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 1998), 626. 15 Although opaque about the authorship of Colossians, Barton similarly describes all of Paul’s letters as exhibiting ‘entirely “pastoral” concern’; Barton, ‘Paul as Missionary and Pastor’, 46. 16 Beasley-Murray, ‘Pastor, Paul as’, 654–55; cf. Robert J. Banks, ‘Church Order and Government’, in DPL 132–33, 134–35. 17 Beasley-Murray, ‘Pastor, Paul as’, 655. 18 Jeffrey A. D. Weima, ‘Infants, Nursing Mother, and Father: Paul’s Portrayal of a Pastor’, CTJ 37 (2002), 209–29. Weima comfortably counts Colossians among Paul’s letters (227).

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Brian Rosner’s chapter in the present volume suggests that we should extend Paul’s familial vocabulary to include fraternal as well as parental and filial terms. We do find some glimpses of ‘brother (and sister)’ language in Colossians, but while ἀδελφός is used a little more generously than in Ephesians and Philemon, such language remains frugal in comparison with its use (along with ἀδελφή) in letters to every other congregation that Paul addresses. The apostle’s rationing of sibling language further marks Colossians as distinct from Romans. Apart from warmly commending three coworkers (Col. 1.1; 4.7, 9) he employs the term but twice and, even then, fairly clinically as a synonym for ‘believers’; Paul sends greetings to ‘the brothers and sisters at Laodicea’ (4.15), leaving only a single application to the Colossian Christians (1.2). Rosner’s lead contributes little to our particular investigation, and it may tacitly endorse reluctance to see Paul’s Colossian interactions as reflecting a pastoral relationship. It would seem also that some interpreters presume a geographical boundary on the ministry of a pastor. We have seen (in n.9 above) that Douglas Moo is much faster to identify local Colossian workers as ‘pastors’ than he is to attribute the title to Paul. So, too, with the opening paragraph of Jonathan Lo’s survey; despite having favourably compared Paul against Thomas Oden’s criteria of proclamation, administration of sacraments and nurture towards fullness, Lo complains (without further explication) that Paul ‘does not perform these duties within a fixed location . . . Paul resembles a traveling evangelist, a missionary, or even a church planter – not a pastor’.19 Such a concern is not uncommon; ‘the Paul of the popular imagination is a missionary rather than a pastor’.20 b. Inductive insights Of course we can mix and match our preferred criteria, finding Paul within or without the boundaries we draw. Just as one’s view of authorship may include or exclude Colossians from consideration, so our presuppositions will colour the extent to which we find Paul behaving in a ‘pastoral’ fashion. Where a pastor is understood to be the local spiritual shepherd or a leader who employs parentchild language, the apostle clearly does not qualify in this context. Instead of setting our criteria – or, as is commonly done, simply assuming them – and then evaluating Paul against them, the inverse process proves insightful. Let us consider how Colossians describes Paul and his colleagues. We can then determine how these actions correlate with our current definition of ‘pastor’. We may even allow these traits to contribute to the definition. In doing so, we may appreciate that, while some may be reluctant, many scholars show no

19 Jonathan W. Lo, ‘Pastoral Theology in the Letters of Paul: The Basis for Paul’s Pastoral Responsibility’, Hill Road 17 (2014), 25–50, citing Thomas C. Oden, Pastoral Theology (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1983), 50. 20 Thompson, ‘Paul as Missionary Pastor’, 25.

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hesitation in applying the term ‘pastoral’ to Paul’s interactions with the Colossian church.21 Teaching A teaching role is readily recognized in the activities of the epistle’s authors. Howard Marshall identifies the function of the letter to be polemical teaching, aimed at correcting the aberrant ideas starting to circulate in the Lycus region.22 We certainly find in Colossians a ministry description that highlights teaching and proclamation. The autobiographical summary in 1.24–2.5 has Paul assigned by God ‘to complete the word of God’: to propagate God’s freshly disclosed secret of Christ (cf. 4.3–4). Christ is the subject whom the apostolic team ‘proclaim’, with this act of proclamation further described as ‘warning/correcting’ and ‘teaching’ (1.28). Commentators certainly find such terms, repeated elsewhere in the New Testament, to be paradigmatic for Christian ministry. ‘The verb “to proclaim” (καταγγέλλειν) . . . practically became a technical term for missionary preaching.’23 Similarly, ‘The verb [διδάσκω] and its corresponding nouns, “teacher” and “teaching,” are often used in the New Testament to denote this authoritative communication of gospel truth.’24 In turn, such ministry is readily embraced as the work of a pastor.25 Indeed, the participles used here to describe the apostolic proclamation are used elsewhere of Paul. In a candid pastoral insight in an undisputed letter, Paul attests his fatherly care for his Corinthian children, highlighting his present warning (νουθετέω) and habitual, widespread teaching (διδάσκω) (1 Cor. 4.14–17). And among the verbs in his farewell speech to the Ephesian elders, Paul claims that his preaching and teaching (διδάσκω), his testifying and proclaiming and warning (νουθετέω), are widely known (esp. Acts 20.20, 31). Few would doubt that these terms, when used there, apply to Paul and his pastoral ministry.

21 For example, C. F. D. Moule, The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Colossians and to Philemon, CGTC (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1957), 136; Willi Marxsen, Introduction to the New Testament, trans. Geoffrey Buswell (Oxford: Blackwell, 1968), 180; Lincoln, ‘Colossians’, 613; David A. deSilva, An Introduction to the New Testament (Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 2004), 700–1; Murray J. Harris, Colossians & Philemon, rev. ed., EGGNT (Nashville:  B&H Academic, 2010), 66. It would be interesting to explore whether disputing Pauline authorship impedes or encourages the use of ‘pastoral’ language for the letter. 22 I. Howard Marshall, New Testament Theology (Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 2004), 367. 23 Lohse, Colossians and Philemon, 76–77. The same is found in many others, often drawing on BDAG or its antecedents. 24 Moo, Colossians and Philemon, 160–61. 25 For example, Eckhard J. Schnabel, Paul the Missionary:  Realities, Strategies and Methods (Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 2008), 123, 144, allowing also other vocational titles.

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As Marshall intimates, Colossians itself is full of substantial teaching content. Christian readers readily mine rich seams of Christology (e.g. Col. 1.15–20; 2.9– 11), soteriology (1.12–14, 20–23; 2.9–15) and Christian living (summarized in 2.6–8 and expounded throughout 2.16–4.6). Readers familiar with hearing teaching from Colossians must not overlook the surfeit of teaching in Colossians. The epistle, of course, also inculcates positive examples of Christian leadership, not least the ministry of Epaphras, who is readily accepted by all interpreters as a pastor. The letter may well authenticate Epaphras’s ministry by aligning it with Paul’s. Epaphras and even others are thus probably included in the first-person plural references (1.28; 4.3).26 Regardless of the confidence we have in inferring Paul’s own pastoral practices from his somewhat indirect or indistinct comments about himself, we catch striking glimpses of what he commends in others (esp. 4.7–13). Even those who consider Colossians to have been penned after Paul’s death to authenticate Epaphras’s ministry intimate that we find here a reflection of Paul’s own model.27 It might even be argued that a pseudepigraphal letter would work harder at presenting an adequate portrait of the apostle. Serving For Epaphras and the rest of the apostolic team, Paul praises their service and labour. Such terms abound in the biographical and autobiographical sections of the letter. We have already observed that, while the past relationship between Epaphras and Paul is not as clear as often assumed, the present subservience of Epaphras to Christ is undeniable. The local Colossian pastor is lauded as ‘a servant/minister of Christ’ (1.7) and ‘a slave of Christ’ (4.12). Likewise, Paul’s messenger Tychicus is ‘a faithful servant/minister and fellow slave in the Lord’ (4.7). This contributes to our understanding of Paul’s own ministry, because Paul is assigning appellatives that he uses for himself (δοῦλος, διάκονος) even within this letter (1.23, 25).28 And he prefixes several terms with συν, inviting even closer identification in shared gospel service (σύνδουλος, 1.7; 4.7; συνεργοί, 4.11).29 Even if we should determine that Paul did not write Colossians, or if we should be reluctant to see him as pastoring the Colossians in any direct sense, the author is taking pains to align these local labourers with recognizably Pauline ministry categories. If so, even though we may not learn as much about Paul’s pastoral ministry to the Colossians, we can reinforce our views of Paul as pastor through Colossians. In a similar vein, Paul’s singular autobiographical insights into his striving (ἀγων-, 1.29–2.1) are repeated in his praise for Epaphras (4.12). And both Paul’s apostolic team and Epaphras are concerned with Christian maturity and

26 Moo, Colossians and Philemon, 159 n.41: ‘So most commentators.’ 27 For example, Marxsen, Introduction, 177–86; MacDonald, Colossians and Ephesians, 184–88. 28 For example, Colin G. Kruse, ‘Servant, Service’, in DPL 869–71. 29 Pao, Colossians and Philemon, 57.

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fullness/completion (τέλειος, 1.28; 4.12; πληρο-, 1.9; 2.2, 10; 4.12, cf. 1.24–25; 4.17). Again, at the very least we can have confidence that what we read in Colossians about Paul’s coworkers reflects a silhouette of Paul’s own ministry – and that silhouette takes the outline of a pastor. In cataloguing the descriptions of Epaphras, Robert Wilson acknowledges both the ‘parallel with Paul’ and the fact that Epaphras is presented as ‘the founder and protector of the community’ at Colossae, who ‘had taken an active part in the life and work of all three [Lycus] communities’.30 Intercession Specific examples of such service can be found throughout the epistle, though it can be difficult to distinguish whether these are the purview of church leaders only. Certainly one more link between the distant apostles and the local church pastor is the activity of prayer. Paul and Timothy open the letter with reports of their praying and thanking God (προσεύχεσθαι, εὐχαριστέω, 1.3, 9). The same behaviour is commended of Epaphras (4.12).31 The notion of intercession by prayer is further displayed in an important Greek preposition. We read repeatedly that the church’s leaders, both near and distant, undertake their service ‘on behalf of ’ the congregation. The apostolic team prays ὑπέρ the Colossians (1.9), as does Epaphras (4.12). Paul’s singular labours are conducted ὑπέρ the believers (1.24; 2.1), including those at Laodicea and elsewhere; Paul later commends Epaphras for his extensive toil ὑπέρ those same inhabitants of the Lycus Valley (4.13). The preposition both ties together the ministries of Paul and Epaphras and hints further at the beneficent nature of ministry. A glance at uses of the preposition in other letters confirms similar use in other Pauline settings, most prominently in 2 Corinthians.32 It is useful to note that some elements of Paul’s work are expected of all Christian believers. He certainly enjoins the Colossians to general and specific prayers and thankfulness (4.2–3; cf. 2.7; 3.15–17); in other letters, such prayers are often on behalf of (ὑπέρ) himself or others. Indeed, just as he describes his team’s mission being effected by ‘warning/correcting’ every individual and ‘teaching with all

30 Wilson, Colossians and Philemon, 302–3. The parallels between Epaphras and Paul lead Wilson to admit that 4.12 ‘presents a certain difficulty for the view that it [the letter] was written by a later disciple’. 31 The participle that opens 1.12 (εὐχαριστοῦντες) may resume describing the apostles rather than the letter’s recipients; cf. Harris, Colossians & Philemon, 30 (though he deems this ‘unlikely’). Though this view enjoys little support, note the punctuation and paragraphing of NA28 and its predecessors. 32 In Col. 1.25, the preposition εἰς (almost certainly taken with the preceding clause) intones the same sense of advantage for the congregation (cf. 1.4); for example, NASB; Constantine R. Campbell, Colossians and Philemon: A Handbook on the Greek Text, BHGNT (Waco:  Baylor University Press, 2013), 23; MacDonald, Colossians and Ephesians, 80, who links the phrase with 1.24, where ὑπέρ occurs twice.

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wisdom’ (1.28), so he commands these actions of the believers themselves (3.16).33 This rounds out Paul’s preceding calls to mutual edification and ‘the bond that produces maturity’ (3.12–14).34 At the least, we find further indicators that the work of the local pastor, Epaphras, is recounted in terms that the apostles use of themselves. There are thus good grounds to accept Paul’s ministry as ‘pastoral’ even as we continue to clarify what those actions might be. At the same time, we must be alert to the possibility that all believers are summoned to such behaviours – though they remain highlighted for church leaders in particular. Goals All these activities clearly serve a goal for Paul, a goal that few would deny as pastoral. Consider the following summary: Paul was first and foremost a missionary-pastor who planted churches and wrote pastoral communications in order to build up his converts in their newfound faith in the crucified and risen Jesus. As one recent interpreter explains, ‘Paul’s theological activity in writing letters to churches was an extension of his missionary activity, which he understood as an apostolic commission.’35

Whether we allow ‘missionary’ or ‘apostle’ to dominate Paul’s identity and any role as ‘pastor’, Flemming captures well Paul’s goal of nurturing the church. Indeed, Colossians expresses a number of overt goals and purposes for the apostolic team, goals that are consistently along these same lines.36 We have already observed the prominence of word groups concerned with maturity and completeness and fullness (τελει-, πληρ-). We then find that these occur in overt statements of ministry purpose. The most overt is found in the first autobiographical section. Here, the summary and goal of the apostolic team’s labours accord directly with Flemming’s analysis: ‘We proclaim Christ, warning every person and teaching every person with every wisdom, so that we might present every person mature/complete in Christ’ (1.28). Paul then confirms that this is the same goal towards which he himself labours (1.29). We have already noted above that the same actions and goal  – ‘always striving for your benefit . . . that

33 Pao, Colossians and Philemon, 249, further notes that Christ is the subject matter in both verses. 34 My translation of this final phrase, often obscured in English versions, finds ready support from most commentators. 35 Dean Flemming, Contextualization in the New Testament (Leicester :  Apollos, 2005), 90, citing Mark A. Seifrid, Justification by Faith, NovTSup 68 (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 261–62. 36 Acts likewise records Paul’s concern to strengthen established churches as much as to found new ones. See Alan J. Thompson, The Acts of the Risen Lord Jesus, NSBT 27 (Nottingham: Apollos, 2011), 62–67, and his chapter in the present volume.

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you might stand mature and filled with all the will of God’  – is shared by the Colossians’ immediate pastor, Epaphras (4.12).37 That same autobiographical section continues with further purposes. The opening verses of ch. 2 are quite explicit (cf. 2.2 NIV: ‘My goal is’). Most overtly, Paul wants believers’ hearts, in Colossae and Laodicea and elsewhere, to be encouraged. Three more clauses here might spell out goals secondary to this one, though unity and fully rich insights and knowledge of Christ might further comprise four coordinate purposes of Paul’s struggles.38 The corresponding alternative to maturity and encouragement is also articulated: that the congregation not be deceived (2.4). An explicit positive assessment of their current disciplined and faithful performance (2.5), as with the thanksgiving that opens the letter, further showcases Paul’s intentions for his readers. Other purpose clauses corroborate such intentions. In 1.25, Paul describes himself as being given a commission (οἰκονομία; cf. 1 Cor. 9.17; Eph. 3.2). The purpose or content of this commission is explicit: to fulfil or complete the word of God (which word is then further explicated in 1.26).39 In isolation, such a commission may sound cerebral, but there are plenty of ends of an arguably ‘pastoral’ nature for which his commission is tendered. Even if 1.9 outlines the content of the apostles’ prayers rather than their end goal, such prayers for a completion of knowledge and insight want the recipients to live worthily of and pleasingly to the Lord (1.10); such behaviour is then quantified in the four ensuing participial clauses (1.10–12).

3. Conclusions While I have avoided being too prescriptive as to our methodology, it would seem that Colossians remains worth investigating in our studies of Paul, of pastoring and of any intersection between those two domains. Of course, any definitions that we bring to the epistle may be more or less favourable to the notion of Paul as a pastor to the Colossians. We have seen that some assumptions discourage using Colossians to contribute to our topic. Other definitions may heartily align with the descriptions found in the letter; many elements in Oden’s summary of modern pastors ring true for the portraits painted in Colossians. Few would balk at the suggestion that Paul – along with other itinerant

37 The same goal obtains even if ἵνα introduces the content of Epaphras’s persistent prayers rather than their overt purpose. Likewise, though my translation follows those who see πληροφορέω as linked closely with πληρόω, I do not think it suffers substantially if the more psychological understanding (‘fully assured/convinced’) is preferred. 38 So Harris, Colossians & Philemon, 71, a relatively lone voice. 39 The petition of 1.9b, with its own behavioural targets in the ensuing verses, suggests another similar goal of the apostles’ continual prayers (though the near-complete consensus is that, syntactically, the ἵνα clause here introduces the content of these prayers; cf. 4.3).

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and local ministers  – is ‘a member of the body of Christ who is called by God and the church and set apart by ordination representatively to proclaim the Word, to administer the sacraments, and to guide and nurture the Christian community toward full response to God’s self-disclosure’.40 It may be that formulations like Oden’s incorporate the evidence of Colossians; they will be self-fulfilling to some extent. The question then becomes which definitions or criteria should be favoured over others. Certainly Colossians paints a portrait of Paul and Timothy as church leaders who demonstrate great concern for a Christian congregation, even one at a distance. The letter both recounts and exemplifies activities such as teaching and prayer: acts of intercession aimed at serving the congregation in order to foster their growth towards maturity and fullness. When such highlights are expressed this way, it seems difficult to imagine objections that these comprise significant elements expected of pastors. The letter also gives some insights into the pastoral ministries of others whom Paul commends, especially Epaphras. The text itself overtly links the work of Epaphras (and Tychicus and Archippus) with the ministries of Paul and others. To the extent that Epaphras and his local peers are described as ‘pastors’ – as occurs readily and regularly – we are warranted to adopt or adapt such language for Paul and his more distant colleagues.

40 Oden, Pastoral Theology, 50.

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Chapter 10 M O T H E R , F AT H E R , I N FA N T, O R P HA N , B R O T H E R :   P AU L’ S V A R I E G AT E D P A ST O R A L S T R AT E G Y T OWA R D S H I S T H E S S A L O N IA N C H U R C H   F A M I LY Trevor J. Burke

In what sense, if at all, can Paul be said to have fulfilled the role of a pastor? Certainly from a modern understanding of pastoral care and a cursory reading of the Acts of the Apostles, the sense we sometimes get is that Paul seldom settled in any one place long enough to actually look after a church. Indeed, when we turn to some of his letters (e.g. Romans), Paul proffers his prior commitment to mission and evangelism as the reason for his inability to pay a pastoral visit to this church: ‘I planned to come to you (but have been prevented from doing so up until now) . . . [I]t has always been my ambition to preach the gospel where Christ was not known, so that I  would not be building on someone else’s foundation’ (Rom. 15.20).1 Of this anomaly, one recent interpreter observes: ‘[Paul’s] pastoral dimension . . . poses a problem’ because, as he further enquires, ‘How can one who is a pioneer church planter, driven forward by a vision for the unreached, devote so much of his time and energy to the pastoral care and follow up of the churches he established?’2 It is a legitimate question to ask, because it seems that Paul more often appears on the pages of Scripture as an itinerant missionary who was more

1 Though, of course, Paul did not establish the community at Rome. 2 Don N. Howell Jr, ‘Mission in Paul’s Epistles: Genesis, Pattern, and Dynamics’, in Mission in the New Testament: An Evangelical Approach, ed. William J. Larkin and Joel F. Williams (New York: Orbis, 2003), 63–91 (quote 75, italics added). Thomas Schreiner asserts: ‘Nor was Paul primarily a pastor who exercised leadership over his churches. Paul appointed elders or overseers for that task (Phil 1:1; 1 Tim 3:1–7; 5:17–25; Tit 1:5–9).’ However, Schreiner concludes that ‘Paul . . . did . . . function in a pastoral role in his churches by visiting them after they were planted, and by writing them letters to instruct, admonish, and encourage them’; Paul, Apostle of God’s Glory in Christ: A Pauline Theology (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2001), 38 (italics added).

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preoccupied with establishing communities than any long-term commitment or pastoral care of them.3 The tension between these two roles  – Paul as pioneer missionary and pastor – has been addressed in different ways by Pauline interpreters. Paul Bowers, for instance, is of the view that Paul’s missionary vocation found its ‘fulfilment’ (Rom. 15.19) through evangelization followed by the planting of churches and demonstrates a threefold pattern: (1) initial evangelization and preaching, (2) establishing of communities and (3) nurturing of those churches to Christian maturity.4 According to Bowers, Paul maintained his pastoral commitment by writing letters and making further visits to those communities he had founded. Michael Barram, on the other hand, has recently advanced the view that Paul never ceased being a missionary: even after he had founded communities, he was still functioning in this capacity, as is evident in his follow-up work of writing letters, giving advice, issuing warnings and providing encouragement. He writes: ‘Paul’s mission becomes the fundamental rubric through which his writings, thought and activity can be understood on their own terms.’5 To Barram’s way of thinking, Paul primarily viewed himself as a missionary. Other interpreters adopt a via media position, a stance taken by Stephen Barton, who argues that Paul was both ‘missionary and pastor’.6 Barton further adds that the apostle’s mission to the Gentiles ‘had as its purpose, not only evangelization, but also the founding of churches and their continuing nurture’.7 That Paul spent lengthy periods of time with some communities cannot be doubted, as a close scrutiny of Acts clearly demonstrates. For instance, Paul stayed three years with the church at Ephesus (Acts 19.8, 10; 20.31), and he also resided with the believers in Corinth for an eighteen-month period (18.11). In these cases, Paul invested much time and energy into ensuring that his churches were developing and maturing, even in locations such as Corinth, where he faced outright

3 Paul’s role as missionary is one that had been overlooked until recently, but as Eckhard Schnabel rightly points out, ‘Before he was anything else, Paul was first and foremost a missionary’; Eckhard J.  Schnabel, ‘The Theology of the New Testament as Missionary Theology:  The Missionary Reality of the Early Church and the Theology of the First Theologians’ (paper presented at the SNTS, Halle, August 2005), 24; see also Schreiner, Paul, Apostle of God’s Glory, 37–102. For an approach that looks primarily at the Pauline corpus and how Paul viewed his role as missionary, see Paul as Missionary: Identity, Activity, Theology, and Practice, LNTS 420, ed. Trevor J. Burke and Brian S. Rosner (London: T&T Clark, 2011). 4 W. Paul Bowers, ‘Fulfilling the Gospel:  The Scope of the Pauline Mission’, JETS 30 (1987): 185–98. 5 Michael D. Barram, Mission and Moral Reflection in Paul (New  York:  Peter Lang, 2006), 22 (italics added). 6 Stephen C. Barton, ‘Paul as Missionary and Pastor’, in The Cambridge Companion to St Paul, ed. James D. G. Dunn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 34–48. 7 Ibid., 45 (italics added).

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opposition and hostility from those inside and outside the community. Barton is therefore on the right path, because while the pioneer-pastor tension might appear on one level inconsistent, at a deeper, substantive level it is not a contradiction; rather, it is antinomy (not a contradiction), which we encounter in many of the great thinkers, including the apostle Paul.8 One of the best places to test Paul’s pastoral commitment to his churches is his letters to the Thessalonians. This is so because it was in Thessalonica that Paul and his associates, Silas and Timothy, were suddenly and abruptly hounded out of town not long after founding the community (Acts 17.5–15). According to the account in Acts, Paul spent only ‘three sabbaths’ (17.2) in the town before being forcibly severed from the church.9 That said, there is no lack of internal evidence to show his continued interest in the Thessalonians’well-being. For example, the fact that Paul wrote these two letters to the church at Thessalonica to find out how they were progressing (1 Thess. 3.5) is evidence of his pastoral care and concern.10 And, even though Paul was abruptly and painfully detached from the Thessalonian church, he writes to remind the community of the sacrificial love he had demonstrated while still in their midst: ‘Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well’ (2.8; cf. 2.17–3.10). If we probe further, Paul’s pastoral concern in these letters is especially evident in the terminology he employs to describe his relationship to his converts.11 It has long been my contention that this relational dimension lies at the heart of Paul’s entire approach to his ministry, including his strategy as pastor.12 Paul is 8 For more on this, see N. T. Wright’s insightful article, ‘Putting Paul Together Again’, in Pauline Theology, vol. 1:  Thessalonians, Philippians, Galatians, Philemon, ed. Jouette M. Bassler (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 186–90. 9 Most commentators are of the view that Paul must have stayed longer in Thessalonica in order to establish a community, possibly as long as two to three months. This does not contradict the account in Acts (for the author does not provide a verbatim account of all that happened during Paul’s missionary travels) or, for that matter, in Paul’s or Peter’s sermons; see I. Howard Marshall, 1 and 2 Thessalonians, NCB (London: Marshall, Morgan and Scott, 1983), 5. 10 Ernest Best, Paul and His Converts (Edinburgh:  T&T Clark, 1988), 30, rightly notes: ‘Had he not loved his converts, Paul would never have written to them after he had left them.’ 11 In his seminal study, Robert Banks rightly asserts: ‘the comparison of the Christian community with a “family” must be regarded as the most significant metaphorical usage of all . . . More than any of the other images utilized by Paul, it reveals the essence of his thinking about community’; Robert J. Banks, Paul’s Idea of Community: The Early House Churches in Their Cultural Setting (Peabody : Hendrickson, 1994), 49 (italics added). 12 This is especially so in Thessalonians, where Paul uses a plethora of personal pronouns; see Casey W. Davis, ‘Oral Biblical Criticism: Raw Data in Philippians’, in Linguistics and the New Testament: Critical Junctures, ed. Stanley E. Porter and D. A. Carson, JSNTSup 168 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999), 115 n.55. For the importance of relationship and

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deeply and intensely personal in the way he relates to his communities, which is no less a reflection of the relentlessly relational God he had been called to serve.13 Indeed, the Thessalonian letters contain a heavy concentration of familial terminology, which, when compared to Paul’s other letters, is in a league of its own.14 To be sure, Paul describes God as ‘Father’ in these letters (1.1, 3; 3.13; 2 Thess. 1.2). Nevertheless, he also uses a stunning array of familial metaphors – even more than what he uses of God – to define his own parental roles with the Thessalonians.15 In particular, Paul assumes the dual responsibilities of ‘nursing-mother’ (1 Thess. 2.7) and ‘father’ (2.11) for the Thessalonians, whom he (twice) describes as his ‘children’ (2.7, 11). Indeed, Paul even appears to invert these obligations by referring to himself as an ‘infant’ (2.7) and ‘orphan’ (2.17).16 Paul’s favourite familial expression in Thessalonians, however, is ‘brothers/sisters’, a term he uses a staggering nineteen times in the first letter (1.4; 2.1, 9, 14, 17; 3.2, 7; 4.1, 6, 10 [twice], 13; 5.1, 4, 12, 14, 25, 26, 27) and eight in the second (2 Thess. 1.3; 2.1, 13, 15; 3.1, 6, 13, 15); from beginning to end, Thessalonians breathes brotherly/sisterly language. In one sense, this prevalence of household language is understandable, given that ‘family’ was the basic building block in the ancient East Mediterranean world. That is, ‘what you had done’ (i.e. achieved honour) was of much less importance than ‘the one to whom you belonged’ (i.e. ascribed honour). In other words, a person’s identity (‘who they were’) was always traced to his or her parents, and to the father in particular.17 In another sense, ‘sister’ or ‘brother’, for example, was no empty epithet

Paul’s familial expressions, see Trevor J. Burke, Family Matters: A Socio-Historical Study of Kinship Metaphors in 1 Thessalonians, JSNTSup 247 (London: T&T Clark, 2003). 13 Evidence of the latter is that the God of Scripture has revealed himself in no less a personal and relational way than by sending Jesus, his one and only Son, into the world in order to save humankind. 14 Familial language is employed at a ratio of 1:4.6 verses in 1 Thessalonians. For full statistics, see Burke, Family Matters, 166. 15 There is no discrepancy between God as Father and Paul as father, because in the area of instruction (for example), ‘what he [Paul] taught . . . was God’s own teaching and word (see 1 Thess. 2:2–9)’; Ben Witherington III, 1 and 2 Thessalonians: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 120; Trevor J. Burke, ‘Paul’s New Family in Thessalonica’, NovT 54 (2012): 269–87, esp. 286. 16 The possibility of Paul (or his associates) assuming the roles of ‘infant’ and ‘orphan’, however, are very much disputed by scholars; the former reading depends on how one views the variant in 2.7 (and punctuates the surrounding verses), which could also be understood as ‘gentle’, and the latter may legitimately refer to the Thessalonian community (rather than to Paul or his associates) as the ‘orphan’. See discussion later in this chapter and the brief treatment in Burke, Family Matters, 157–60. 17 For example, David A. deSilva, Honor, Patronage, Kinship and Purity:  Unlocking New Testament Culture (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press), 28–31, 158–63; Burke, Family Matters, 203–44; Burke, Adopted into God’s Family: Exploring a Pauline Metaphor, NSBT 22 (Nottingham: InterVarsity Press, 2006), 152–76.

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for Paul, but was instead a ‘live’ metaphor pregnant with meaning and content that would immediately resonate with his hearers. What this all means is that when Paul founded new communities, he not only organized them around local households (e.g. 1 Cor. 16.19; Col. 4.16; Phlm. 2), he also used familial language as the means by which those same communities were sustained.18 Evidently Paul felt able to tap into the language of the household in order to reconstruct a new identity by which the community at Thessalonica was to be known, a new church family that was countercultural to the prevailing mores of the day, where the emphasis was on the shared bonds of belonging that united them as siblings in Christ.

Method of approach In recent years, scholars have posited different influences or backgrounds for Paul’s understanding of his role as pastor. Abraham Malherbe, for instance, in his significant study, has focused on the philosophical tradition of Paul’s pastoral care, particularly the relationship between moral philosophers (e.g. Cynics, Stoics and Epicureans) and the apostle.19 Thus, in 1 Thess. 2.7 and the wet-nurse metaphor, Malherbe posits that Paul is using a conventional topos (form of speech) concerning the work of a philosopher.20 To be sure, there are certain similarities between Paul’s role as pastor and the philosophical tradition, but there are also clear differences, as Malherbe readily admits.21 Moreover, Beverly Gaventa provides a threepronged argument to question the validity of using the term ‘topos’ to describe a text such as 2.7.22 A more natural milieu for Paul’s matrix of familial metaphors in 1 and 2 Thessalonians is the Jewish context – Paul was a Jew and remained a Jew (or was a refreshed Jew23) even after his conversion. But rather than arguing one background or another, which is a false antithesis, both need to be kept in view. With this in mind, my contention is that when Paul employs these familial

18 Barton, ‘Paul as Missionary and Pastor’, 38. 19 Abraham J. Malherbe, Paul and the Thessalonians:  The Philosophic Tradition of Pastoral Care (Mifflintown: Sigler, 2000), 3. 20 Abraham J. Malherbe, ‘“Gentle as a Nurse”: The Cynic Background to 1 Thess. ii’, NovT 12 (1970): 203–17. 21 Malherbe, Paul and the Thessalonians, 4. 22 Beverly R. Gaventa, Our Mother Saint Paul (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox, 2007), 22, provides the following rebuttal: (1) there is a remoteness between the nurse and the speaker; (2)  in the text in question (i.e. Dio Chrysostom), the image of the nurse is absent; and (3) the actual Greek word τροφός does not appear in any of the texts used by Malherbe. 23 N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, COQG 4 (London:  SPCK, 2013), 611: ‘Paul remained a thoroughly Jewish thinker . . . [but] like many other Jewish thinkers … he radically revised and rethought his Jewish tradition . . . around a fresh understanding of the divine purposes’ (italics added).

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expressions in these (or other) letters, he is drawing on a whole raft of Jewish and non-Jewish assumptions  – what we might call stereotypical attitudes or normal social expectations – of household life vis-à-vis fathers, mothers, brothers/sisters, children, etc., in order to regulate the affairs of this community. Presumably when Paul employed these metaphors, there were norms, ideals or stock meanings associated with these various roles that he assumes.24 We now turn to consider some of these metaphors.

1. Paul’s pastoral strategy as parent As noted, Paul is writing to a fledgling community from which he had been separated (1 Thess. 2.17) and to which he is extremely anxious to return (2.18). Of all the letters Paul wrote to the churches he had founded, it is in Thessalonians that we find him demonstrating the greatest angst: he is anxious and agitated, at his wits’ end and desperate to return (2.17–3.5). One of the reasons for the latter is that Paul has some unfinished business he needs to attend to, as he puts it in 3.10: ‘we pray most earnestly that we may see you again and supply what is lacking in your faith’. After his enforced departure, Paul has learned of matters that have arisen in the church that need to be addressed, including the fate of those who have died in Christ, and in particular whether some would miss out when Christ comes again in glory (4.15–16). This ‘pastoral crisis’,25 as Margaret Mitchell terms it, is compounded by other ‘deficiencies’,26 including sexual immorality (4.3–8) and the need for a proper work ethic (4.9–12).27 In addressing such matters, Paul has pastoral goals for the community, which have an eschatological edge, a point no better summarized than in his prayer-wish in 3.13: ‘May God strengthen your hearts so that you may . . . be blameless and holy in the presence of God when our Lord Jesus comes with all his holy ones.’ In view of this, Paul’s ultimate ethical objective for this community is for it to be changed via the power and personal presence of the Holy Spirit so as to be presented mature in Christ Jesus at the eschaton.28

24 Halvor Moxnes, ‘What Is Family? Problems in Constructing Early Christian Families’, in Constructing Early Christian Families: Family as Social Reality and Metaphor, ed. Halvor Moxnes (London: Routledge, 1998), 18; Burke, Family Matters, esp. 28–33. 25 Margaret M. Mitchell, ‘1 and 2 Thessalonians’, in Dunn, Cambridge Companion to St Paul, 51–63 (here 55). 26 Gordon D. Fee, God’s Empowering Presence:  The Holy Spirit in the Letters of Paul (Peabody : Hendrickson, 1994), 43. 27 Jeffrey A. D. Weima, Neglected Endings: The Significance of the Pauline Letter Closings, JSNTSup 101 (Sheffield: Academic Press, 1994), 195. 28 See Trevor J.  Burke, ‘The Holy Spirit as the Controlling Dynamic in Paul’s Role as Missionary to the Thessalonians’, in Burke and Rosner, Paul as Missionary, 142–57 (esp. 150–54); Burke, ‘The Spirit in Romans’, in A Biblical Theology of the Holy Spirit, ed. Trevor J. Burke and Keith Warrington (London: SPCK, 2014), 129–45, esp. 141–42.

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Thus, James Thompson rightly posits that ‘[the basis for Paul’s] . . . pastoral theology . . . [is] transformation’.29 The fledgling Thessalonian church, comprising mostly Gentiles from a pagan background (1.9), faces ongoing challenges where change and adjustment will be gradual rather than instantaneous as these nascent believers are resocialized into the distinctively Christian way of living. a. Paul as Mater (2.7–8) Paul (unusually in one letter) employs both parental roles in relation to his Thessalonian offspring, that of ‘nursing mother’ (2.7) and ‘father’ (2.11). Though Paul cannot now be present with his convert-children, his letter acts as a substitute for his personal presence.30 This, together with the parental roles he assumes, carries the power to effect Paul’s pastoral leadership among them. Contextually, 2.7–8 is situated in a passage where Paul presents an apology (a defence) of his actions in which he dissociates himself from other religious quacks (so-called sophists) who would arrive in a town and preach an eloquent sermon before seeking remuneration, and then leave without ever being seen again (2.1–4). Paul, however, is in this for the long haul and demonstrates his commitment to the Thessalonian community by reminding his spiritual progeny of his conduct when in their midst, evident by the repeated use of the disclosure formula throughout: ‘you know’ (οἴδατε, 1.5; 2.1, 2, 5, 11; 3.3, 4; 4.2, 5.2).31 Paul’s behaviour was above reproach and, more important, in the first instance he writes in maternal terms as the defining description of his relationship to them: ‘just as a nursing mother (τροφός) cares for her own children, so we cared for you. Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share not only the gospel but our lives as well’ (2.7b–8).32 Here it is immediately striking that Paul, a man living in a patriarchal society, should assume a maternal role towards his congregation, which does not contradict but rather complements 29 James W. Thompson, Pastoral Ministry According to Paul: A Biblical Vision (Grand Rapids:  Baker Academic, 2006), 19. Thompson makes the important point in his monograph that ‘Paul’s pastoral theology . . . is largely ignored in contemporary conversations about the nature of . . . ministry’ (59). 30 Jane M. F. Heath, ‘Absent Presences of Paul and Christ: Enargeia in 1 Thessalonians 1–3’, JSNT 32 (2009), 3–38, argues that enargeia is akin to ‘imaginative memory’, or a ‘quality of language which makes the audience experience something absent as if present’. She admits, however, that ‘Enargeia . . . achieves only a seeming presence, not the solid reality’. Moreover, 2.17 (ἐσπουδάσαμεν τὸ πρόσωπον ὑμῶν ἰδεῖν) suggests that Paul wants to return physically to be with the Thessalonians in person in order to address what is lacking and to complete the task he started (3.10); see Gordon D. Fee, The First and Second Letters to the Thessalonians, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 106. 31 In addition, Paul also says ‘you remember’ (μνημονεύετε, 2.9), ‘you are witnesses’ (μάρτυρες, 2.10) and ‘we do not want you to be ignorant’ (οὐ . . . ἀγνοεῖν, 4.13). 32 These verses contain a classic text-critical issue, namely whether Paul is describing himself as ‘gentle’ (ἤπιοι) or himself and his associates as ‘infants’ (νήπιοι). For a short discussion, see Burke, Family Matters, 154–57.

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his paternal responsibilities (2.11), as Gaventa points out: ‘Paul’s use of maternal imagery is another way of cultivating a family relationship among Christians.’33 By assuming a female role, Paul, to coin a pun, is speaking his own ‘mother-tongue’ as one way of conceptualizing his obligation to this fledgling church.34 That Paul should employ female imagery is (in one sense) fitting, because mothers in the ancient world were responsible for nurturing and weaning neonates. That Paul should also do so as a first-century man is remarkably striking and noteworthy. To be sure, the umbilical cord between Paul and the Thessalonians had indeed been cut, but Paul still views his relationship with this young community, from which he had been so abruptly and physically removed at such an early and formative stage in the church’s life, as deeply intimate and close. Interestingly, in the physical realm, Philo, Paul’s Jewish near-contemporary, underscores something of the harmful and deleterious effects of separating a new mother from her young progeny as follows: because of the maternal affection, particularly at a time of motherhood, when the breasts are . . . strained by the weight of the milk within them . . . [what] . . . could be more brutal than . . . the pangs . . . of separating the . . . mothers straightway from their offspring. (Virt. 128, italics added)

What Philo describes in the natural order suitably encapsulates in the spiritual realm the apostle’s experience of separation from the Thessalonians  – Paul had been suddenly ripped away from his spiritual offspring and now longs to be reunited with them. As their mother, he has a natural affinity for his converts, as evidenced by the causal participle (ὁμειρόμενοι, ‘because we love [you]’, 2.8; cf. 3.12), which provides the reason for Paul’s sharing of the gospel (2.8b) with this community – namely his deep affection for them. Love of parents for their children was an obligation in the ancient world, as the following emotive remark by Philo demonstrates:  ‘parents cherish their children with extreme tenderness (πειδὴ γὰρ γονεῖς παῖδας ὑπερβαλλούσῃ χρώμενοι φιλοστοργία) because they are fast bound to them by the magnet forces of affection (δυνάμεσιν ὁλκοῖς εὐνοίας συνδεδεμένοι) and exceeding tenderness (τὸ λίαν φιλόστοργον αὐτῶν)’ (Spec. Leg. 2: 240).35 Love, too, was the bedrock of Paul’s pastoral care (cf. 1 Cor. 13), but such affection ran deeper than what he could dispense with his lips (i.e. the good news), as the correlative construction (οὐ μόνον . . . ἀλλὰ καὶ) in 2.8 makes clear; it

33 Beverly R. Gaventa, First and Second Thessalonians, IBC (Louisville:  John Knox, 1998), 33 (italics added). Paul elsewhere uses female imagery of himself (Gal. 4.19; 1 Cor. 3.13) as well as of the created order (i.e. Rom. 8.18–25). See Jennifer Houston McNeel, Paul as Infant and Nursing Mother:  Metaphor, Rhetoric, and Identity in 1 Thessalonians 2:5–8, ECL 12 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014). 34 Susan G. Eastman, Recovering Paul’s Mother Tongue:  Language and Theology in Galatians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007). 35 All extra-biblical quotations are taken from the LCL.

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included the greater sacrifice of his own self-giving: ‘we were delighted to share not only the gospel but our lives (τὰς ἑαυτῶν ψυχάς) as well’. As their mother-in-theLord, Paul spared no expense in his provision for the Thessalonians, which agrees with what he says concerning his parental support of another community he had founded:  ‘children should not have to save up for their parents, but parents for their children (οἱ γονεῖς τοῖς τέκνοις). So I will very gladly spend for you everything I have and expend myself as well’ (2 Cor. 12.14–15).36 This sharing of his life, along with the term ‘nursing mother’, identifies the life-giving sustenance and nourishment necessary for this brood to grow and mature. Complementing this is the warm term θάλπῃ (‘cherish’, 2.7), which portrays a picture of a close, relational intimacy and describes the tenderness of his dealings with this church-family. Augustine, the church father, aptly describes Paul’s maternal disposition towards the Thessalonians as ‘the apostle’s . . . juicy feelings of love’ for them.37 Unlike the itinerant charlatans of the time, Paul was deeply committed and immersed in the affairs of this community (ἐγενήθημεν . . . ἐν μέσῳ ὑμῶν, ‘we were . . . in your midst’, v. 7b), caring for them as if they were ‘his own children’ (τὰ ἑαυτῆς τέκνα, v. 7b). More than this, Paul ‘shared’ (μεταδοῦναι, v. 8), that is, he ‘gave (a part of)’ his own life for the sake of the Thessalonians.38 In all this, Paul is no paper apostle who can be confined to the pages of Scripture,39 but like Jesus (e.g. Mk 10.45; Jn 1.14), of whom he was a follower, his service and pastoral ministry were essentially incarnational and cruciform in shape, manifested in the sacrificial giving of himself in the service of those to whom he had been called.40 b. Paul as Pater (2.9–12) In close proximity to and complementing the earlier maternal image is the apostle’s description of himself as pater, a highly complex and variegated role.41 Paul’s paternal role towards his convert-children (vv. 7, 11)  is prefaced by his call for the Thessalonians to remember how he conducted himself among them: ‘you are 36 On the emotional aspect, see Daniel Marguerat, Paul in Acts and Paul in His Letters, WUNT 1/310 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 220–21. 37 Augustine, Sermons 23.3, cited in Peter J. Gorday, Colossians, 1–2 Thessalonians, 1–2 Timothy, Titus, Philemon, ACCS 9 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 66. 38 BDAG 638. The verb connotes the giving of something by which the giver retains one part and the receiver another so that they both share in the matter; Ernst von Dobschütz, Die Thessalonikerbriefe, KEK 10 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1974), 95. 39 Adolf Deissmann, St. Paul: A Study in Social and Religious History (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2004), 4, writes: ‘the task of the modern student of St. Paul [is] to come back from the paper St. Paul of our western libraries, Germanized, dogmatized, modernized, to the historic St. Paul . . . to the St. Paul of ancient reality’ (italics added). 40 See Michael J. Gorman, Inhabiting the Cruciform God:  Kenosis, Justification, and Theosis in Paul’s Narrative Soteriology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009). 41 For a fuller discussion of Paul’s paternal obligations to the Thessalonians, see Burke, Family Matters, 131–51.

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witnesses and so is God, of how holy, righteous and blameless we were among you who believed’ (v. 10). The ubiquitous ‘disclosure formula’ (‘you know’, οἴδατε, v. 11), which immediately follows, doubly underscores the Thessalonians’ awareness of how Paul had ‘dealt with . . . [them] as a father deals with his own children’ (v. 11).42 Paul’s converts are fully cognizant of the example he left behind; indeed, earlier in the letter he commended them for being ‘imitators of us’ (1.6).43 The notion of imitation, moreover, was one that pervaded the ancient world of Paul’s day, a world in which teachers and parents, especially fathers, were expected to model behaviour for their pupils and offspring to follow. For instance, Isocrates’s exhortation to Demonicus to emulate his father, Hipponicus, typically illustrates this point: ‘I have produced a sample of the nature of Hipponicus after whom you should pattern your life as after an ensample, regarding his conduct as your law, and striving to imitate and emulate your father’s virtue’ (Dem. 4.11; cf. Plutarch, De Lib. 20.14b). As regards imitation, some Pauline interpreters, such as Elizabeth Castelli, have argued that Paul’s mimetic language must be read as a discourse of power where total control and sameness are prized over difference.44 Castelli contends further that Paul’s claim to authority is not benign, for ‘the paternal metaphor . . . does not evoke a sense of kindness or love’.45 While Castelli is right to understand the father-child relationship as one of inequality, one cannot read Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians (or the Corinthians, which is her main focus) without concluding that he also had a deep affection for his spiritual offspring (e.g. 1 Thess. 1.4; 2.8; 3.12; cf. 2 Cor. 12:15), a typical parental trait in the ancient world (e.g. Philo, Spec. Leg. 1.137; 2.240; Josephus, Ant. 1.222; Aristotle, Eth. Nich. 8.12.2; Plutarch; De Amor. 3/495C; 4/496D). Love and authority/hierarchy are two sides of the one paternal coin for the apostle Paul and ought not to be separated.46 The particular aspect of imitation to which Paul draws attention in these verses concerns his lifestyle as manifested in a practical work ethic for the Thessalonians to follow (2.9). Rather than sponge off his spiritual offspring, Paul preferred to toil and provide for himself, as he points out: ‘Surely you remember, brothers and sisters, our toil and hardship:  we worked night and day in order not to be a burden to anyone while we preached the gospel of God to you.’47 Paul’s legacy was to leave behind an example of industrious activity and hard work the Thessalonians could see (and witness firsthand) and could potentially imitate; indeed, Paul’s mentioning his 42 There is no verb in v. 10. The various Bible translations use ‘treated’, ‘dealt’, ‘raised’, etc. 43 The notion of imitation in 1.6 is limited to coping under duress, in contrast to other examples, where Paul explicitly calls upon his convert-children to follow his example (e.g. 1 Cor. 4.16; 11.1). 44 Elizabeth A. Castelli, Imitating Paul: A Discourse of Power (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox, 1991), 32. 45 Ibid., 109. 46 See Trevor J. Burke, ‘Pauline Paternity in 1 Thessalonians’, TynBul 51 (2000): 59–87. 47 At the beginning of the letter, Paul reminds the community, ‘you know how we lived among you for your sake’ (οἴδατε οἷοι ἐγενήθημεν [ἐν] ὑμῖν διʼ ὑμᾶς, 1.5).

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toil and labour may well be significant here, especially if, as most commentators hold, some within the community were not working (cf. 4.9–12; 5.12–15; 2 Thess. 3.7–10).48 If this is so, it immediately prompts the question of why Paul does not more forcefully draw attention to this or call upon the Thessalonians to imitate his worthy work pattern. The answer to this is not clear – perhaps Paul expects them to have imbibed his example without having to exercise his authority for them to comply. A further dimension of Paul’s paternal obligation includes ‘encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of the God who calls you into his kingdom and glory’ (2.12). Paul’s self-characterization as a father here implies a didactic or instructional component on his part, which is not surprising for two reasons: first, this was a normal social expectation in both Jewish (e.g. Philo, Spec. Leg. 2.29; cf. Deut. 4.9; 6.20; 11.19) and Graeco-Roman families (Cicero, De Off. 1.2.4; 1.3.7; Quintillian, Inst. Praef. 9–12); and second, this mostly Gentile community (1.9–10) would not have had the same moral baggage on board as their more privileged Jewish counterparts and would therefore need to be taught the distinctively Christian way of life. Certainly, Paul says later in the letter that the Thessalonians are ‘God-taught’ (θεοδίδακτοί, 4.9; cf. Isa. 54.13), which is more than likely a reference to the vital work of the Holy Spirit.49 However, it is hard not to conclude that Paul as their father did not have a role to play in their instruction as well. Indeed, Paul himself, at the beginning of the paraenetic section of the letter, reminds the Thessalonians: ‘for you know what instructions we gave you by the authority of the Lord Jesus’ (4.2). Stephen Witmer rightly observes of 4.9 that Paul does not say ‘the Thessalonians need no one to “teach” them, but that they need no one to “write” to them’.50 Additionally, that Paul as father assumed a teaching role is strengthened by the fact that he also exercised a didactic function in his paternal obligations to another community he had founded. After Paul left Corinth, he sent Timothy, ‘my son whom I love . . . [to] remind you of my way of life in Christ Jesus, which agrees with what I teach everywhere in every church (καθὼς πανταχοῦ ἐν πάσῃ ἐκκλησίᾳ διδάσκω)’ (1 Cor. 4.17). But what exactly did Paul hope to achieve through his paternal instruction? Paul’s goals mirrored those of the ancient world, namely the transformation and leading of the child out of immaturity, ignorance and irrationality into responsible adulthood. In pursuing this, his paternal and pastoral provision was personally crafted and tailored for every member of the church, for he ‘dealt with each one of you (ὡς ἕνα ἕκαστον ὑμῶν) as a father deals with his own children’ (1 Thess. 2.11). Every Christian of the Thessalonian community, however, also lived in the full glare and knowledge of the greater responsibility of upholding the good name and reputation of the entire church-family, understood by Paul as living ‘lives worthy of

48 For example, Malherbe, Thessalonians, 249. 49 See Burke, ‘The Holy Spirit as the Controlling Dynamic’, 154–55. 50 Stephen E. Witmer, Divine Instruction in Early Christianity, WUNT 2/246 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 163 (italics added).

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the God who calls you (ὑμᾶς) into his kingdom and glory’ (v. 12).51 In other words, the moral obligation for believers not to tarnish the name of the whole community took precedence over any individual goals they might have had. In this way, Paul’s ethics as pastor are no less than ecclesial ethics.52

2. Paul’s pastoral strategy as infant and orphan a. Paul as infant (2.7) Given the parental language Paul employs of himself (2.7, 11) and the filial terminology he reserves for his Thessalonian converts (2.7, 11), it is somewhat surprising to learn of two possible occasions where he appears to invert this relationship by describing himself as an ‘infant’ (2.7) and ‘orphan’ (2.17). As regards the former, the NIV, for example, translates and punctuates vv. 6–7 accordingly: ‘We were not looking for praise from people, not from you or anyone else, even though as apostles we could have asserted our authority. Instead, we were like young children (νήπιοι) among you.’53 If this is the right way to read the variant, Paul as an adult man assuming the role of an ‘infant’ is highly paradoxical and creates a ‘jarring image’,54 jolting the reader into what he can possibly mean or be conveying. After all, and as noted earlier, is not Paul the parent in this letter? So how can he also be the child? And if he does assume this more socially inferior role, what can he possibly mean? For some interpreters, it is a stretch to understand Paul as describing himself as an infant, since (it is argued) he mostly uses this metaphor in a pejorative manner in his letters (e.g. 1 Cor. 3.1–3). However, there are occasions when he employs ‘infant’ positively (e.g. 1 Cor. 14.20) as well as in a more neutral sense (1 Cor. 13.11).55 Additionally, elsewhere in Scripture, including the Septuagint (LXX), νήπιος is used to describe a person whose motives are pure and without guile (e.g.

51 The communal note is clear from the heavy use of the second-person plural pronoun in vv. 11–12. 52 Wayne A. Meeks, The Origins of Christian Morality: The First Two Centuries (New Haven:  Yale University Press, 1993), 5, succinctly and appropriately makes the connection when he concludes: ‘Making morals means making community.’ 53 See Gordon D. Fee’s seminal paper, which was influential in ‘infants’ being the preferred reading, ‘On Text and Commentary on 1 and 2 Thessalonians,’ in SBL 1992 Seminar Papers, ed. Eugene H. Lovering (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), 165–83. 54 Beverly R. Gaventa, ‘Apostles as Babes and Nurses in 1 Thessalonians 2:7’, in Faith and History: Essays in Honor of Paul W. Meyer, ed. John T. Carroll et al. (Atlanta:  Scholars Press, 1991), 193–207 (quote 206). 55 Within and outside of the Scriptures, 75 per cent of the time this word is used as a neutral or descriptive expression, 18 per cent negatively and 6 per cent positively; so Timothy B. Sailors, ‘Wedding Textual and Rhetorical-Literary Criticism to Understand the Text of 1 Thessalonians 2:7’, JSNT 80 (2000): 81–98.

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Pss 18.8 [19.7]; 118 [119].130; Wis. 10.21; Mt. 11.5; 21.16; Lk. 10.21), characteristics that Paul earlier in the letter reminds the Thessalonians were evidenced in his own conduct (1 Thess. 2.1–5). Here Paul uses the repeated antithetical formula ‘not X but Y’: ‘the appeal we make does not spring from error’ (2.3), nor are ‘we . . . trying to please people but God’ (2.4b). More to the point, Paul adds, ‘you know we never used flattery’ (2.5a), nor ‘did we put a mask on to cover up our greed’ (πλεονεξίας, 2.5b), where the noun πλεονεξία is probably a reference to money56 and underscores the fact that Paul is dissociating himself from any kind of financial greed. If this is so, Paul the pastor is reminding his converts of the fact that he has nothing to hide and his manner of life is an open book for them to see and read. In contrast to the prevailing peddling preachers of the day, Paul is not wordsmithing for his own personal profit or advantage. ‘Instead’ (ἀλλά, v. 7b), he continues, ‘we were like young children among you’ (v. 7a), where the strong adversative serves the purpose of highlighting the apostle’s sincerity, innocence and blamelessness. These are ideals that were in keeping with how children in the ancient Mediterranean were perceived, as Philo writes: ‘it is impossible for the greatest liar to invent a charge against them as they are wholly innocent’ (Spec. Leg. 3.119.4). So, even though Paul does not usually depict himself as a child/infant, his doing so here needs to be taken seriously and accounted for within the context of his relationship with this particular community. Paul’s depiction of himself as an infant has sometimes been viewed with a hermeneutic of suspicion and as a means of strengthening his own position in order to gain the good fortune of the Thessalonians.57 But Paul is not ministering for his own personal aggrandizement, because, as we have already established, this church was founded at great personal cost to him and his associates. Neither should Paul’s portrayal of himself as an infant be seen as militating against or contradicting his parental obligations considered earlier. More to the point, assuming such an inferior role is evidence of Paul’s strong, confident relationship with the Thessalonians. His childlike role, moreover, does not deconstruct his parental functions or responsibilities, for (after all) Paul is writing primarily as an adult; nevertheless, his role as ‘infant’ has the effect of softening any potentially oppressive aspects of paternal obligations sometimes associated with aspects of these roles. The sudden shift between metaphors, in what is regarded by many interpreters to be Paul’s earliest extant letter, is also evidence of an evolving relationship with the Thessalonians, a relationship that is in a state of flux. If the variant reading of ‘infants’ is right, it is one of an array of metaphors he employs to describe his role in this letter and could be accounted for in that he is responding to issues facing this nascent community in the midst of a busy itinerant ministry  – Paul is not sitting down to write a long theological treatise. And we should not overlook the fact that Paul’s relations with this church are extremely positive, for he is pleased with their measure of progress (4.1–2). Thus, part of the reason for Paul’s

56 BDAG 824 gives the sense ‘pretext for avarice’. 57 For example, Castelli, Imitating Paul, 111.

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describing himself an as ‘infant’ may lie in the fact that in this letter his authority is not in any danger, nor is it being challenged by his converts, hence the ease with which he can risk taking on such a vulnerable and non-authoritarian pastoral role. b. Paul as orphan (2.17) As observed earlier, 1 Thess. 2.17 is situated in one of the most emotive passages in the Pauline corpus (2.17–3.6), and it is here that Paul also uses one of the most graphic terms to describe his physical separation from the community, the verbal adjective ἀπορφανισθέντες. This participle has been variously translated as ‘we were torn away from you’ (ESV), ‘having been bereft of you’ (NASB) and ‘being taken away from you’ (KJV). A  more satisfactory and literal translation of the expression, however, is provided by the NIV: ‘we were orphaned [by being separated] from you’, which has the advantage of adding to and enhancing the already rich diversity of familial terms throughout the letter. Clearly, the passive voice of the participle demonstrates that this severance was not of Paul’s own volition or choosing. Most interpreters allow the earlier metaphors to colour their understanding of this word and throw the onus on Paul as the mother/father who has been separated from his child, the Thessalonian community. That is, Paul is the parent who has been made childless. To now view Paul as an orphan would seem to militate against such roles.58 There are a number of reasons, however, why Paul as orphan may be the more likely translation. First, linguistic evidence suggests that the Greek word across a broad swathe of ancient sources has the meaning ‘orphaned’.59 Second, such a reading finds further support in what he writes later in 3.1 when he travels on from Thessalonica:  ‘we thought it best to be left by ourselves (i.e. ‘alone’, μόνοι) in Athens’. Third, the participle is a hapax legomenon, which suggests that this is probably a word chosen by Paul for a particular purpose to engender a sense of solidarity with his converts.60 That is, the Thessalonians had severed their religious, social and familial ties when they broke from their pagan past (1.9–10), and by using this term to describe himself, Paul may be reflecting that he is fully cognizant of his converts’ one-time estrangement when they embraced the good news of Jesus Christ.61 So, while it is possible to see Paul as describing the 58 For example, Marshall, Thessalonians, 85. 59 John B. Faulkenberry Miller, ‘Infants and Orphans in 1 Thessalonians: A Discussion of ἀπορφανίζω and the Text-Critical Problem in 1 Thess. 2:7’ (paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the SBL, Boston, 20 November 1999); Leon Morris, 1 and 2 Thessalonians, WBT (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1989), 82; Burke, Family Matters, 157–60. 60 John Chrysostom is also of the view that Paul describes himself as an ‘orphan’; Homilies on Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, Thessalonians, Timothy, Titus, and Philemon (NPNF1 13:334). 61 In this respect, Wayne Meeks makes the insightful observation that ‘the letter itself becomes a part of the resocialization which undertakes to substitute a new identity, new social relations, and a new set of values for those which each person has absorbed in

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experience of the Thessalonians who were hankering after him, in fact he may be the orphan yearning after his parents, the Thessalonians! Assuming such a role may indicate something of Paul’s profound pastoral sensitivity and awareness of the Thessalonians’ past as he employs an expression of himself that would have resonated with their conversion experience (cf. 1.9–10). To describe himself in this way is indeed an audacious move – an adult man living in a patriarchal world where children (much less orphans) were on the lowest rung of the social ladder in the household.62 While Paul could again be described as being inconsistent for the way he suddenly changes metaphors, it should be noted that earlier and within the same verse he shifted down (the hierarchical scale) from ‘nursing mother’ (2.7b) to ‘infant’ (2.7c). A few verses later, Paul then moves up (the hierarchical scale) to ‘father’ (2.11), only to move down again with the use of the metaphor ‘orphan’ (2.17), demonstrating that he can change tack in accordance with his purpose. To be sure, by assuming the role of ‘orphan’, Paul is (once again) putting himself in a very vulnerable position, and it is a potentially risky strategy, for he leaves himself open to exploitation and loss off respect. Paul’s pastoral strategies of power and authority at work here are difficult to determine, but the use of such a bold expression – Paul the orphan yearning to be reunited with his parents – is again a measure of how confident he is about his relationship with the Thessalonians and that his authority is not being questioned or threatened by anyone within this church-family.

3. Paul’s pastoral strategy as sibling (3.1–5; 5.12–15) a. Paul and Timothy as siblings (3.1–5) As noted, the familial expression that Paul employs most frequently in the Thessalonian correspondence is that of ‘brother/sister’ (e.g. 1 Thess. 1.4; 2 Thess. 1.3). It is well documented that Paul partnered with other colleagues during his missionary travels in establishing new churches (e.g. Phil. 1.1; 2 Cor. 1.1), including the one at Thessalonica (‘Paul, Silas and Timothy’, 1 Thess. 1.1). Indeed, Paul’s mission strategy was rarely, if ever, to work alone, independent of others. Rather, he preferred to collaborate with colleagues as he criss-crossed the ancient Mediterranean. In doing so, Paul employs a rich variety of expressions to describe his companions, including ‘apostles’ (ἀπόστολοι, 2.7) and ‘co-worker’ (συνεργός, 3.2).63 But if Paul worked alongside others in establishing new churches, he was also growing up’; Wayne A. Meeks, The Moral World of the First Christians (London:  SPCK, 1986), 126. 62 This was often symbolized by the burying of children under the foundations and at the extremities of houses in ancient times; cf. Mark Golden, ‘Did the Ancients Care When Their Children Died?’, Greece & Rome 35 (1988): 152–63, esp. 156. 63 See the seminal article of E. Earle Ellis, ‘Paul and His Co-workers’, NTS 17 (1970): 437–52.

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keenly aware of the need to partner with others in his continuing pastoral care of those communities. This was especially important when Paul was unable to return immediately to visit them, as in the case of the community at Thessalonica (2.18). In the interim and in addition to the above terms, Paul improvises by sending his trusted lieutenant, Timothy. More to the point, Paul uses another ‘co-worker’ expression by describing Timothy as ‘our brother’ (τὸν ἀδελφὸν ἡμῶν, 3.2), whom he wants to bridge the gap between himself and the church.64 Paul’s use of the personal pronoun here along with the sibling expression ‘brother’ serves the purpose of heightening ‘the emotional aspect and . . .sense of solidarity between Paul and the person named’.65 To be called a ‘brother’ means to participate in Paul’s pastoral work, and (at a difficult time) Timothy willingly collaborates as his emissary; as such, we have a good example of how siblings laboured together in a cordial manner for the good of the overall community. This was how real biological brothers of the first-century period were expected to conduct themselves, as Plutarch, Paul’s near-contemporary, states: ‘nature from one seed and source has produced a paradigm for how brothers are to live and work together (Frat. Amor. 2/478E; 15/485F-486A, emphasis added). What is more, Paul’s dispatching of Timothy is no off-the-cuff notion or haphazard idea; to the contrary, Paul has a clear pastoral purpose in mind and it is executed skilfully, as the following statement makes clear: ‘We sent Timothy our brother . . . [in order] to strengthen and encourage you in your faith’ (3.2).66 The significance of this action shows how Paul willingly and voluntarily shares some of the pastoral responsibilities and care of the church with trusted siblings in his team. Paul, who had pastored the Thessalonians and is currently unable to visit them, sends Timothy to pastor them so that they will have a stronger faith and confidence in God. One wonders why Paul does not send the more experienced Silas67; perhaps the fact that Timothy had come to faith through Paul and relates to him ‘as a son with his father’ (Phil. 2.22) is reason enough, for it describes an especially close familial bond between them. Circumstances, too, dictated this action, since Paul is unable to return now. All this means, at the very least, that Paul could not do all the work single-handedly; rather, his was a ‘collaborative ministry’ that required the assistance of other colleagues in the important and ongoing pastoral task of caring for and nurturing his communities.68 64 Ibid., 440. 65 Reidar Aasgaard, ‘My Beloved Brothers and Sisters!’:  Christian Siblingship in Paul, JSNTSup 265 (London: T&T Clark, 2004), 297. 66 The preposition with the neuter article and accompanying infinitive could be taken as result, but here it denotes purpose; see Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond Basics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996), 590–92; Abraham J. Malherbe, The Letters to the Thessalonians, AB 32B (New York: Doubleday, 2000), 191. 67 Paul’s listing of ‘Silas and Timothy’ in 1.1 would suggest the former is senior sibling to the latter. 68 Daniel J. Harrington, ‘Paul and Collaborative Ministry’, NTR 3 (1990): 62–71.

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b. The Thessalonians’ relations as siblings (5.12–15) Twice in 5.12–15, as Paul brings the paraenetic section of the letter to a close, he describes the Thessalonians as ‘siblings’.69 Paul views himself as being in solidarity with the Thessalonians, and although he is pleased with the measure of progress within the community (e.g. 4.1–2), there are clues that problems exist in the church, reason enough for Paul to want to return in order ‘to supply what is lacking in your faith’ (3.10). Timothy, having been sent to determine the Thessalonians’ progress (3.1–5), brought back a mostly favourable report. However, as noted earlier, there were some deficiencies that seem to do with sexual immorality (4.3–8), a practical work ethic (4.9–12)70 and a concern about the fate of some Christians who had died and whether they would miss out when Christ returned (4.13–18). Paul is also concerned with how the Thessalonian church is being viewed by outsiders (cf. 4.12).71 Some of these concerns converge in 5.12–15, where Paul strongly urges the church ‘to acknowledge/respect those [brothers] who work hard among you’, which must be understood against his earlier injunction to the community ‘to work with your own hands . . . so that you will not be dependent on anyone’ (4.11–12). In this regard, a number of interpreters agree that some of the brothers in the church, whom Paul describes as ‘idlers’ (ἀτάκτους, 5.14), had stopped working (for whatever reason). Those responsible were causing disruption within the community, and Paul counters the problem by issuing the imperative to ‘live in peace with each other’ (5.13; cf. 5.23).72 Closer scrutiny of these verses demonstrates that Paul addresses these concerns with a double reference to siblings, the ‘brothers and sisters’ (5.12, 14), some of whom are tasked with the responsibility of leadership in his absence. There also seems to be some differentiation among these siblings:  Paul first addresses the entire brotherhood, ‘now we ask you, brothers and sisters’ (i.e. brothers and sisters who are being led) (v. 12a), that they might ‘acknowledge those who work hard among you, who are over/care for73 you in the Lord and who admonish you’ (i.e.

69 This is followed by a threefold description of the Thessalonians as siblings in vv. 25, 26 and 27. Some of what follows is taken from Burke, ‘Paul’s New Family’, 278–86. 70 Jeffrey A. D. Weima, ‘“How You Must Walk to Please God”: Holiness and Discipleship in 1 Thessalonians’, in Patterns of Discipleship in the New Testament, ed. Richard N. Longenecker (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 98–119 (here 108). 71 John M.  G. Barclay, ‘Thessalonica and Corinth:  Social Contrasts in Pauline Christianity’, JSNT 47 (1992): 49–74, shows the differences between these two communities and their relations with outsiders. 72 Weima, Neglected Endings, 184–85, has convincingly shown how, at the end of this letter (and others), Paul recapitulates themes and concerns that were prevalent in the main body, an indication of the problems the community was facing. 73 The verb Paul uses is προΐστημι, for which BDAG 870 gives two entries: ‘(1) to exercise a position of leadership, rule, direct, be at the head (of)’, and ‘(2) to have an interest in,

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the leading brothers and sisters) (v. 12b).74 Paul then turns to the leading siblings, whom he directs ‘to warn those who are idle and disruptive’ (i.e. the brothers and sisters who are led) (v. 14a). In short, there is some degree of structure within the brotherhood. To be sure, this does not discount the need for mutual caring and exhortation within the church (παρακαλεῖτε ἀλλήλους, 4.18; 5.11), but it is clear that there are certain siblings within the church who are tasked with oversight of the entire community (all of whom are under Paul’s direction), as Alistair Campbell rightly notes on 5.12: Paul points to a group who are teaching, leading and correcting their fellow members and calls for recognition of them . . . from a very early stage in its life, perhaps a matter of a few weeks, there were those who were leaders in the church.75

This inequity between the Thessalonian brothers and sisters (in keeping with our methodology) is what we also find among real sibling relations in the first century, as evidenced by Plutarch, who writes: ‘it is impossible for them to be on equal footing in all respects’ (Frat. Amor. 12/484C). Plutarch goes further, fully cognizant of the reality among brothers that ‘the older should be solicitous about the younger and should lead them’ (Frat. Amor. 16/487B). Again, when Paul calls on the entire brotherhood ‘to respect76 those who work hard among you’ (v. 13a), his remarks resonate with the typical conventions of biological brothers of the period, where a younger sibling was charged with the responsibility ‘to honour and emulate and follow an older [brother]’ (Plutarch, Frat Amor. 16/487C; Sir. 10:19). Finally, in light of the problems concerning some within the community who had stopped working (4.9–12; 2 Thess. 3.6–12), Paul tells the leading brothers ‘to warn (νουθετέω) those who are idle and disruptive’ (5.14a), a responsibility commonly

show concern for, care for, give aid’. The context probably suggests the former, which does not preclude leading in a caring manner. 74 There is a classic example of the Granville Sharp Rule (TSKS) in this passage, where a single article (and connecting καί) modifies multiple substantives (τοὺς κοπιῶντας . . .καὶ προϊσταμένους . . . νουθετοῦντας, v.  12), which refer to the same group of people, that is, the leading siblings. For this asymmetry and emergence of a group of leaders within the community, see R. Alastair Campbell, The Elders: Seniority Within Early Christianity, SNTW (Edinburgh:  T&T Clark, 1994), 121–22; Karl P. Donfried, Paul, Thessalonica, and Early Christianity (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 2002), 155. For the view that these leaders are siblings, see, especially, Burke, ‘Paul’s New Family’, 279–86; Paul Trebilco, Self-designations and Group Identity in the New Testament (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 35–37. 75 Campbell, The Elders, 121–22. 76 The verb usually means ‘deem’ or ‘count’, but the triple intensive phrase ἡγεῖσθαι αὐτοὺς ὑπερεκπερισσοῦ is better taken as ‘to respect very highly’; George G. Milligan, The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Thessalonians (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1992), 123.

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expected of senior siblings in the first century: ‘it is fitting that the older (brother) should admonish (νουθετέω) the younger (brother)’ (Frat. Amor. 16/487B). What is most significant here, and in light of Paul’s absence, is that there are siblings in the church who now have a share with Paul in caring for and pastoring the community. To be sure, Paul still views himself as being in a more elevated position (possibly as an elder brother and certainly as their parent),77 given that he is the founder of the church and the one providing guidance and advice. Nevertheless, he does not view these leading siblings (as well as those who are led) as competitors, but as collaborators in the service of God.

4. Conclusion The question of whether Paul assumed a pastoral role towards the Thessalonian community may seem questionable, given the short duration of his stay and sudden forced eviction from the city. However, it is in these short letters that we find Paul at his most intimate, personal and relational, thereby overwhelmingly demonstrating his pastoral commitment to this fledgling church. Drawing on the cultural assumptions (Jewish and non-Jewish) of the household of Paul’s day, we have shown how he uses these in order to regulate the affairs of the church at Thessalonica. Uniquely in Thessalonians, Paul casts himself in a stunning variety of familial roles, which is striking and unparalleled but also portrays a raft of pastoral strategies at play as he regulates the affairs of this nascent community. The shifting familial images he uses of mother, father, infant, orphan and brother demonstrate that Paul can change tack in accordance with the context and the pastoral goals he has in view for the community. Most important, as an ancient personality, Paul was acutely aware that the soil in which believers grow best is community and relationship with one another, especially when that community is a ‘familylike fellowship’.78 To be sure, Paul may not use the term ‘pastor’ of himself here or anywhere else in his letters; nevertheless, the rich depiction of his roles in these letters (and elsewhere) captures something of how he understood and went about his work. Tom Wright adroitly captures Paul’s role when he comments: Paul was a pastor. He tells the Thessalonians that he had been like a nurse with them; the Galatians, that he is like a mother going into labour once more. We can safely deduce from these, as we can from 1 Corinthians . . . that Paul really was that sort of person.79

77 See Burke, ‘Paul’s New Family’, 279–80, for the view that Paul may not be portraying himself as the Thessalonians’ brother, but as their father. 78 Karl Olav Sandnes, A New Family: Conversion and Ecclesiology in the Early Church with Cross-Cultural Comparisons, Studies in the Intercultural History of Christianity 91 (Bern: Lang, 1994), 14. 79 Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, 352 (italics added).

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1. Introduction Udo Schnelle has written, ‘Paul . . . belongs to the small group of human beings of the last two thousand years whose life and thought have made lasting changes in the world.’1 This chapter will explore what I take to be an important key to understanding how Paul achieved this. That there is a pastoral dimension to Paul, as an historical figure and in his effects over ages since, is a given in this volume. It should not escape notice that Paul can be placed in many other roles. Ben Witherington demonstrated this in his book The Paul Quest, which examined Paul as a writer and rhetor, a prophet and apostle, a realist and radical, an anthropologist and advocate, a storyteller and exegete, and finally an ethicist and theologian – a dozen roles in all, none of them ‘pastor’.2 Yet if we accept the possibility of Paul or a Pauline proxy, be it pseudepigrapher or school, writing our three canonical letters that in recent centuries have been dubbed ‘pastoral’ epistles, we are justified in searching those letters for clues to the pastoral distinctives of their author, real or putative. This is in no way to call into question perhaps larger senses in which Paul’s identity is more fully captured by our term ‘missionary’, as stressed, for example, in the Peter O’Brien Festschrift entitled The Gospel to the Nations: Perspectives on Paul’s Mission, or in Eckhard Schnabel’s Paul the Missionary (dedicated to Peter O’Brien), or in Paul Barnett’s Paul: Missionary of Jesus.3 Yet the title ‘missionary’ in our day may be as different 1 Udo Schnelle, Apostle Paul: His Life and Theology, trans. M. Eugene Boring (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 598. 2 Ben Witherington III, The Paul Quest:  The Renewed Search for the Jew of Tarsus (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1998). 3 Peter Bolt and Mark Thompson, eds., The Gospel to the Nations:  Perspectives on Paul’s Mission (Leicester:  Apollos; Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 2000); Eckhard J. Schnabel, Paul the Missionary:  Realities, Strategies and Methods (Downers Grove:  IVP Academic; Leicester:  Apollos, 2008); Paul W. Barnett, Paul Missionary of Jesus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008).

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from what Paul was and did precisely as the term ‘pastor’ in today’s widely varying settings is from Paul in his various gambits and duties. Possibly no single title or role in itself can capture or exhaust Paul in his complexity, versatility and sometimes obscurity regarded two millennia since. The term he most favoured for himself seems to have been ἀπόστολος. But there was a pastoral edge to the work of that office as it unfolded in the early decades of church formation. Given Paul’s extensive teaching and preaching as ἀπόστολος, and his care of souls in ἐκκλησίαι, and the evangelism he performed everywhere he went, we are surely justified in looking to his so-called Pastoral Epistles for clues regarding his pastoral outlook. The italics in this chapter’s title point to a dimension of the Pauline pastoral style and praxis that is easily overlooked in reading Paul. Paul’s ‘open ethical secret’ (the chapter’s subtitle) is that he had a ferocious work ethic. In important respects, it distances him from those who might seek to understand him today. Let us consider three examples: academicians, ministers and students. 1. Academicians may tend to view Paul primarily in terms of ideas. Moreover, even if they note Paul’s alleged trade, many professors have little manual labour experience in their upbringing or background. Paul as a manual labourer, or artisan if one prefers, may seem an irrelevance. Most books on Paul say little or nothing about how demanding physical work may have conditioned his writings. 2. Christian ministers contain in their ranks some of the hardest-working persons on earth, I am convinced, but they have a reputation, at least in the United States, for laziness, an inordinate love of eating and other unseemly sensual excesses associated with idleness in the sense of too much time on their hands. This impression is not always unfounded stereotyping. 3. Students who study Paul in the West hail from cultures that increasingly disdain manual labor and prize good times, winning the lottery, leisure and living for the weekend, with church attendance not envisioned.4 Few professors in Bible schools or seminaries have not despaired over students who have more time for social media and online games, which are viewed not as luxury but necessity, than for their studies, which are viewed not as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity but a formality to be endured with as little intellectual expenditure as possible.

4 See, for example, Jordan Ballor, ‘The Biblical View of Work’, and Jeff Haanen, ‘How We Lost the Craftsmen’, The City VII.1 (Spring 2014), respectively 25–38, 39–45. On the negative attitude towards vocational training among German youth, see http://www.insidehighered. com/quicktakes/2014/06/16/german-students-shun-vocational-training#sthash.rtgfW7rD .dpbs (accessed 23 June 2017). For a pastoral statement on work from a developing nation perspective, see Ashish Raichur, Biblical Attitudes toward Work, rev. ed. (Karnataka: All Peoples Church & World Outreach, 2007); http://apcwo.org/publications/english-books/ finish/2-english-books/6-biblical-attitude-towards-work (accessed 23 June 2017).

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I will argue below that what the author of the Pastoral Epistles (hereafter PE) modelled and counselled in his letters to Timothy and Titus reflects an embrace of arduous labour at many levels and in many ways. The PE are a fertile resource for restoring – in the academic mind, for pastoral practice and to student expectation – a healthy regard for regular and rigorous work as an effect of the grace that the Pauline gospel announced. The PE may be plausibly regarded as Pauline for empirical reasons detailed recently by Eckhard Schnabel.5 Schnabel often updates and extends arguments advanced earlier in commentaries by scholars such as George Knight, Luke Timothy Johnson, William Mounce and Philip Towner, and in New Testament introductions such as those by Donald Guthrie, D. A. Carson and Douglas Moo, and the trio of Andreas Köstenberger, Scott Kellum and Charles Quarles. 6 In remarks below I will treat the PE as products of Paul’s hand or dictation. We will look first at work and Paul’s work ethic in each of the three PE. We will then assess some literature on this topic before offering final observations.

2. The preeminence of work in the PE Paul Barnett has rightly noted, referring to Paul’s tentmaking: It is clear that Paul’s work was physical and arduous. Paul writes of ‘labor and toil . . . we worked night and day’ (1 Thess 2:9; cf. 2 Thess 3:8; Acts 20:35) and of ‘working with our own hands’ (1 Cor 4:12; cf. Acts 20:34). We gain an impression of one whose daily life was characterized by hard physical labor, which began before sunrise.7

Yet Paul worked not only at tentmaking to sustain himself, but at ministry to glorify God. Long ago F. C. Baur observed that in Paul ‘we see . . . a spirit involved in a great struggle, in the throes of a travail which cannot be accomplished save with labour

5 Eckhard J. Schnabel, ‘Paul, Timothy, and Titus: The Assumption of a Pseudonymous Author and of Pseudonymous Recipients in the Light of Literary, Theological, and Historical Evidence’, in Do Historical Matters Matter for Faith? A  Critical Appraisal of Modern and Postmodern Approaches to Scripture, ed. James K. Hoffmeier and Dennis R. Magary (Wheaton: Crossway, 2012), 383–403. 6 Donald Guthrie, New Testament Introduction, 4th ed. (Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 1990), 607–49; D. A. Carson and Douglas J. Moo, An Introduction to the New Testament, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids:  Zondervan, 2005), 337–50, 554–68; Andreas J. Köstenberger, L. Scott Kellum and Charles L. Quarles, The Cradle, The Cross, and the Crown (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2009), 638–42. 7 Paul Barnett, ‘Tentmaking’, in DPL 926.

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and conflict and high spiritual energy’.8 It is this combination of hard physical labour for subsistence, generated by a restless spirit that could not be content with half-measures or casual effort, that we observe at every turn in the PE. In a casual perusal of the PE, I noted the fingerprints of Paul’s work ethic at twenty-nine junctures in 1 Timothy, twenty-four in 2 Timothy and fifteen in Titus, for a total of sixty-eight references. All of these passages cannot be explicated here. But we can touch on many of them in at least general terms. a. Pointers towards a work ethic in 1 Timothy Work is a primary orienting expectation for ministry in 1 Timothy. In 4.7b–10, we glimpse the epicentre of Paul’s conception of pastoral leadership as he urged it on Timothy: Train (Γύμναζε) yourself for godliness (εὐσέβειαν); for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come. The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance. For to this end we toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe.9

‘Train yourself ’ calls on Timothy to exercise diligence. A form of the same word, γυμνάζω, appears in Heb. 5.14 to describe ‘those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice’. Hebrews 12.11 speaks of ‘the peaceful fruit of righteousness’ granted ‘to those who have been trained’ – which we might translate as ‘whipped into shape’  – by divine παιδεία or discipline. Godliness (εὐσέβεια) is prominent in the PE, with ten of its fifteen New Testament occurrences found there, and eight of those in 1 Timothy. This godliness is not an automatic pastoral attribute, even for Timothy with divine gifting through the laying on of apostolic hands (2 Tim. 1.6). The grace he has received in the gospel impels him to athleticlike effort (cf. γυμνάζω) towards appropriation of a quality – hard-won godliness – that will serve him in good stead not only now but in the eschaton. Therefore Paul writes, generously including Timothy, ‘We toil and strive’ as the result of hope set on the living God. Toil is required to reach the goal of godliness. Hope in God results not in escapism or passivity awaiting the future, but in a proactive posture towards grasping godliness in ministry. This applies to Paul’s ministry as he addresses Timothy, and to Timothy’s as he fights to ‘remain at Ephesus’ (1 Tim. 1.3). As anyone with pastoral experience can attest, to ‘remain’ in a ministry where circumstances have become adverse is even more work than the pastoral task is already. Paul did not give up on Corinth, but strove diligently to salvage the gospel commitment of the believers there. He calls for the same labour-intensive steadfastness from Timothy. 8 F. C. Baur, Paul, the Apostle of Jesus Christ:  His Life and Works, His Epistles and Teachings (Peabody : Hendrickson, 2003), 2:269. 9 Bible quotations are from the ESV unless otherwise noted.

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Paul’s favoured self-designation, ἀπόστολος (1.2), implies subjugation to another – a grace that children of Adam and Eve find difficult, if not odious. One used to hear routinely in North American preaching, ‘The hardest instrument in the orchestra is second violin,’ the idea being that support roles lack glamour and therefore interested applicants.10 In our age of self-prioritization, one hears this markedly less. Ἀπόστολος was not a term of glory and prestige in Paul’s usage, like one might think of ‘bishop’ or ‘cardinal’, but one whose variegated connotations would include the idea of being a workhorse tasked with unpleasant chores (cf. 1 Cor. 4.9–13; 2 Cor. 4.7–11). In fact, Paul summarizes the apostolic burden using the participle συνεργοῦντες  – ‘working together’ with God (2 Cor. 6.1). When Paul speaks of ‘the stewardship from God’ in 1 Tim. 1.4, he casts Timothy as a worker in God’s household (cf. 3.15). Regarding 1 Tim. 1.5, the competence to exercise love in the Christian mode with pure heart, good conscience and unaffected faith requires a long apprenticeship and an occupational commitment to self-abnegation. The same is true for ‘holding faith and a good conscience’ in 1.19. The acquisition of these qualities for deployment in pastoral relationships is arduous and elusive. Pastors find themselves challenged constantly to love as they know they are called to, to live so as to keep their conscience relatively clean and to embrace the historic faith with humility, yet with a fervour that commends it to those who look to them for stability. The pastor who does not wince inwardly11 at reminders of the deeply demanding and often bruising growth process in these directions has not progressed very far in them. When Paul speaks about ‘the law’ in 1.8, he surely has in mind the Torah. Paul had spent considerable time under Gamaliel learning that law (cf. Acts 22.3) and its corollaries, as Timothy in a less formal and intense way had been instructed by his mother and grandmother (2 Tim. 1.5; 3.14–15). There can be no proper regard for God’s law in the gospel ministry of the pastorate without the labour required to understand it and the discipline acquired by striving to appropriate its lessons. A bonus here is that as one works to learn Torah, Torah teaches work as a noble human endeavour: ‘Six days you shall labor, and do all your work’ (Exod. 20.9). This is not punishment, for man was placed ‘in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it’ (Gen. 2.15). Even after the fall, humans glorify God with their lives primarily through their everyday work. Gamaliel III (early third century) commended ‘study of the Torah combined with some secular occupation, for the labor of them both puts sin out of one’s mind. All study of the Torah which is not combined with work will ultimately be futile and lead to sin’ (cf. Pirque ‘Abot 2:2).12 The law, Paul

10 The saying is kept alive in this Baptist minister’s blog:  http://greggpotts.com/2013/ 02/15/the-hardest-instrument-in-the-orchestra-to-play (accessed 26 June 2014). 11 Note, for example, the insightful remarks in Samuel Wells, ‘The banality of pastoral failure’, ChrCent 131.13 (2014): 35. 12 Barnett, ‘Tentmaking’, 925. According to http://virtualreligion.net/iho/aboth.html (accessed 6 June 2014), the Pirque ‘Abot reference should be 2:2, not 2:12 (as in Barnett, 927).

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tells Timothy, is, among other things, a measurement tool for recognizing things ‘contrary to sound doctrine’ (1 Tim. 1.10), an invaluable skill and ongoing project in pastoral labor. Paul’s work ethic did not come ex nihilo. He came to God’s διακονία (1.12), a transparent term of employment in the sense of servitude, from his zealotry as ‘a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent’ (1.13). But he received mercy (1.16). This set in motion a transformation that would shift not the zeal of Paul’s labour, but its direction. He would now apply might and main for Christ’s renown rather than for the honour of his former religion and his vain boasting in it. The glorious doxology of 1.17, that verse instrumental in Jonathan Edwards’s conversion and industrious commitment to God, segues into a metaphor designed to rally Timothy to readiness to receive Paul’s apostolic charge to him: ‘wage the good warfare’ (1.18). To read Julius Caesar’s Gallic Wars is to be reminded of the physical demand of plying Roman-era weapons and the exhausting regimen of carrying baggage and digging breastworks for encampments. Soldiering was the hardest of labours. This military metaphor, then, is a call not for violence, but for things like intensity in action, endurance of adversity, bravery in the face of intimidation and all-out effort to surmount obstacles. Chapter 2 of 1 Timothy calls twice for prayer, the most sublime of Christian activities but also one of the most demanding, mentally and physically. The dozing disciples with Jesus in Gethsemane illustrate the weakness of the flesh against the high demands of praying, here in 1 Timothy for all people, including those in high positions (2.1–2). Paul instructs Timothy to engage men in prayer rather than allowing them to languish in rancour and bickering (2.8). It is natural for men to harbour bitterness and join factions; it is hard work to find the spiritual space to replace skirmishing with supplication and other prayer forms (2.1). Around the world, I have found it rare to encounter men in church who abound in prayer, and I struggle with this myself. Not only must Timothy pray in exemplary fashion, his pastoral call is to lead others towards this challenging and elusive posture. Here, as throughout the PE, an overlooked aspect of the hard work of pastoral labour is setting high goals. Paul is not going to countenance prayer-less assemblies. To avoid this requires pastoral intentionality, action and bucking the default trend of the male demographic, which is not to reverent prayerfulness. ‘Lead a quiet and peaceful life’ in 2.2 may not sound like work, but ‘life’ translates from βίος, a word for livelihood or everyday existence. For all but the highest classes, in the Roman world that meant work. Jesus’s parable in Lk. 17.7–10 would have resonated with many, as a servant or shepherd slaves all day, prepares his master’s meal first at the end of it and doesn’t even get a thank you. Not only the ethos of ministry and godliness called for work in Paul’s outlook; the adversities of daily living in the Roman world, dramatized by what we would consider brutally brief lifespans, called forth from those in Christ a demeanour and practices that mortified the flesh and honoured God. Taken seriously, this is a mandate for toil, sanctified and potentially joyful, to be sure, but toil nonetheless. Embedded in ch. 2 is Paul’s insistent reference to his appointment as preacher, apostle and teacher of Gentiles (2.7). To sustain these roles over some three decades

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against the opposition Paul faced was a Herculean task. But he had the moral authority to stand behind his claim that he was not lying because of his faithful labour. The preaching Paul did was often under tumultuous circumstances. As an apostle, he travelled by land some 14,000 kilometres (8,700 miles) and almost that many by sea.13 That’s more than 800 kilometres (500 miles) a year for more than thirty years. Teaching often would have been difficult and perhaps even distasteful in some ways for a man steeped in Jewish scruples reaching out to subgroups who may have demonized Jews like Paul. There was innate hostility to overcome on both sides. Paul persevered, furnishing Timothy with a template for facing his own rigors at Ephesus, a place where Paul had once engaged in the enigmatic task of wrestling wild beasts (1 Cor. 15.32). Wrestling may be entertaining to watch, but Paul was not describing a leisure activity or even a spectator sport. The restraint, dedication to learning and eschatological hope called for from women in 2.9–15 are work. Qualifications for church officers (3.1–13) assume people of ambition, diligence and productivity measured by high standards will hold office; the slothful need not apply. The word translated ‘aspire’ in 3.1, ὀρέγω, bespeaks drive and striving, not tentative willingness. In 4.1–5, the work of affirming godly marriage and licit use of God’s gifts would be a constant challenge in a cultural setting of self-indulgence and anti-Christian religious myth-making (see 4.7a). Timothy’s only hope for pastoral effectiveness lies in his identity as ‘a good servant (διάκονος) of Christ Jesus, being trained in the words of the faith and of the good doctrine that [he has] followed’ (4.6). Paul describes here the outcome of years of Timothy’s learning and practice of the hard work of ministry under his tutelage. First Timothy 4.11–16 furnishes a collage of effort-images that underscores the arduousness of what Paul places before Timothy: command, teach, let no one despise, set an example, devote yourself, do not neglect your gift, practise these things, immerse yourself in them, keep a close watch on yourself, persist. The outcome is glorious: ‘by doing so you will save both yourself and your hearers’ (4.16). But just contemplating Paul’s slate of duties for Timothy leaves one weary. It would have taken divine enabling for Timothy to implement this agenda with the verve Paul demanded and had modelled for him. Thus far I  have touched on just fifteen of the twenty-nine junctures in 1 Timothy where I believe one can speak of Paul’s work ethic, whether in his own self-understanding as a servant of Christ, in his expectation for Timothy and other church workers, or both. We can survey the remaining data in rapid succession. In ch. 5 Paul again commends the hard work of self-restraint, this time in Timothy’s dealings with older men, older women and younger women. Verses 3–8 call on the church to ‘honor’ women, which is not just symbolic respect but material provision that will require congregational work to furnish. Widows’ children and grandchildren are expected to shoulder this load themselves. Self-indulgence on the part

13 Eckhard J. Schnabel, Early Christian Mission (Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 2004), 2:1288.

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of widows is condemned, while the labour of night-and-day prayer by widows is commended. Verses 9–16 continue with more commendation of working widows, and condemnation of idlers. Those who can should support widows in their own families themselves, leaving the church free to care for those who are truly needy. Chapter 5.17–21 touches the work of rule, the labour of preaching and teaching, and the prickly necessity of church discipline, a work widely abandoned in churches in our time because it requires such foresight and effort. In vv. 22–25 we note the work of discernment, moral restraint and spiritual integrity in the form of Timothy’s personal purity, dietary discipline extending to the proper use of wine and practical application of eschatological hope. Finally, ch. 6 points to Paul’s work ethic and affirmation of this ethic in others as he calls on slaves to render model service to their masters and vice versa (6.1–2), exhorts Timothy again to the work of teaching and exhorting (6.2b), commends contentment with ‘enough’ (6.8) and warns of the pitfalls of pursuing plenty (6.9– 10) rather than working for treasure that endures as Jesus called for (Mt. 6.19– 20). In 6.11–12, Timothy is summoned, with one of the rare omega-vocatives (ὦ) in the Pauline corpus, to the labour of fleeing material fixation and pursuing the fruit of gospel grace and the Spirit’s fruit.14 In 6.12–14, Timothy should ‘fight’, ‘take hold’ and ‘keep’, all words commending diligence and effort. People of means in Timothy’s congregation should ‘do good’, ‘be rich in good works’ and ‘be generous and ready to share’, not in a mechanical way as buying divine favour, but in view of the age to come, taking ‘hold of that which is truly life’ in this life (6.18–19). This involves the work of future hope but also delayed gratification, a vanishing discipline in today’s consumerist and credit-card societies. The dramatic conclusion of the epistle is a second omega-vocative, calling Timothy this time to the work of guarding the deposit and holding the line of resistance against a gnosis that has subverted the faith of those led astray (6.20). Perhaps they failed to work hard at the Christian faith and so were never really confirmed in it. b. Pointers towards a work ethic in 2 Timothy In 2 Tim. 1.3, Paul speaks of serving God and praying night and day. I have known pastors over the years who did not give the impression that they laboured intensely in prayer, and only a few of whom I am sure they did. Willingness to work, by itself, will not guarantee quality prayer, but absence of such willingness will ensure either superficial prayer or the hypocrisy of affecting intense prayer communion but not actually engaging in it. In 1.7 God gives a spirit of self-expenditure – power, love, self-control. This is a power that does not exploit others but elevates them, often at one’s own expense. That same dynamic is present in love and self-control. These are qualities that in Christ promote others, not self. Self-control, mentioned frequently in the PE,15 should be highlighted as a difficult task, one that requires work 14 Paul’s other omega-vocatives occur in Rom. 2.1, 3; 9.20; 11.33; Gal. 3.1; 1 Tim. 6.20. 15 1 Tim. 2.9, 15; 3.1; 2 Tim. 1.7; 3.3; Tit. 1.8; 2.2, 5, 6, 12.

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to exercise. The reason so many people lack it is that they fail to apply themselves to the rigors of exercising it, or perhaps even are unwilling to seek from God the resources that would make possible the necessary change of will. In 1.8 Paul writes of power from God that makes possible co-suffering for the gospel, with Timothy joining in the thankless labour of undergoing harassment or the threat of same for the gospel’s sake. We should not underestimate the steely discipline, which I suspect can only arise from a life of proactive appropriation of grace leading to habitual bodily faithfulness, that is needed to serve the gospel to the point of suffering in the Pauline sense. Mariam Ibrahim in Khartoum might qualify as a contemporary example.16 From her first arraignment, she was adamant in her Christian confession, nor did she seem to waver under the threat of lashings and execution. Such determination and steadfastness do not arise in Christian lives of lazy compliance with some easy religious scruples. Followers of Jesus whose lives mark them out for persecution and who persevere in it are modelling a focus and pattern of God-oriented selfless action that typifies the work ethic that reverberates everywhere in the PE. Paul and Timothy have been saved and called, 1.9–12 states, not because of works but for work, that is, the work of preacher-apostle-teacher. For Timothy to ‘follow’ what he hears from Paul is work, as is guarding the deposit (1.13–14). In 1.16–18 Paul commends Onesiphorus because of his work on Paul’s behalf. There are few verses in ch. 2 that do not remind us of Paul’s work ethic. In vv. 1–2, Timothy’s reception of ‘the grace that is in Christ Jesus’ will result in teaching others so compellingly that the taught will do likewise. Verses 3–7 amount to another locus classicus for our topic, as the call is to suffer (a work in reward for previous work already treated above), and this is illustrated by soldier and athlete and farmer. Timothy will fall short of his charge of disciplining and serving to the point of suffering, absent the whole-self devotion in the laborious fashion implied by this collage. Even Paul’s final flourish in v. 7 to give thought points to the labour of reflection and abiding in a posture where ‘the Lord’ is able to ‘give . . .understanding’, because Timothy is willing to be drawn further into his intense, self-mortifying role. Remembering Jesus Christ (2.9), who worked himself into the grave but was rescued from it, will help Timothy here. So will Paul’s example of enduring everything for the eventual redemption of the elect (2.10). As Timothy labours in reminding and charging the Ephesian believers, his goal is no less than to present himself to God as approved, ‘a worker who has no need to be ashamed’ (2.14–15). Such a worker will find the restraint to rescue himself from ‘irreverent babble’

16 In 2014, this Sudanese Christian physician was arrested and charged with adultery for being married to a Christian man. Though her (Muslim) father had deserted the family when she was a girl, and she was reared as a Christian by her mother, Islamic courts determined that by their law she should receive 200 lashes and then be put to death by hanging unless she returned to her father’s religion. She refused. Eventually she was allowed to leave Sudan and be united with her husband in the United States.

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(2.16; cf. 2.23). He will experience ongoing cleansing, set apart, ready for every good work (2.20–21). He will be inclined to flee youthful ἐπιθυμίαι and to pursue faith, love and peace along with others of pure heart (2.22). The chapter closes with a portrait of the daily pastoral labour of ‘the Lord’s servant (δοῦλος)’, a fourfold mandate of kindness to everyone, teaching, enduring evil and correcting opponents, not harshly or triumphalistically, but humbly (2.24–26). Here the hardest work for Timothy might have been in overcoming the temptation to quit putting up with the bother and to return some of that evil with justly deserved retaliatory ministry. How many ministers preach sermons that are engineered to ‘give it to’ certain people in the congregation? In ch. 3, vv. 1–9 depict a zeitgeist of indulgent self-seeking rather than labouring for God’s kingdom. Verses 10–11 praise Timothy’s diligence thus far in endorsement by emulating Paul’s life of aggressive engagement of gospel entailments, going all the way back to the first missionary journey. This yielded a legacy of labour, but also of the Lord’s deliverance. Bearing Paul’s precedent in mind, Timothy can ‘continue’ (cf. μένω) in his doctrinal and scriptural understanding (3.14–16). This will conduce to the ‘good work’ (3.17) on which the PE, like Christ in the Gospels, place such a high premium. In ch. 4 we find a charge with the ultimate incentive to get and stay busy – the presence of God and his Son (4.1). Specific foci of pastoral labour are cited: preach, be ready, reprove, exhort, exercise patience, instruct (4.2). Verse 5 summarizes action items, including ‘the work of an evangelist’. Verses 6–8 point to Paul’s ongoing work of carrying on, clinging to the favourable outcome that awaits. Verse 17 underscores the Lord’s work in supporting Paul that he might complete his work. In v. 21 Timothy is entrusted with assignments – work. But there is hope (v. 18), in that ‘the Lord will rescue . . . from every evil work (ἔργον)’ (my translation). One reason Paul insists on a life that is work-rich is that Christians are called to return evil with good (Rom. 12.17; 1 Thess. 5.15), and it seems the devil and his bunch never slumber. Against the demonic onslaught of evil deeds abounding in this fallen world, God juxtaposes a plethora of good works of the saints. No saint abounds in good works without a work ethic that generates selfless labour. c. Pointers towards a work ethic in Titus Paul’s epistle to Titus shows that his emphasis on theologically grounded pastoral labour, intensive and extensive, in 1–2 Timothy is not an aberration. This emphasis continues in Titus. Paul greets Titus not only as an ἀπόστολος, but first of all as a δοῦλος, underscoring service for the sake of others at the behest of someone else. If Paul calls Titus to selfless labour for Christ’s sake, it will only be what Paul practices himself. Titus 1.3 speaks of Paul’s preaching, a body of work of which we have only sketches in Acts. Even that is enough to be reminded how arduously Paul laboured to further the message entrusted to him. Analogous to Paul’s mandate, Titus receives one now (v. 5): set things in order and appoint elders, not any old way, but as Paul has directed. The qualifications for these elders comprise a character sketch of an engaged, self-sacrificial congregational servant leader (vv.

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6–9). The picture is also of a person willing to go to great lengths in the study of Christian doctrine so that he may teach it, and the costly appropriation of gospel graces such that descriptors will apply to him, not ‘arrogant or quick-tempered or a drunkard or violent or greedy for gain, but hospitable, a lover of good, selfcontrolled, upright, holy, and disciplined’ (vv. 7–8). In contrast, vv. 10–14 give a portrait of lack of restraint, laziness and opportunism, markers of either no work ethic or a diabolical one. Verses 15–16 detail the unsavoury character of figures who are significantly ‘unfit for any good work’. For his part, Titus in 2.1 and 2.15 is told to be on continual watch for opportunities to turn people in right direction by his habits of discourse. Translations say ‘teach’, but the verb is the imperative of λαλέω, better understood as Titus’s speech in all his pastoral and other interpersonal dealings. Chapter 2.2–10 affirms that all subgroups in the church, including Titus himself, should model godly discipline and zeal for what is right. This will enable them to ‘adorn the doctrine of God our Savior’, living lives that, by their comprehensive attention to honouring God and suppressing the godless impulses of Cretan normalcy, make a statement by their discipline and effort of good works. Titus 2.11–14 underscores that God’s grace ‘trains’ recipients to transformational, God-directed effort, with the end game again being ‘good works’. Verse 15 is a précis of the pastoral labour agendum: exhort, rebuke, stand tall in the industrious pastoral role. Titus 3.1–3 details more pastoral labour, with a view to good work in light of an indolent and errant past, which all are guilty of having. Remarkable is the attitude change implied in v. 3 that calls for frank admission that, however despicable people around them may be, Christians at some point were no better. This opens the way for vv. 4–8 with their commendation of divine grace and direction for Titus to press these matters so believers ‘may be careful to devote themselves to good works’ (v. 8). Verses 9–10 touch on the work of church discipline. Finally, in 3.12–14 Titus is called to various duties, as are the Cretan believers, who need to ‘devote themselves to good works, so as to help the cases of urgent need, and not be unfruitful’ (v. 14).

3. Paul as worker: Contemporary discussion In recent times, important discussion of Paul’s manual labor goes back to various publications of Ronald Hock. An example is his 1978 Journal of Biblical Literature article, ‘Paul’s Tentmaking and the Problem of His Social Class’.17 Hock argued that Adolf Deissmann was right to surmise that Paul’s tentmaking was significant in determining his social class. But whereas Deissmann viewed Paul as a laborer who embraced his trade, Hock follows William Ramsay in suggesting that Paul was aristocratic in outlook.18 He carried out his manual labor, we might

17 Ronald Hock, ‘Paul’s Tentmaking and the Problem of His Social Class’, JBL 97 (1978): 555–64. 18 Ibid., 564.

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say, holding his nose. ‘Paul’s choice of language to refer to his work reflects not the attitude of the typical artisan, as Deissmann would have us believe, or of the working rabbi who was taught to “love labor”,19 as many scholars would lead us to expect, but rather the snobbish and scornful attitude so typical of upper class Greeks and Romans.’20 In a 2007 article in Currents in Mission and Theology,21 Joel Lohr largely accepts Hock’s portrait of Paul’s low view of work, but argues that Paul did it for strategic reasons. First, by tentmaking, he could ‘identify with the lowly and . . . exhort the socially elite to do the same’. Second, Paul viewed this as a form of imitating Christ. Finally, ‘Paul’s refusal of financial support proves to be his solution to possible obligatory relationships in Corinth and aids his overall objective, to remove divisions and unify the body there.’22 Hock’s view was called into question, however, in a 2006 Journal of Biblical Literature article by Todd Still.23 Still notes that Hock immerses Paul too exclusively in a Hellenistic setting. When Jewish sources and a wider range of New Testament texts are considered, a different picture emerges. So Still objects to Hock’s portrait, presents a Paul less negative towards manual labour and labourers, and concludes: A final, if unintentional, implication of Hock’s ascribing to Paul a snobbish attitude toward his trade is that it portrays the apostle as a deeply conflicted and decidedly hypocritical individual. On Hock’s reading, even as Paul enjoined his converts to lead a life of humility as graphically exhibited by Christ and himself (see esp. 2 Cor 11:7; Phil 2:3, 8), he harbored an aristocratic hubris against manual labor and, by extension, manual laborers. As it happens, the Paul that Hock gives us is not so much a servant at work as a snob toward work; he is not so much an apostle who condescends as a condescending apostle.24

In my view, overall Still gets the better of this interchange. We should not romanticize the hard and dirty work that Paul’s tentmaking or leatherworking or both involved. But neither should we ascribe to Paul a calculating cynicism or deep hidden resentment towards such labour. The Paul who speaks so much of labour in serving Christ in the PE comports well with the Paul who applied to ministry the same hard-nosed work ethic that would have been necessary to survive as an artisan in that social setting.

19 Hock’s reference here is to Pirque ‘Abot 1:10. 20 Hock, ‘Paul’s Tentmaking’, 562. 21 Joel N. Lohr, ‘He Identified with the Lowly and Became a Slave to All:  Paul’s Tentmaking as a Strategy for Mission’, CurTM 34 (2007): 179–87. 22 Quotes in this and preceding sentences from Lohr, ‘Paul’s Tentmaking’, 179. 23 Todd D. Still, ‘Did Paul Loathe Manual Labor? Revisiting the Work of Ronald F. Hock on the Apostle’s Tentmaking and Social Class’, JBL 125 (2006): 781–95. 24 Ibid., 793.

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4. Concluding observations In a critical climate where the PE are largely isolated from the historical Paul, any work ethic teased out of their rhetoric is just as fictive as the rest of the PE. In many circles today, however, warrant for viewing the PE as pseudonymous or allonymous is felt to be unconvincing. Late in Paul’s life, if that is the right setting for the PE, the Paul of the gospel of grace is adamant regarding the necessity of arduous human labour for the body of Christ to realize its potential, especially insofar as its leaders are concerned. Three observations may be offered in conclusion. I will apply them to the hypothetical academician, pastor and student, respectively, mentioned in the introduction of this chapter. a. The Academician Paul’s work ethic in the PE calls for methodological repentance. Since at least F. C. Baur, Paul has been read as an idealist philosopher. The essence of his message is the idea. The question has only been which ideas. Baur thought Kantian and Hegelian ones, ideas forming themselves inexorably in Paul’s psyche and manifesting themselves in his epistles as Hegel’s God, called Geist, manifests itself in historical phenomena. Paul’s theology is all about human consciousness, not God and Christ and revealed Scripture and truth and commandments in any cognitively knowable ways. Baur wrote of ‘faith, love, and hope as the three momenta of Christian consciousness’.25 For Baur, these are all abstractions.26 Bultmann followed suit, changing the substance of that consciousness from Baur’s idealism to one in step with Heidegger. Schnelle in our time analyzes Paul not for the fides quae and its historical basis in his accepted letters and the empirical grounds for this faith, but for ‘the Pauline dynamic of meaning formation’.27 To Schnelle’s credit, he recognizes that Paul writes of God, not human consciousness. But that is a ‘symbolic world’ God. Human consciousness gets smuggled back in as freedom becomes the holy grail of the human quest.28 For Paul, was it not the glory of God? In Schnelle, love becomes ‘the ground of all being’.29 For Paul, if we speak in such terms, that ground would be the God who created all things, not some feeling associated with God. For Schnelle, Paul, not Christ, ‘was and is the

25 Baur, Paul, the Apostle of Jesus Christ, 2:228. 26 For a fascinating hypothesis regarding Baur’s outlook, see Corneliu C. Simut, F. C. Baur’s Synthesis of Böhme and Hegel: Redefining Christian Theology as a Gnostic Philosophy of Religion (Leiden: Brill, 2015). Simut’s thesis helps explain why Baur moves so effortlessly from statements of biblical writers based (they argue) on observed events and remembered speech to timeless ideals and states of consciousness. 27 Schnelle, Apostle Paul, 598. 28 This was true for Baur, too: Paul, the Apostle of Jesus Christ, 2:272. 29 Schnelle, Apostle Paul, 603.

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standard-bearer of this conception’ of the love at being’s ground.30 But Paul’s gospel was not a conception, and he was an apostle, not a conceiver of conceptions that he felt would be salvific. He preached not himself or his ideas, but Christ crucified (1 Cor. 1.23). As Gary Dorrien has shown, mainstream Protestant thought since the Enlightenment and still today harks to Kant, Schelling, Hegel and Schleiermacher, not to biblical writers.31 This has a pervasive effect in biblical studies. For example, in his recent book on the virgin birth, Andrew Lincoln makes it clear that Schleiermacher is decisive on proper regard for biblical affirmations, including those pertaining to Jesus’s parentage.32 This vests more confidence in idealist hermeneutics than may be warranted. It is common for biblical scholars to assume idealist outlooks without naming the philosophers who bequeathed them to postChristian academic thought.33 The distance between the working apostle-pastor of the PE and Baur’s ‘apostle’ who ‘recognized no other principle as having authority for him but his own immediate self-consciousness’34 is too vast to try to bridge here. I commend it as a project worth pursuing for restoring a Paul in biblical studies whose Christ is larger than some post-Kantian philosophical traditions allow. b. The Pastor Paul’s work ethic in the PE may solve for the pastor what we might term the Schnabel enigma. In his book Paul the Missionary, Eckhard Schnabel notes that twelve reasons have been advanced for the success of the early church’s missionary outreach – success in the sense that the church arose and survived and still exists.35 The enigma is that none of these twelve ‘historical’ explanations, or any combination of them, suffices to explain the persistence of the Christian faith and believing communities.36 Schnabel rightly points to Paul’s belief in the power of God 30 Ibid. 31 Gary Dorrien, Kantian Reason and Hegelian Spirit:  The Idealistic Logic of Modern Theology (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012); see my review in Them 37.3 (2012): 552–56. 32 Andrew T. Lincoln, Born of a Virgin? Reconceiving Jesus in the Bible, Tradition, and Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 239. 33 See, for example, Ulrich Wilckens, Kritik der Bibelkritik (Neukirchener: Neukirchener Theologie, 2012), 27–60, for a summary of how philosophical considerations, not historical or empirical ones, exerted undue influence in German biblical studies, with results persisting to the present. 34 Baur, Paul, the Apostle of Jesus Christ, 272. 35 Schnabel, Paul the Missionary, esp. 360–73. 36 There twelve factors are: (1) ‘the generally favorable conditions of the Pax Romana’; (2) ‘the rational critique of polytheism by Platonist and Stoic philosophers’; (3) ‘the disintegration of the Greek city-state’; (4) ‘the Hellenistic ruler cult’, which ‘introduced the concept of a god-man’; (5) ‘the decline of pagan religiosity, especially in the third century a.d.’; (6) the effectiveness of the church in addressing ‘status inconsistency’; (7) ‘the feelings of

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for gospel advancement,37 not immanent material or ideological factors or forces. Paul’s prayer was key to actualizing this power. But what pastor doesn’t believe in God’s power and answered prayer? Yet most of us still wish to see in our churches more of Paul’s missionary effectiveness. The elephant in the room is what the power of God looks like when it gets hold of his people. Yes, in response they pray. But from the PE, we could argue that God’s power and people’s prayer are presuppositions for Timothy and Titus in their leadership roles. Given these, now they must execute. They must act, work, preach, teach, evangelize, mediate, challenge, rebuke, discern, guard, exercise restraint, suffer and embrace myriad other tasks and dispositions that the gospel calling effects in them. And their active zeal can, and by God’s grace may well, mobilize others to similarly activated lives. In a word, Paul as pastor in the PE reinforces in pastors not the sufficiency of human effort for gospel flourishing, but the necessity of that effort. Is it possible that Protestant disdain for the high view of works in Catholic and liberal churches tempts evangelical leaders to underestimate the power of God and prayer to incite God’s people not only to deep piety but also to hard labour in expression of that piety? Does well-meaning emphasis on sola gratia fail to convey the cost of discipleship in Western social settings that prize leisure and self-fulfillment, while disdaining hard work and hardship and self-abnegation? Many such questions could be posed. c. The Student Many theological students work hard and effectively. Others work hard and ineffectively. Some fail to work. Many struggle with the relationship between grace and works and the place of work in their communion with God and in their present vocation as students. Nothing I  say in this chapter should be construed as advocating a thoughtless activism, workaholism or other form of barren busyness. I do fear that a culture of self-indulging idolatries, and other factors such as increasingly compromised Western educational systems, blind many students to the work ethic assumed by apostolic writers and, for that matter, modelled in Jesus’s life, as Klaus Issler has recently pointed out.38 It would require another essay to reflect on the forms this takes and how to address it. But many of us in our preaching and pedagogy, and a few of us in our publications, probably need to.

anxiety, insecurity, and helplessness’ that the Christian message alleviated; (8) ‘the Christian view of life after death’; (9)  ‘miracles and exorcisms’; (10) ‘the courage of the Christian martyrs’; (11) ‘the ideal of brotherly love and the praxis of Christian charity’; and (12) ‘the historical foundation of the Christian faith’. Schnabel points out the inadequacy of any (or any combination) of these theories in providing an adequate explanation for the success of the missionary movement set in motion by Paul. 37 Schnabel, Paul the Missionary, 371–73. 38 Cf. Klaus Issler, ‘Exploring the Pervasive References to Work in Jesus’ Parables’, JETS 57 (2014): 323–39.

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I close with two inspirational images in this direction, both from sport – an irony, I realize, since sport can be precisely one of those idolatries that detracts from kingdom focus and labour. Yet it can also offer useful lessons. One is in a recent Gatorade advert.39 The US National Basketball League superstar Dwyane Wade is pictured in workout garb swigging a litre of orange elixir. Perspiration stains the back of his grey sleeveless jersey. On second look, one realizes the sweat stain forms an outline of the NBA championship trophy.40 The caption: ‘Sweat says it all.’ I don’t want to say that is the message of the PE. But I do want to say that it is a valid application of the message which may be foreign to some students, pastors and academicians. Another image, this one a word picture. Tony Gwynn, a great African-American baseball player, died recently. He was only fifty-four. Oral cancer, probably from chewing tobacco, felled him. New York Times reporter Tyler Kepner wrote an obituary of sorts headlined ‘In a .338 Lifetime Average, Every Day Counted’, with this subhead: ‘Tony Gwynn’s 2 Hitting Secrets: Work and More Work.’41 Kepner notes that many scoffed at Gwynn’s intensity and rah-rah approach as being melodrama and overkill. ‘In 1994, while on his way to the fifth of his eight National League batting crowns, [Gwynn] spoke passionately about the attitude of the modern player.’ ‘They just feel like stuff is supposed to happen to them,’ he said. ‘They’re not going to have to work for it. And that bugs me because I know how hard I had to work to get where I got. Sometimes they sit there in amazement at why I come out here every day [to practise]. But I cannot let their way of thinking into my head.’

The reporter concludes, ‘For Gwynn, the thrill was in the pursuit of perfection in a job built around failure.’ The greatest-ever Major League baseball hitters, you see, fail two-thirds of the time. Gwynn was an all-time great – hitting just 33.8 per cent of the time. A central proponent of what Leon Morris called ‘the apostolic preaching of the cross’ was going to encounter a lot of failure.42 Paul did, yet he seems largely to have fulfilled God’s will for him by grace. But it was also by the pursuit of Christ’s perfection with a habit, an ethic, of Major League–level work.

39 See the inside back cover of Sports Illustrated, 30 June 2014. 40 Another version of the same ad features Serena Williams. Her sweat-stained shirt reveals the Wimbledon trophy silhouette. 41 See https://www.nytimes.com/2014/06/17/sports/baseball/tony-gwynns-2-hittingsecrets-work-and-more-work.html?mcubz=0 (accessed 29 June 2017). 42 Cf. Leon Morris’s book with that title, The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965).

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Chapter 12 T H E P A ST O R A L O F F IC E S I N T H E P A ST O R A L E P I S T L E S A N D T H E C H U R C H O F E N G L A N D’ S F I R ST O R D I NA L Tim Patrick

Together, Paul’s two letters to Timothy and his letter to Titus offer some of the apostle’s richest and most direct teaching on the nature and works of the Christian pastoral ministry.1 Indeed, that this is their focus is well known and indicated by their collective common reference, the Pastoral Epistles (hereafter ‘PE’).2 Given this, interacting with all that the PE say about pastoring or the pastoral ministry is well beyond the scope of any single chapter – to attempt to do so would necessarily result in a cursory and unsatisfying overview of so much that these letters contain. It has been decided instead to use the first part of this chapter to explore which formal offices of pastoral ministry Paul thought ought to exist within local churches. Focusing on this issue will, on the one hand, helpfully narrow the primary texts for consideration to those few passages of the PE that directly engage the issues of leadership selection and regulation. On the other hand, it will also require the scope of the investigation to be expanded beyond the PE so as to interact with relevant passages from Paul’s other letters, as well as some texts from across the New Testament. It must be noted that in choosing to explore Paul’s teaching on the offices of church leadership, issues relating to the required character and activities of church leaders will not be given the attention that would result from a more balanced, inductive reading of the PE. The intention in this is not to minimize what was obviously of most importance to the apostle, but rather to keep a tight focus on the chosen ecclesiological question. The majority of the first part of the chapter will retread ground that has already been well covered in many places. Its novel contribution comes in regard to the relationship of the roles of overseer and deacon, with an exegetical case being made from 1 Tim. 3.1–13 that the two differ chiefly in seniority. 1 The Pauline authorship of these letters will be assumed, not argued for, in this chapter. 2 See Donald Guthrie, The Pastoral Epistles, 2nd ed., TNTC 14 (Leicester:  InterVarsity Press, 1990), 17–18, for a good overview of the origin of this language.

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The second part of this chapter is an historical case study. It considers the pastoral offices of the Anglican Communion from the time of the English Reformation compared with the Pauline ideals identified in Part 1. Here, too, a fresh contribution is made by assessing the Anglican offices of ministry in light of the major sources of the denomination’s Ordinal. Given what will be suggested with regard to the diaconate in the first part, the reader might understandably infer that the author has been overly biased in his exegesis by his own ecclesiastical traditions and sympathies. While such a charge must never be quickly dismissed – we are all products of our contexts – the hope is that the priority given to the biblical witness is plain. The reconsideration of the Anglican ‘threefold order’ as it is commonly understood should also confirm this commitment.

1. The offices of ministry in Paul a. The question of formal offices The basic assumption that the PE – and especially 1 Tim. 3.1–13 and Tit. 1.5–9 – establish formal offices for the churches at Ephesus and Crete, and thereby lay out the apostolic ideal for all communities of faith, is not uncontested. The high value placed on charismatic leadership by Paul in his other writings has been taken as good evidence that, unlike Old Testament Israel, the church of Christ is meant to be a Spirit-led, fully egalitarian and free association, without hierarchy or formal structure.3 Certainly the rigid, ‘monepiscopal’ model of church leadership promoted by Ignatius in the early second century is now widely recognized by evangelical scholars as being at odds with what Paul prescribes in the PE, and it cannot be fruitfully used as a lens for understanding the apostle’s teaching on church order. While higher authorities may have been recognized, the picture of an allpowerful bishop overseeing the elders and leaders of local churches is foreign to the teaching of the New Testament. Nonetheless, it is equally at odds with the PE to suggest that Paul has no interest whatsoever in ordered leadership offices for local Christian congregations. Rather, the apostle presents a balanced understanding of the churches having a life that is both spontaneously organic and pneumatic, and at the same time formally ordered, with select individuals occupying defined leadership positions. And yet, while he gives priority to the careful discernment of those leaders and outlines general instructions as to their broad responsibilities, he does not develop any elaborate or rigid institutional structure or show any

3 For helpful summaries of the academic discussion, see I. Howard Marshall, The Pastoral Epistles, ICC (London:  T&T Clark, 1999), 512–21, and Herman N. Ridderbos, Paul: An Outline of His Theology (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 1975), 439–40. Marshall, 176, puts it well: ‘It has become increasingly clear that the distinction sometimes drawn between an earlier charismatic ministry and a later institutional system of “office” is inappropriate and should be dropped from the discussion.’

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interest in proposing an ecclesiastical framework that relationally isolates leaders or enables the significant service of other church members to be discouraged or devalued. Therefore, although this chapter focuses on what are dubbed the ‘formal offices’ of the local church, this language is not in any way meant to support a stiff, hierarchical, Roman Catholic view of ecclesial leadership, but instead is always intended to be understood in line with the softer, more balanced view.4 b. The Old Testament priesthood5 In addition to affirming that Paul did indeed endorse some formal structure for the churches under his care, albeit a minimal one, it is also useful to underscore that the leadership he envisioned was not a renewed version of the Old Testament priesthood. That priesthood was primarily mediatorial, with the priests standing between the people and God, performing those tasks and rituals that served to bridge the gap.6 The priests oversaw the sacrifices, made the offerings in the tabernacle and temple and monitored ritual cleanliness. Their function was to ensure that a holy God could dwell in the presence of a sinful nation, and vice versa. Their responsibilities were not built around teaching roles, nor were they given particular authority to enforce doctrinal standards, establish ordered worship or settle disputes. These duties fell to the prophets and kings of Israel, and before them the judges and Moses. There is a continued recognition of Israel’s priests (ἱερεῖς) in the New Testament, but their roles all belong to the old ordering of God’s people, not to Christ’s church.7 So, while Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, and the priest of Mk 1.44 (Mt. 8.4; Lk. 5.14; cf. 17.14) are not cast negatively, neither are they presented as leaders within the nascent church. The New Testament recognizes only two ways in which the mediatorial function of the Israelite priesthood is ongoing for Christ’s people. First, Heb. 7–10 strongly argues that Christ himself is the great high priest and sole mediator for all who would come to the Father. As such, he supersedes the Old Testament priesthood and makes it redundant for his people. Second, the followers of Christ are also described as a holy and royal priesthood in 1 Pet. 2.5 and 9, and in Rev. 1.6 and 5.10. In the first of the Petrine verses, Jesus’s followers are paralleled with the Old Testament priesthood as those who offer sacrifices to God. The difference is that the latter offered animals, whereas the former ‘offer[ed] spiritual sacrifices 4 See Paul Trebilco, The Early Christians in Ephesus from Paul to Ignatius (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 2004), 446 n.3, for the use of the term ‘office’, and 461–67 for the PE’s view of institutionalization. Perhaps William Mounce strikes the right note, suggesting that in the PE, Paul provides for ‘a slight form of institutionalism’; William D. Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, WBC 46 (Nashville:  Thomas Nelson, 2000), 187 (italics added). See also Mounce, 164–65, and Ridderbos, Paul, 474–78. 5 Writing from a Catholic perspective, Albert Vanhoye, Old Testament Priests and the New Priest (Petersham: St Bede’s, 1986), is helpful on this topic. 6 Ibid., 31–34. 7 Acts 14.13 also recognizes ‘a priest of Zeus’.

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acceptable to God through Jesus Christ’, and there is no sense that those acceptable spiritual sacrifices had the propitiatory function of their precursors.8 The second Petrine reference does highlight the mediatorial role of the priesthood, but rather than being a role carried out for the people of God by a select group drawn from their number, here it is carried out by all of God’s people for the sake of those who are not.9 That is, the church at large executes a priestly function by ‘proclaiming the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light’ ‘for those who do not believe’.10 In the two Revelation texts, the duties incumbent upon the members of the priesthood are not detailed, but it is clear that it is again the whole company of ransomed saints who are priests, not just a select leadership group. The final application of priesthood language to Christian believers in the New Testament is found in Rev. 20.6. Here, once more, even though it is the beheaded martyrs who are most on view (v. 4), it appears as though it is the entire number of Christian believers  – ‘those who share in the first resurrection’, over whom ‘the second death has no power’ – who are counted among the priesthood. Their role as priests is unclear, but they are described as sharing in the millennial reign of Christ. Irrespective of the exact meaning of this passage, it accords with the rest of the New Testament texts in not using the Old Testament priesthood as a paradigm for a mediatorial subgroup within the local Christian church, nor for a leadership body, as indeed the priests were not the leaders of Old Testament Israel.11 c. The offices endorsed by Paul Having established that Paul did provide for offices of leadership within the church and that these were not reflective of the Old Testament priesthood, it is necessary to determine which pastoral offices he acknowledged. Rather than beginning with the PE, it will be helpful to first give brief consideration to Eph. 4.11–13, if only to exclude these verses from what will follow.12 Here, the apostle documents what Christ has given to the church by way of people who will serve to build up the wider body of believers, and it is important to note that the text does not indicate that they are all to serve in local leadership roles.13 In fact, the inclusion of apostles and evangelists in the list immediately precludes the view that Paul is here particularly concerned with the internal ordering of local congregations, as, by definition, some aspects of service in those two capacities occur outside of the 8 Vanhoye, Old Testament Priests, 269–72. 9 Ibid., 261–62, following Luther, emphasizes the corporate nature of this priesthood. 10 Contra Ibid., 257. 11 Ibid., xii; Ridderbos, Paul, 481, cf. 440–41. 12 See Peter Orr’s chapter in the present volume for a careful consideration of the relationship between ‘pastors’ and ‘teachers’ in v. 11. 13 I am unconvinced that the people listed in v. 11 are the referent of the ‘gift’ in v. 7 and therefore find the inclusion of the word ‘gifts’ in v. 11 in some English Bible translations potentially misleading on this point.

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church gathering.14 Additionally, because the fuller pericope envisions the people mentioned serving in the context of, and in order to further, every member of the church cooperating for the maturation of the whole, it seems that that Paul is setting them within, not over, the wider church membership. In short, Eph. 4 does not provide a catalogue of the different types of local church leaders. Among those on Paul’s list, the only potential candidates for such formal positions are the pastors and teachers, but this text does nothing to establish or confirm the office or place of those people within any local structure. As anticipated above, it is in the PE that Paul’s view of the offices of leadership in the church is most clearly presented. In 1 Tim. 3.1–13, Paul lays out his requirements for the positions of an ἐπίσκοπος and the διάκονοι, and in Tit. 1.5–9, he details what is necessary for those who would be πρεσβύτεροι. Again, rather than exploring the particular requirements in detail, the point being made is simply that, as far as Paul was concerned, such offices indeed ought to exist in local churches. That they were to be at the very least semiformal is indicated by the fact that aspirants needed to be tested (1 Tim. 3.10) and appointed (Tit. 1.5; cf. Acts 14.23). There is no sense in these passages of a casual or self-sanctioning local church leadership. Rather, some kind of recognized process of deliberation and authorization is on view. However, before quickly proceeding to affirm that Paul recognized three offices of leadership in the PE, two important issues must be explored. The first has to do with Paul’s broad usage of διάκονος and related terms. The second has to do with the overlap between πρεσβύτεροι and ἐπίσκοποι. Each will be taken in turn. Across his letters, Paul uses διακον words quite liberally and without a single, narrow or wholly consistent reference.15 So, while he may have given Phoebe, Tychicus, Ephaphras and Timothy the formal label ‘deacon’ because they held similar offices in the early church, he could not have been using the term in the same way for the secular authority, Jesus, Apollos, the ‘super apostles’, himself (seven times) or Satan’s servants, whom he also describes as διάκονοι.16 Clearly, there are 14 Benjamin L. Merkle, ‘Paul’s Ecclesiology’, in Paul’s Missionary Methods: In His Time and Ours, ed. Robert L. Plummer and John Mark Terry (Leicester: InterVarsity Press, 2012), 65 n.21. Of the apostles, Marshall, Pastoral Epistles, 172, says that ‘the Pauline concept of the apostolic missionaries [is of] a body of people charged with the creation, establishment and ongoing care of local congregations but who remained essentially separate from them’. 15 The fullest study of Paul’s use of διακον language is by John N. Collins, Diakonia: Reinterpreting the Ancient Sources (Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 1990), although he gives surprisingly little space to a discussion of the formal offices in the PE. Collins does, however, consider those offices in relation to ‘ministry’ in his follow-up volume, Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), ch. 7. 16 Rom. 13.4, 15.8, 16.1; 1 Cor. 3.5; 2 Cor. 3.6, 6.4, 11.15, 11.23; Eph. 3.7, 6.21; Col. 1.7, 23, 25, 4.7; 1 Tim. 4.6. If the argument of this chapter with regard to the office of deacon is accepted, it becomes difficult to suggest that either Timothy or Epaphras filled the role at the times when Paul refers to them as deacons. If it could be proven that Phoebe was a member of the order of deacons as it is understood in this chapter, it could be inferred

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times when the word is used quite generally to describe those serving in a range of capacities, rather than to badge a formal office holder.17 It is also true, however, that in Phil. 1.1 and 1 Tim. 3.8, 12, Paul does use plural forms of the term διάκονος where no identifiable individuals are on view, but rather when he is discussing what plainly appears to be a leadership station. Clearly, there is a spectrum of use for the διακον word group, and it would therefore be equally mistaken to suggest that it is only ever, or otherwise never, used of a formal position in the early church. Perhaps adding unnecessary confusion to the task of confirming the existence and nature of the Diaconate is the common notion that those recorded to have been commissioned by the apostles to distribute food in Acts 6.1–6 were thereby recognized as deacons in some formal sense.18 While it is true that the seven were appointed to διακονεῖν tables (vv. 2–3), it is also true that the apostles devoted themselves to prayer and to the διακονία of the word (v. 4). That is, the language of this Lucan passage gives no direct reason to identify the seven as deacons any more than the twelve.19 Both groups would serve, just on different tasks. The text does record that the seven were deliberately set aside and did have hands laid upon them as they took up their duties, and this suggests some kind of formalized role in the church community (cf. 1 Tim. 4.14). But it is still unclear from the text whether the role would have carried the title ‘deacon’ or was anything like the one that Paul discusses in 1 Tim. 3.8–13.20

that Paul envisaged female overseers in the local churches. While this possibility would need careful consideration, it would probably be hard to arrive at a definitive answer, and it would then take another step to conclude that Phoebe had an episcopal ministry to men as well as women. Given that Paul may well have anticipated a plurality of overseers for each local church, a female overseer may have had a gender-specific role among them. The identity and roles of the women in 1 Tim. 3.11 may need to be explored as part of a study into this question. 17 Collins, Diakonia, chs 11–12, argues that Paul used the term ‘deacon’ not for a formal office-holder, but with a well-known and specific meaning: someone who was an authorized messenger and/or representative. Andrew Clarke, however, feels that Collins’s study underplays the identification of a deacon as a menial servant; Andrew D. Clarke, A Pauline Theology of Church Leadership, LNTS 362 (London: T&T Clark, 2008), 66. 18 For example, Steven Croft, Ministry in Three Dimensions, new ed. (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 2008), 48–51; George W. Knight, The Pastoral Epistles, NIGTC (Grand Rapids:  Eerdmans, 1992), 175; Marshall, Pastoral Epistles, 172–74; Merkle, Paul’s Ecclesiology, 68–69; Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 159, cf. 163. Cf. A. M. Farrer, ‘The Ministry in the New Testament’, in The Apostolic Ministry, ed. Kenneth E. Kirk (London:  Hodder & Stoughton, 1946), 150, who actually suggests that the seven were set aside as overseers. 19 Marshall, Pastoral Epistles, 487. 20 Collins, Studies, ch. 10, offers an alternative argument that the seven were commissioned as teachers for the Greek-speaking widows of the Jerusalem church. While this solution leaves some problems unaddressed – such as the relationship between overseers and

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When considering the overlap between πρεσβύτεροι and ἐπίσκοποι, several points must be flagged. First, it appears that in the New Testament, πρεσβύτερος regularly refers to either a leader of the Jewish community or simply an older person.21 Second, when Paul uses this term in Tit. 1.5, he cannot be doing so in reference to a third office of church leadership in addition to ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι. Rather, he is using it either as a synonym for ἐπίσκοποι or with reference to those πρεσβύτεροι who would also be ἐπίσκοποι  – perhaps paralleling the arrangement referred to in 1 Tim. 5.17 and Acts 20.17, 28.22 That this is the usage in Tit. 1.5 is quite plain from the fact that Paul seamlessly switches the wording used for the subject of his discussions to ὁ ἐπίσκοπος (v. 7) as he continues outlining the character requirements for anyone who would fill the office.23 At this point, πρεσβύτερος and ἐπίσκοπος are equally applicable labels for the same people. That the synonymous usage here is reflective of Paul’s general endorsement of only two distinct offices of local church leadership – the ἐπίσκοπος and διάκονος – is supported not only by the 1 Tim. 5 and Acts 20 references cited above, and of course by 1 Tim. 3, but also by Phil. 1.1. Here he addresses his letter τοῖς ἁγίοις ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ τοῖς οὖσιν ἐν Φιλίπποις σὺν ἐπισκόποις καὶ διακόνοις, with no mention of πρεσβύτεροι. Of course it is possible that at the time Paul wrote, Philippi happened to be without anyone holding the formal office of πρεσβύτερος, but that seems less likely than that there simply was no such distinct leadership role.24 Thus, given the evidence, it could be – and often is – well concluded that Paul saw not three, but

deacons – it does quite powerfully account for both the subsequent careers of the seven and the use of the διακον- words through Acts. 21 Trebilco, Early Christians, 448. 22 Ibid., 452–56; Clarke, Pauline Theology, 76–78, cf. 52–60, 74; Marshall, Pastoral Epistles, 173. 23 Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 162; Ridderbos, Paul, 457. Contra Croft, Three Dimensions, 92–93, who sees Paul outlining the requirements for two groups of leaders in this passage. There are several points throughout his volume where Croft’s determination to find exegetical support for the threefold office seems very forced. He sometimes makes too much of the different labels applied to leaders and sometimes too little. Most unconvincingly, he suggests that, while Paul’s failure to use the term πρεσβύτεροι was possibly because he did not use that label for church leaders, it was more likely ‘simply accidental’. (87) 24 Marshall, Pastoral Epistles, 177–81. Cf. Croft, Three Dimensions, 93–95, who contests that there was already a distinct office of presbyter established in Ephesus when Paul wrote his first letter to Timothy. In 1 Pet. 5.1–2, Peter exhorts the πρεσβύτεροι to shepherd the flock, ἐπισκοποῦντες, not under compulsion but willingly. That is, Peter believes that the work of the presbyter is oversight. Acts 14.23 gives an inverse example to Phil. 1.1, with Luke recording that Paul and Barnabas appointed πρεσβύτεροι to the churches in Lystra, Iconium and Antioch, making no mention of either ἐπίσκοποι or διάκονοι. This is presumably not because the congregations around Asia Minor needed different leadership to the congregations in Macedonia, but it offers further evidence that πρεσβύτερος and ἐπίσκοπος were used interchangeably by the Pauline circle.

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two formal offices for the local church, those of overseer and deacon.25 What follows, however, is support for another suggestion, that Paul is, in fact, better understood as only recognizing one formal category of church leader, that of overseer, with deacons being simply their juniors or apprentices.26 d. Deacons as apprentice overseers Two sets of evidence can be rallied in support of the contention that for Paul, the office of deacon was essentially that of a junior, trainee or possibly assistant overseer. The first is from the texts of 1 Tim. 3.1–13 and Tit. 1.5–9, and the second is from the broader picture of Paul’s own ministry. Beginning with the texts themselves, there are three considerations. The first is that, while 1 Tim. 3.1–13 outlines what is necessary for the roles of both overseer and deacon, Tit. 1.5–9 is only concerned about overseers. In a context where the very purpose of Titus’s sojourn in Crete was to emplace formal leaders in the churches and where Paul is outlining leadership requirements, the omission of any mention of deacons would be inexplicable if Paul was drawing on the same leadership framework for both letters – which the parallels between 1 Tim. 3.1–7 and Tit. 1.5–9 surely indicate he was – as well as the view that overseer and deacon were independently valid and necessary offices of the church.27 However, if he only recognized the one proper office of overseer and understood deacons as being overseers-in-development, there is less of a problem in his not outlining the requirements for those trainee-overseers alongside the requirements for the senior office. The two would then differ only in degree, not kind, and while in some contexts both might be discussed, nothing fundamental is lost from the leadership structures of the churches by only mentioning the primary group. The second consideration when assessing the claim that the office of deacon was, for Paul, a junior overseer, is the strong connection between 1 Tim. 3.1–7 and 3.8–13. Not only are the passages back-to-back, indicating a continuous subject of discussion, but the character requirements for the two offices are also broadly 25 For example, Knight, Pastoral Epistles, 166, 175; Marshall, Pastoral Epistles, 181. 26 Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 154–55, acknowledges the two offices but explicitly denies the advancement of the deacon. Clarke, Pauline Theology, 70; Collins, Diakonia, 235–38, and Trebilco, Early Christians, 459, see deacons as being assistants to overseers, although not apprentices. Croft, Three Dimensions, 45, 48, 67, 94, does see advancement from the lower orders to the higher as being natural, and further notes that membership in the Diaconate has generally been regarded as a prerequisite for those entering the priesthood. He does not go so far as to say that deacons were primarily apprentices to priests. Clarke, Pauline Theology, 71–74, also suggests that, for the Pauline communities, all the offices of the church would have been understood as being subdivisions of the one overarching category of προϊσταμενοι, or ‘leaders’, although he does not suggest advancement between the subgroups. Compare this view with those of Bucer in the main text below. 27 Clarke, Pauline Theology, 50, notes well that the overlap is not as much in language as in concept.

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similar, suggesting that the roles are too.28 Of course, it could be argued that the personal characteristics detailed in these verses are required of all followers of Jesus, and it is therefore improper to expect them only of persons in one particular role within the church and not of everyone equally. And there is indeed a level at which each believer, of whatever station in the Christian fellowship, is bound by the same moral code and doctrinal commitments. But while undeniably true, this argument does not stand well in this particular context. In 1 Tim. 3.1–13, Paul is deliberately and explicitly applying the general truth to specific persons who are being considered for leadership in the church. He is choosing to highlight the moral characteristics that ought to especially mark out a certain subgroup of the Christian population. The present suggestion is that he is applying one set of criteria to one group of people being assessed for the same ultimate role. Beyond this matter of common character, however, an even stronger argument may be drawn from the fact that in vv. 4 and 12, Paul highlights a certain competence required of both overseers and deacons: household management (cf. Tit. 1.6). The reason an overseer needs this skill is spelled out in v. 5: ‘for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how can he take care of God’s church?’ Although the same explanation of the importance of household management is not given for deacons, the parallel is undeniable. Deacons also need to be able to manage their households well if they are to eventually assume the task of managing the family of faith, that is, if they are eventually to become overseers. The third consideration is the inverse of the second: the differences that do exist between 1 Tim. 3.1–7 and 8–13 only emphasize the view that Paul sees just one primary leadership role for the local church, with provision made for apprenticeships towards that role. In fact, most of the differences between the two consecutive passages support this understanding. They will be taken here in sequence. In v. 1, Paul introduces the section of the letter by acknowledging that it is good for a person to aspire to be an overseer. He does not similarly commend aspiration to the Diaconate. This makes perfect sense if deacons are actually aspirants for the Episcopate. One does not aspire to be in training for a role, but for the role itself. In v. 2, the overseer must be an able teacher, and there is no such requirement for deacons, but instead v. 9 teaches that the latter ‘must hold fast to the mystery of the faith with a clear conscience’. If teaching is an important – perhaps defining – part of an overseer’s labour, it is unsurprising that the task is not entrusted to those outside the office.29 But at the same time, it is consistent that those accepted as apprentice overseers, the deacons, must have an unswerving and unhypocritical commitment to the core content of Christian doctrine. This is a logically necessary precursor to any future teaching they may undertake as overseers.30 Interestingly, in Tit. 1.9, Paul phrases the parallel requirement for overseers in a way that captures 28 See Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 156–58, for a table comparing the NT requirements for those carrying different pastoral titles. 29 Marshall, Pastoral Epistles, 175; Ridderbos, Paul, 458. 30 Cf. Marshall, Pastoral Epistles, 487–88, who suggests that ‘v. 9 strongly implies some responsibility within the gospel ministry’.

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what is in both 1 Tim. 3.2 and 3.9, saying, ‘He must have a firm grasp of the word that is trustworthy in accordance with the teaching [cf. 1 Tim. 3.9], so that he may be able to both preach with sound doctrine and to refute those who contradict it [cf. 1 Tim. 3.2].’ Overseers here are expected to also meet the baseline standards for deacons, who are not separately considered. As an aside, it is worth noting at this point that just because Paul made provision in 1 Timothy for the trainee order of deacons, it does not necessarily follow that every church would have had them at every point in their lives. Indeed, Paul is directing Timothy and especially Titus to make their appointments because the leadership offices were unfilled. Given this, while overseers might well be expected to meet the standards required of deacons, that does not mean that all of the actual overseers in any place would have advanced to their positions via the Diaconate. In v. 6, there is a stipulation that overseers not be recent converts, but there is no parallel requirement for deacons. If a proven stability in the faith is a requirement for overseers, it would seem quite appropriate that those who were young in the faith yet aspired to become overseers should be held back from the senior office but admitted to the Diaconate. This would mean they were not turned away from their noble desire, but would be allowed time to mature as they prepared for the overseer role. In v. 10, Paul presents the need for those who wish to be deacons to be tested, and while there is a level at which the whole passage outlines the criteria by which potential deacons must be assessed, for v. 10 not to be redundant it must refer to an additional type or time of testing. This testing is missing from the requirements for overseers, presumably not because it is less important for them to be carefully examined, but simply because they would have already gone through such testing when they sought to enter the Diaconate.31 Finally, in v. 13, Paul states that those who serve well as deacons should acquire a good standing for themselves, something he doesn’t indicate overseers will gain from their good service. Again, this accords well with the idea that the Diaconate is the training and proving ground for the Episcopate. While faithful and able deacons demonstrate their suitability for advancement from their position to the Episcopate, overseers are not aspiring for another role, and so the absence of a parallel encouragement for them in vv. 1–7 is unsurprising. Some scholars are reluctant to take βαθμὸν καλὸν in this verse as referring to the deacons’ positioning for advancement to another post, despite the fact that this is a natural reading of the phrase. They prefer to read it as a good standing in the faith or among the people of God, seemingly because they are reluctant to endorse the idea that Paul would reward deacons’ ambition to ‘advance up the hierarchy’ or to ‘further their careers’.32 But no such self-centred motivation need be posited if deacons are a group of believers preparing for work as overseers. In this case, a βαθμὸν καλὸν 31 Risto Saarinen, The Pastoral Epistles with Philemon & Jude (Grand Rapids:  Brazos, 2008), 66; cf. Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 201. 32 For example, Knight, Pastoral Epistles, 174; Marshall, Pastoral Epistles, 495–96; Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 206.

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simply indicates their appropriateness for the role for which they are being tested and prepared. Moving briefly onto the broader picture of Pauline ministry, the apprenticeship model suggested above also neatly fits the pattern of preparation found in other parts of the apostle’s writing and in his practice. For example, in 2 Tim. 2.2, Paul famously encourages the continual passing on of teaching ministries from one generation to the next. Paul had communicated the ‘sound teaching’ or ‘good treasure’ (1 Tim. 1.13–14) via many witnesses to Timothy, who is then instructed to entrust this message to other faithful people, who themselves will be able to teach others: a five-generation chain. Although some of the communication of the Christian teaching that Paul is referring to may have been verbal or epistolary, it is also clear that Timothy spent a good deal of his early ministry career as Paul’s close companion and co-worker. It would be forcing the model too much to claim that Paul had been in a formal overseer role with Timothy apprenticing as his deacon – these were clearly not the offices they inhabited – but there is a consistency nonetheless in the pattern of a junior Christian leader being trialled and apprenticed under an established and recognized leader before taking on more senior pastoral duties. A similar parallel is recorded in Acts 20.17–38. Here Luke reports that Paul reminded the gathered elders of the Ephesian church of his own teaching ministry, which they had observed firsthand over an extended period, and also exhorted them to discharge their own duties as overseers. What they had seen modelled by a senior teacher in the church, they were now to practise themselves. Thus, from the key texts of the PE, as well as from the broad pattern of Paul’s own ministry, a good case can be made that Paul expected just one main, formal, embedded pastoral office for local congregations, that of overseer. In addition, however, the idea that Paul encouraged the development of aspiring overseers through a formalized apprenticeship of deacons is consistent with the key texts. It is not clear from the PE that Paul expected one overseer per congregation, nor one deacon per overseer.33 While nothing offered above is an incontestable interpretation of the key texts, it would seem to explain them at least as well as any of the alternatives.

2. The offices of ministry in the Church of England While national churches and denominations rely heavily on their traditions for their doctrinal positions and ongoing ordering, they can also occasionally radically reconfigure their structures in light of changed circumstances or convictions. During the sixteenth century, Protestants across Europe and Britain did exactly that, as they recovered biblical paradigms of church and ministry

33 Merkle, Paul’s Ecclesiology, 66–67, 69–70, argues that there was always a plurality of elders in the local churches.

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that had been lost during the centuries of Roman Catholic dominion over the majority of churches in the West. One of the significant changes introduced by the Protestants in this period was the understanding of the nature, functions and structure of the pastoral ministry, and it was new readings of Paul that lay behind this. In England, as the national church began separating from Rome, a great deal of its refreshed understanding of Christianity was drawn directly from continental Lutheranism, a movement that was, in large part, characterized by its particular perspective on Pauline soteriology.34 Luther’s rediscovery of Paul’s doctrine of justification by faith alone quickly became central among the beliefs the English magisterial reformers were actively promulgating from the mid-1530s to the early 1550s. The fresh theological perspective on salvation drove to the obvious conclusion that the old Roman religious orders did not serve the priestly, mediatorial function that had long been ascribed to them, and they therefore needed to be overhauled. If Christ was the only necessary mediator between the Father and sinful humanity, the clergy could no longer be understood as effecting divine-human reconciliation through their presidency at the Catholic Mass rite. Yet further impetus for reform was provided by the reassertion in England of the doctrine of the divine right of kings, which saw the monarch displace the pope to become supreme head of the Church in his realms.35 Under these circumstances, the clergy could no longer be loyal to Rome, and this would need to be made clear in the ordination rites of the English Church. Thus it was convictions regarding both soteriology and authority that necessitated the recreation of England’s clergy.36 To this end, an official liturgy for The forme and maner of makyng and consecratyng of Archebishoppes Bishoppes Priestes and Deacons was produced in 1549/50, to be bound up with the recently published first Book of Common Prayer, and then with each of its subsequent revisions.37 The history of the development of this new Ordinal is well traced elsewhere and will not be rehearsed in the present study.38 Suffice to say that its production was very much like that of the Book of Common Prayer in that it incorporated

34 Apart from quotations, when capitalized herein, ‘Church’ refers to the institution. 35 Donald G. Bloesch, The Church (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2002), 211–12, suggests that another argument for reinventing the clergy was that it would prevent them from being thought of as having an elite occupation among the common people. 36 Of course, as consciously as such theological connections were made, it is also true that in this period, the national political concerns were inseparably – some might even say conveniently – intertwined with the new doctrinal convictions. It would be too much to claim that the abandonment of Henry VIII’s first marriage, the break with Rome, the elevation of the monarch to head of the Church and the lucrative dissolution of the monasteries were all purely motivated by religious convictions. 37 Joseph Ketley, The Two Liturgies, with other documents set forth by authority in the reign of King Edward VI (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1844), vii, 159–86. 38 For example, Paul F. Bradshaw, The Anglican Ordinal (London: SPCK, 1971).

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a great deal from the equivalent services of the late-medieval English Catholic Church, and at the same time marked a substantial theological departure from those former rites. In addition to rejecting the ideas that the clergy were ontologically different from the laity and that they had metaphysical power to change bread and wine into the carnal body and blood of Christ, there were two other standout changes that the new Ordinal established. The first was that the rites of ordination themselves were demoted such that they were no longer recognized as sacraments of the Church. The second was that the number of clerical positions was set at just three – deacons, priests and bishops (a corrupted from of ‘Episcopos’)  – the famous ‘threefold order of ministry’. Because the Ordinal remained substantially unchanged through to its reproduction in the fifth and final Book of Common Prayer in 1662, it is fair to say that it has encapsulated the essence of pastoral ministry for the Church of England and her worldwide daughter Anglican Churches for almost the past half-millennium. It therefore becomes clear that in order to understand the degree to which not only the Church of England, but the entire Anglican Communion, adopted Paul’s priorities for their pastorates, it is necessary to investigate what of Paul is captured in England’s first Reformation Ordinal. The focus in what follows will be on determining which, if any, of the Ordinal’s sources determined the overall paradigm governing its formal offices of ministry. There will also be a consideration of the degree to which that paradigm aligns with what was found above in §1.39 Of course, the very fact of the English ‘threefold order’ might immediately suggest that the Ordinal does not adopt the structure of local church leadership as presented above, but either interprets the apostle and the rest of the relevant New Testament teaching differently, or else draws its structure from its nonbiblical sources. Upon investigating those sources, however, it seems that although this is true at one level, the case may be somewhat more nuanced. The 1549/50 Ordinal drew its contents from three main sources. The first was the text of the New Testament. The second was the preexisting rites of the Roman Catholic Church that were found in the Pontifical. This was the volume that contained the orders for those liturgical services that could only be conducted by a bishop. The third was Martin Bucer’s De Ordinatione Legitima. Bucer had been resident in Cambridge from 1549 until his premature death in 1551, and his influence on the English liturgies is best known from his Censura, which offered comments on the first Book of Common Prayer and recommendations for its revision, up to half of which were incorporated in the second Prayer Book. De Ordination Legitima was written in England in 1549 and was expressly intended as a model for the new English Ordinal.40

39 The appendix to this chapter details the references and allusions to Paul in the Ordinal. 40 Malcolm B. Yarnell, Royal Priesthood in the English Reformation (Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 2013), 203–4.

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Table 2 Scripture Readings in the Ordinal of 1549/50 One of

Plus one of

Deacons

1 Tim. 3.8–16 Acts 6.2–7

Priests

Acts 20.17–35 1 Tim. 3.1–16

Mt. 9.36–38 Jn 10.1–16 Jn 20.19–23

Bishops

1 Tim. 3.1–7

Jn 21.15–17 Jn 10.1–16

a. The Biblical basis The preface to the Ordinal opens with a bold assertion: It is evident unto all men, diligently reading holy scripture, and ancient authors, that from the Apostles’ time there hath been these orders of Ministers in Christ’s church: Bishops, Priests, and Deacons.41

Thus, it would appear that the English Church’s justification for the threefold office comes from both the Bible and the Church fathers. Certainly the offices of bishop, priest and deacon can be found in the church’s writings from as early as the second century. Given the contents of the Ordinal, however, it is difficult to accept that the English reformers also found these three so clearly differentiated in the Scriptures. There can be no doubt that, like the Book of Common Prayer, the Ordinal is remarkable for the amount of Scripture woven through it. But the quantity of text neither necessarily equates to nor substitutes for its right application, and the Ordinal deploys the key Bible texts in very inconsistent and confusing ways to establish its three orders. This is most obvious when the three services are considered alongside one another. The Form and Manner of Ordering of Deacons required the public reading of either 1 Tim. 3.8–16 or Acts 6.2–7 and had no second reading. For The Form of Ordering Priests, the first reading was to be either Acts 20.17–35 (Paul’s conference with the Ephesian elders) or 1 Tim. 3.1–16, and the second reading was either Mt 9.36–38 (Jesus’s instruction to pray for workers for the harvest), Jn 10.1–16 (Jesus the good shepherd) or Jn 20.19–23 (Jesus giving the Spirit to the disciples). In The Form of Consecrating of an Archbishop or Bishop, the first reading was to be 1 Tim. 3.1–7 and the second either Jn 21.15–17 (Jesus commissioning Peter) or Jn 10.1– 16. These are summarized in Table 2. Aside from the questionable connection of Acts 6 with the office of deacon, the texts for the service of ordination to the Diaconate are expected. Similarly, the choice of 1 Tim. 3.1–7 is understandable for the consecration of bishops. And 41 Ketley, Two Liturgies, 161.

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Table 3 Scripture Readings in the Ordinal of 1662 One of

Plus one of

Deacons

1 Tim. 3.8–16 Acts 6.2–7

Priests

Eph. 4.7–13

Mt. 9.36–38 Jn 10.1–16

Bishops

1 Tim. 3.1–7 Acts 20.17–35

Jn 21.15–17 Jn 20.19–23 Mt. 28.18–20

perhaps if these had been the only two orders, the compilers of the Ordinal could be thought to have been following Paul’s model for the pastoral offices quite neatly. The choice of texts for ordination to the priesthood, however, strongly suggests that doing this consistently was not their priority. Not only does the Acts 20 text address the elders as ἐπίσκοποι (v. 28), but the inclusion of all of 1 Tim. 3.1–16 as an option for the service is difficult to understand. That passage might be helpful in indicating the character and competencies generally necessary for all clergy, but it does not make clear which biblical office the ordinands for the priesthood were entering in the way that each separate half of the same passage did in the services for deacons and bishops. In addition to this, the services for the ordination of priests and consecration of bishops offered a common second reading from John 10 and also drew on Eph. 4.11–12 in the prayers at their conclusions. In short, therefore, the service for the ordination of priests, while rich in its use of Scripture, did not draw upon any biblical material that clearly indicated the separate validity of the office of priest in the way that the other two services drew on texts specifically pointed towards deacons and bishops. The overall impression is that biblical material was used to dress the services, but was not initially used to derive the legitimacy of the orders. A subsequent revision of the Ordinal resulted in the set readings being reallocated as they are shown in Table 3. While this removed the ambiguity that had been created by reusing the same texts in different ordination services, it was only a reactive redistribution and had nothing to do with the first establishment of the threefold order. b. The Roman orders Although the English reformers were, at least in principle, eager to reinvent the national religion in line with the Bible’s teaching, the Bible did not offer them preformed structures for their church services. Therefore, the new liturgies of the 1540s and 1550s were constructed using the skeletons – and also some of the substance – of the old Roman Catholic Church services, a strategy that also allowed for some sense of continuity with the past during a time of radical and rapid change. The old ordination services were found in the Pontifical, a resource that

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had not been much used in the production of the Book of Common Prayer. The latter point is important to the current argument, as it shows that while England was reinventing its Church leadership, it did not envisage a great deal of necessary participation from the order of bishops in the regular life of the congregations. Bishops were only required for confirmations and ordinations. There were several Pontificals in late-medieval England, and the Ordinal utilized the Salisbury (or Sarum) version.42 Two points are important when considering the Church of England’s orders as a renewal of their Roman Catholic predecessors. The first is that they represent a very substantial simplification. The Roman Church not only recognized bishops, priests and deacons, but also had cardinals among its ‘major’ orders, and then additionally had ‘minor’ orders of subdeacons, lectors, acolytes and exorcists. Together, the major and minor orders comprised the secular clergy. In addition to these were the regular clergy, those who had made vows to live by certain ‘rules’. These were divided into the monastics – monks and nuns, with their abbots and abbesses – and the mendicants or friars. The usual distinction between the two groups is that monastics lived cloistered lives focused on prayer and labour, while mendicants lived and preached among the laity, although the reality in England may have been more mixed. Among the things that all the regular clergy had in common was a commitment to serving the poor. The difference between the secular and regular clergy was that the former were concerned with the pastoral and worshipping life of local parishes, whereas the latter were independent of these formal ties. From this complex ecclesiastical context, the establishment of a threefold order (which of course followed after the dissolution of the monasteries a decade earlier) served as much to reduce the number of religious offices as it did to set it.43 In addition to this simplifying of the old structures, the renewal of the clerical offices was also critical in severing the Church from the pope, who formerly had ultimate authority over all secular and regular clergy. Legislation from the Reformation Parliament had begun this process, but The Oath of the King’s Supremacy in each of the three services of the Ordinal finalized it. The second point of importance is that the new Church of England orders followed the Roman in presuming that the higher ranks of the major clergy would be drawn from the lower. Bishops were elevated from the priesthood and priests from the Diaconate.44 Moreover, deacons were explicitly understood to be helpers to the priests. The Sarum Pontifical specified that deacons would assist priests in all the

42 F. E. Brightman, The English Rite, vol. 2 (London: Rivingtons, 1921), i, 950. 43 It is potentially also of some relevance that in the new English model, part of the space left by the abolition of the regular clergy was around feeding and serving the poor, something perhaps more akin to the work of the seven in Acts 6. Collins, Diakonia, 8–11 (cf. 66–69), gives examples of Diaconates filling the space that the regular clergy had vacated. 44 In 1957, Pius XII expressed his concern about a Diaconate that was not preparatory for the priesthood, as it could compromise the distinction between clergy and laity and throw the received nature of the priesthood into question. Collins, Diakonia, 42.

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rites of the sacrament of the Church, would minister at the altar, read the Gospel, baptize and preach.45 This is all carried through to the Ordinal, which states: It pertaineth to the office of a Deacon to assist the Priest in divine service, and specially when he ministereth the holy Communion, and help him in distribution thereof, and to read holy scriptures and Homilies in the congregation, and to instruct the youth in the Catechism, and also to baptize and preach if he be commanded by the Bishop.46

Deacons are also implicitly understood to be assistants to priests throughout the Book of Common Prayer, where they never have the senior liturgical role, but are regularly included at various points throughout the service. The ideas that priests are the primary office-holders of local congregations, that deacons are assistants to priests and that deacons might at some point advance to the priesthood were all taken from the Roman Church by the English and were also very much in line with the reading of Paul offered above in §1.47 Having looked at just two of the sources, it would appear as though the English Protestants’ process of reforming their ecclesiastical offices began with the structures of Rome and not with the Pauline pattern of church leadership. It has, however, also been found that there were aspects of the Roman model that did have some faithful resonances with the picture of local church ministry offices found in the PE. While this much is clear, a brief consideration of the final source for the Ordinal will contribute another interesting dimension to the understanding of the English Church’s conception of the formal offices of ministry. c. Bucer’s De Ordinatione Legitima Martin Bucer was praised by England’s leading reformers as he was emplaced as Regius professor of divinity at Cambridge University in 1549 and greatly grieved upon his death just two years later. For many years, the English magisterial reformers had hoped to secure a residence by one of the leading continental Protestants, and Bucer was considered a powerful ally in their fight to gain national acceptance of their theological paradigms. Again, it was largely at his direction that the Book of Common Prayer would take its most unambiguously Protestant form in its second edition of 1552. In De Ordinatione Legitima, it is very clear that Bucer holds to there being just two offices of church leadership. He writes: The offices of the church, in accordance with the institution of the Holy Spirit, are of two kinds. The one includes the administration of the Word, the sacraments, 45 Brightman, English Rite, 950. 46 Ketley, Two Liturgies, 169. 47 Within the Roman Catholic system, the regular clergy also had ‘apprentice’-type roles: the novices.

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and the discipline of Christ, which really belongs to the overseers and elders. The other consists in the care of the poor which is entrusted to those who are called deacons.48

Here, Bucer does make a distinction between overseers and elders, but he also sees them both as belonging to the one group deployed in the single office of ministers responsible for doctrine, devotion and discipline. This could accord well with the New Testament presentation of overseers and elders discussed above. Bucer’s second office is that of the deacons who serve the poor, here taking Acts 6 as the model.49 Given that De Ordinatione Legitima was directly drawn upon for the contents of the English Ordinal, the question that could concern the evangelical historian at this point is why the English reformers preferred to adopt part of the Roman model of orders instead of the alternative of their Protestant champion, especially since the English reform movement was enjoying great momentum during the reign of Edward VI. But the question largely dissipates when the considerable variability in Bucer’s presentations of the pastoral offices is recognized. Based on his understanding of the diversity of ministry structure across the early church, Bucer believed that church order, including the particular division of offices, was something that different churches were free to work out based on what most served their circumstances.50 Further to this, he also followed a principle regularly adopted in England’s programs of liturgical reform, that of taking the existing state of affairs as the starting point.51 Thus it is no real surprise to find, some twenty pages further into De Ordinatione Legitima, that Bucer could also conceive of a single church office of overseer/elder – now renamed ‘presbyter’ – divided into three suborders somewhat confusingly labelled bishop, presbyter and deacon. These three differ in degree, not kind, and also in their deployment, with bishops having a supervisory leadership role, presbyters a local pastoral role and deacons an assistant role to the presbyters, which included care for the poor. Table 4 lays out Bucer’s schemata. Thus it is clear that for Bucer, while the formal ministry stations of the church could rightly be divided into just two offices, overseer and deacon, they could equally be understood as three suborders of bishop, presbyter and deacon within the one overarching pastoral office of the presbyterate.52 In the first way of 48 Quoted in Willem van ’t Spijker, The Ecclesiastical Offices in the Thought of Martin Bucer, trans. John Vriend and Lyle D. Bierma, Studies in Medieval and Reformation Thought 57 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 389. As its title indicates, this volume presents an extensive study of Bucer’s views of the offices of church leadership. 49 Spijker, Ecclesiastical Offices, 432–40. 50 Ibid., 263, 387. 51 Ibid., 426. 52 Ibid., 389, 391, 420–40. Bucer’s different perspectives also come through in his other works on the church. So Yarnell, Royal Priesthood, 202–3, notes that in his 1550 volume De  Regno Christi, Bucer both emphasizes the difference between bishops and presbyters

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Table 4 Bucer’s Conceptions of the Structure of the Pastoral Offices Two Offices

One Eldership Office in Three Orders

Overseer/Presbyter (Word, sacraments, discipline)

First-order presbyters: Bishops (leaders among presbyters) Second-order presbyters: Presbyters (local church ministry)

Deacon (care for the poor)

Third-order presbyters: Deacons (assist presbyters and care for the poor)

thinking, overseers and presbyters are indivisible; in the second they are placed in two separate tiers. A further part of Bucer’s second conception is that within the macro-office of presbyter, there would be advancement from the more junior to the more senior ranks, with deacons being aspirants to the full presbyterate.53 Noting all this makes plain that Bucer’s second view is not very far from that advanced in §1, with Paul holding to just one formal office of local church leadership and different subdivisions for those at different stages of their ministry. The difference is that Bucer allows for three tiers rather than just two.54 It is also worth noting that in keeping with his second framework, in De Ordinatione Legitima, Bucer presented only one order of service to do duty for ordination to all three positions.55 When all this is understood, it immediately becomes clear that the Ordinal was not at all inconsistent with Bucer, but simply followed his second way of thinking about ministry offices and may well have mirrored these more closely than it did the Pontifical.

and also speaks of the bishop consulting ‘the other presbyters, who are also called bishops in the Scriptures because of this common ministry’. Spijker, Ecclesiastical Offices, 386, writes: Bucer’s views concerning the nature and number of the offices which are intended for all times are marked by a distinct lack of clarity. Without much effort one can put side-by-side texts which at first blush seem to be incompatible with each other. In large part this uncertainty is to be attributed to the unsystematic character of the New Testament data. 53 Spijker, Ecclesiastical Offices, 434. 54 It is interesting, however, that in the Ordinal, bishops are ‘consecrated’ rather than ‘ordered’. This perhaps gives a further indication that the compilers of the Ordinal did have some discomfort in the idea of a strict threefold order. And coming from the opposite direction, it is similarly interesting that the 1549/50 Ordinal explicitly distinguishes between bishops and archbishops, thereby recognizing at least them as different tiers within the one order. In 1552 the word ‘Archbishop’ was omitted from the Ordinal’s title page; Ketley, Two Liturgies, vii. 55 Spijker, Ecclesiastical Offices, 348.

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3. Conclusion The PE, and the New Testament more broadly, assume and endorse formalized leadership positions for local churches, although never institutionalize or elevate ecclesiastical structures to the point that they coldly trump the spontaneously loving and organic fellowship that exists between members of the family of faith. Although contrary to the majority of past interpretations of the PE and related texts, it seems textually defensible to suggest that Paul only envisioned one formal leadership office for the local church, that of overseer (ἐπίσκοποι), with deacons (when διάκονοι is used as a term of office) serving as apprentices, or possibly assistants, to that role. It is not at all clear from the text that the seven set aside in Acts 6.2–7 were designated deacons in any formal sense. Overseers may have been drawn from the elders (πρεσβύτεροι) of the churches, but ‘elder’ was not the title of a separate, formal leadership office. There is no overlap between the overseers of the New Testament and the mediatorial priesthood of the Old Testament. The latter is fulfilled primarily in Jesus and also collectively in his followers. As part of the reinvention of the Church of England during the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century, the Ordinal of 1549/50 provided new liturgies for the making of deacons and priests and for the consecration of bishops. The famous ‘threefold order’ of ministry was not directly drawn from the New Testament in any obvious way, but it was in line with one of Martin Bucer’s conceptions of the offices of ministry even as it inhabited a part of the clerical structure of the old Roman Church. Given this, the Anglican Church can well be understood as having one office of ministry with three suborders. Within this structure, bishops, priests and deacons differ by degree, not kind, although, perhaps significantly, bishops are not expected to offer much service in local churches. Priests then serve as the congregational overseers, and deacons are rightly understood as their assistants and apprentices, as was found to be a viable reading of the relevant texts within the PE and the New Testament as a whole.

Appendix: Paul in the 1549 Ordinal This appendix contains a prose log of the occurrences of Pauline writing and other New Testament writing about Paul (i.e. Luke’s records of Paul’s ministry in the book of Acts) that are found within the three services of the 1549/50 Ordinal.56 The set Bible readings for those services are not listed here, but can be found tabulated in the main text of the chapter. As will be apparent, in some cases the Pauline references are direct, whereas in others there are only allusions and sympathies to be noted.

56 All quotations from the Ordinal are taken from Ketley, Two Liturgies, 159–86.

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The form and manner of ordering of deacons By reading this service in the light of 1 Tim. 3.8–13, the Pauline passage most directly concerned with the setting aside of deacons, it is very clear that it captures many of the apostle’s priorities for that order. For example, 1 Tim. 3.10 says of the aspirants, And let them first be tested; then, if they prove themselves blameless, let them serve as deacons.

The ordination service did require that the candidates be presented before a bishop by an archdeacon, who was then to confirm that they were apt and meet, for their learning, and Godly conversation, to the exercise of their ministery duly, to the honour of God, and edifying of his Church.

The requirement accords with the expectations of the 1 Tim. passage generally and specifically singles out ‘their learning’, perhaps echoing Paul’s concern in v. 9 that they would ‘hold fast to the mystery of the faith’. The testing was not complete at this point, but continued with the members of the congregation next asked to disclose any ‘impediment, or notable crime’ that would render any of the candidates ineligible to stand as deacons. Presuming no substantial fault was found and the service could proceed, the bishop was then to lead the people through the Litany and Suffrages.57 While this standard set of petitions was not unique to the ordination service, it nonetheless incorporated prayers that resonated well with Pauline teaching. For example, several prayers were to be offered for the sovereign and the government, in full harmony with 1 Tim. 2.1–3. One is offered ‘through our only mediator and advocate Jesus Christ our Lord’, a clear echo of 1 Tim. 2.5. And one asks for the Lord ‘to bring forth the fruits of the Spirit’, a reference to Gal. 5.22–23. Other allusions to Pauline writings could also be drawn from these prayers, but of a far more general nature. Following the Bible reading, the ordinands were required to rehearse the Oath of the King’s Supremacy, an extended declaration of loyalty to the crown and rejection of papal authority. The strength of the positive assertions in this oath are very much in line with the force of Paul’s requirements to accept temporal authority in Rom. 13.1–7 and Tit. 3.1. For example, it required commitments such as: And I from henceforth will accept, repute, and take the King’s Majesty to be the only supreme head in earth, of the church of England . . . I will observe, keep, maintain and defend, the whole effects and contents of all and singular acts and statutes made, and to be made within this realm.

57 Ketley, Two Liturgies, 100–5.

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This sits neatly alongside Paul, who says: Let every person be subject to the governing authorities; for there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists authority resists what God has appointed. [Rom. 13.1–2]

But the oath is not directly referring to the Romans passage, which, at any rate, could of course be called upon to support papal authority as much as to reject it. It is rather a more political tool in the Ordinal, being used to formally secure a revised temporal hierarchy in England, not to encourage obedience to the apostle. Moving towards the close of the service, it can be noted that deacons in the Church were to be examples among the people. The second to last interrogatory question from the bishop was: Will you apply all your diligence to frame and fashion your own lives, and the lives of all your family according to the doctrine of Christ, and to make both yourselves and them, as much as in you lieth, wholesome examples of the flock of Christ?

While again not directly drawing on Paul, this accords neatly with the apostle’s own intentionally exemplary behaviour as recorded in texts such as 1 Cor. 4.16, 11.1 and 1 Thess. 4.1. Paul clearly considered it critical that those with leadership roles in the church behave consistently with the ethics of the New Testament so that others might follow their example as well as their teaching. Finally, at the climax of the ordination, a rubric directed the bishop to lay his hands on the ordinands’ heads as he granted them the authority of office. The action is in line with the practice Paul speaks of in 1 Tim. 4.14 and 2 Tim. 1.6. The form of ordering priests Like the service for the ordination of deacons, this service also contained examinations, a call to exemplary Christian living and ‘the oath, concerning the King’s Supremacy’. Following these, the bishop charged the ordinands with the duties of the priestly office, partly explained as being to be the Messengers, the Watchmen, the Pastors, and the Stewards of the Lord, to teach to premonish, to feed, and provide for the Lord’s family:  to seek for Christ’s Sheep, that be dispersed abroad, and for his children, which be in the midst of this naughty world, to be saved through Christ for ever.

The list here is again not directly Pauline, but draws from a number of places in the NT. Nonetheless, it can quite reasonably be read as reflecting the pastoral priorities of the apostle, or at the very least in no ways cutting against them. Similarly, during

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the interrogation, some questions are put that are not drawn from Paul verbatim, but still adhere very closely to his stated pastoral concerns. So the following question can be seen as ensuring that requirements such as those of 1 Tim. 4.11–13, 2 Tim. 4.1–4 and Tit. 2.1, 15 are met: Will you be ready with all faithful diligence to banish and drive away all erroneous and strange doctrines contrary to God’s word, and to use both public and private monitions and exhortations, and as well to the sick as to the whole, within your cures, as need shall require and occasion be given?

Likewise, the question Will you maintain and set forwards (as much as lieth in you) quietness, peace, and love amongst all Christian people, and specially amongst them that are or shall be committed to your charge?

marries well with the imperatives of texts such as Rom. 12.16–18. A more direct Pauline reference comes in the prayer following the interrogation. There, thanks are given to God for the historic work of Christ, who, after his ascension, sent abroad into the world his Apostles, Prophets, Evangelists, Doctors, and Pastors, by whose labour and ministry he gathered together a great flock in all the parts of the world, to set forth the eternal praise of thy holy name.

This draws directly on Eph. 4.11–12. As the service draws to its end, a rubric calls for the bishop and any priests present to lay hands on the ordinands, the Pauline practice that was also required for the ordination of deacons. And in the prayer that closes the service, there is a petition that the words of the new priests ‘may never be spoken in vain’, which is evocative of Paul’s own concern in Gal. 4.11. The form of consecrating of an archbishop or bishop Having considered the services for the ordination of deacons and priests, the order for the consecration of bishops can be analyzed more quickly, as it is largely built from the same components as those other services commented on above. As noted in the main text, the first set reading for consecrations to the Episcopate was 1 Tim. 3.1–7, although unlike the ordination services for deacons and priests, there was no alternative option provided – this text would be required for the consecration of every bishop. A  prayer in the early part of the service then made reference to the account of the setting aside of Paul and Barnabas in Acts 13.1–3 and took from it the imperative to pray before appointing church leaders. This then stood as the introduction to the Litany and Suffrages, which was discussed above as part of the ordination of deacons.

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Following from this was the interrogation, which was largely the same as that for the ordination of priests. The prayer after the interrogation again listed the five human gifts of Eph. 4.11–12, although with a different application to that given in the service for ordaining priests. At the laying on of hands, the archbishop recited 2 Tim. 1.6–7, and when the Bible was laid upon the neck of the bishop-elect, he would proceed with 1 Tim. 4.13, 15–16. References from Paul’s letters to Timothy continued after the communion, with the service’s closing prayer first drawing on 2 Tim. 4.2, asking that the new bishop be earnest to reprove, beseech, and rebuke with all patience and Doctrine;

and then continuing with 1 Tim. 4.12, asking that he would be to such as believe an wholesome example in word, in conversation, in love, in faith, in chastity, and purity;

and finally 2 Tim. 4.8, seeking that at the latter day he may receive the crown of righteousness, laid up by the Lord, the righteous Judge.

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Chapter 13 A U G U ST I N E O F H I P P O O N P AU L A S   P A ST O R Andrew M. Bain

If Augustine were asked to articulate in a few words his views on ‘Paul as pastor’, he would likely have been puzzled by the question, and may have even avoided answering it. Given Augustine’s enormous influence over the Western theological tradition, this might go some way towards explaining why, in the time since, there has been less focused and explicit discussion of Paul as pastor than we might hope for or expect. For reasons that we will discuss below, if Augustine were in one of the more facetious moods that we can sometimes observe in his sermons, it is possible that he would first have turned the question on its head and suggested that pastors ought not be asking about ‘Paul the pastor’, but instead focus on Christ as their pastor and the head shepherd of their church. Further, like many before him and since, Augustine would probably have pointed out other identities associated with Paul, in his case underlining, above all, Paul’s status as a teacher. All these things considered, however, upon closer inspection Augustine does present a perspective on Paul as a pastor, one this chapter shall argue holds some relevance for both pastors and students of Paul today. Augustine was deeply familiar with the work of the pastorate as it existed in his own context. He spent more than thirty years of his life, most of his years as a selfidentified Christian, in a position of substantial pastoral responsibility, as bishop of Hippo Regius in Roman North Africa, located in modern-day Algeria. Although episcopal language is used to describe his role in Hippo Regius, Augustine, like the majority of bishops in late antiquity, in actuality was closer to being the pastor responsible for a large local parish with several outlying congregations. The vast majority of his time was concentrated not so much on his diocese-wide ministry, but on that within the large but not massive cathedral church in Hippo.1 In twentyfirst-century terms, Augustine would seem to have shared more in common with those known by titles such as ‘lead pastor’ and ‘senior minister’ than ‘bishop’ within modern contexts operating as episcopal systems. The massive and greatly influential literary output upon which Augustine’s reputation primarily rests was largely produced in the evenings, after he had done a long day’s work, which for 1 James J. O’Donnell, Augustine:  A  New Biography (New  York:  Harper Collins, 2005), 20–21.

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him typically involved adjudicating cases and disputes within the Christian community, preaching, supervising the other clergy and dealing with things that came up within the congregation and occasionally in the wider affairs of the church in his province of the empire.2 We must not imagine that Augustine the pastor sat uncomfortably alongside Augustine the scholar-theologian, with the latter living in a constant state of resentment towards the former for chewing up the best hours of the day. Augustine was clearly devoted to his pastoral work and gave considerable personal passion to it, as well as time and attention, as he tells his congregation in Sermon 120, ‘As far as I can, I am turning myself inside out for you.’ He was strongly committed to the people under his care, in spite of the vicissitudes and contradictions that can often enter into the relationship between shepherd and flock in pastoral work. He expresses this with poignant simplicity while commenting on the psalms, ‘Let them say against me whatever they will, I shall love them even if they don’t want me to,’3 and elsewhere pleads, ‘I do not wish to be saved without you.’4 Given that Augustine devoted the lion’s share of his time to pastoral work, those who study him have tended to not give anywhere near proportionate emphasis to this aspect of his ministry. This remains the case, even if, in recent years, his preaching and exegesis, which might tell us more about his pastoral theology and practice, have partially recovered from their previous neglect.5 To give one illustration of many, the recently published second edition of The Cambridge Companion to Augustine contains some seventeen chapters, and as was the case with the first edition, none of them deals with the matter of Augustine the pastor or Augustine the bishop.6 Turning to the question of what might be said about Augustine’s perspective on Paul as a pastor, the first thing to observe, and something of considerable significance, is what Augustine does not say with respect to Paul as pastor. For many past and present, Augustine tends to be seen as a strongly Pauline theologian. He owes this reputation, particularly among Protestants standing self-consciously in line behind Luther, primarily to the anti-Pelagian writings of the last two decades of his life. However, it should be noted that even in these writings, Augustine is less straightforwardly Pauline than might sometimes be imagined. He develops into an art form the habit of finding Pauline ideas in the most unlikely non-Pauline passages, while neglecting to mention obvious references to Paul’s utterances in the same breath. Arguably his controlling verse in setting forth the principle that ‘all is of grace’ in several of these works is Johannine: ‘I am the vine, you are the

2 Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 2nd ed. (London: Faber & Faber, 2000), 188–90. 3 Augustine, Expositions on the Book of Psalms 36.16 (NPNF1 1:91). 4 Augustine, Sermons on Selected Lessons of the New Testament 17.2 (NPNF1 6:311). 5 See, for example, the recent and substantial contribution to this improving state of affairs concerning Augustine’s preaching in Peter T. Sanlon, Augustine’s Theology of Preaching (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2014). 6 David V. Meconi and Eleonore Stump, eds., The Cambridge Companion to Augustine, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014).

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branches – without me you can do nothing.’7 Augustine’s anti-Pelagian writings, which typically stand at the centre of the Pauline Augustine of our imagination, are consistently uninterested in Paul as a figure or example of any kind, let alone as a pastor. He is almost always referred to in relation to his status as a teacher of the church. In those places where his person is in view, it is above all Paul the teacher of the Gentile church who predominates, and his apostolic character derives largely from his role as someone who gives authoritative utterances to the Church at large rather than to particular instantiated groups of actual Christians who might have a pastoral context to be addressed.8 Augustine’s anti-Pelagian writings also tend to be rather narrowly focused on the theological issues at hand. Although we might say that Augustine ultimately writes against Pelagian teaching out of pastoral concern for the Christian communities of his world, the writings of this part of his corpus are not particularly pastoral pieces of literature. Therefore, if we are expecting an account of Paul as pastor within Augustine to lead fairly directly from Augustine’s most strident examples of ‘Pauline’ theology to either his own pastoral practice or his perspective on Paul as pastor, we will be disappointed. Those who are more familiar with Augustine’s literary output might have a rather different expectation regarding connections he might make between his own pastoral practice and the figure of Paul. Augustine, in his preaching and his exegetical works, has a tendency to discuss biblical characters in terms of their inner thoughts, feelings and emotions, in order to help his Christian audience reflect upon their own internal world.9 Paul Kolbet, in his 2009 work on Augustine’s pastoral practice, describes this technique as ‘psychagogy’ and persuasively argues that it is a major element of Augustine’s pastoral approach.10 Various individuals in the Gospels, including Christ himself, figure prominently in this regard for Augustine, as do some Old Testament characters from time to time; however, Paul does so very rarely. So while readers of Augustine learn much from his writings about the internal thoughts and feelings of Peter, and sometimes even how Peter in this way functions as a shepherd of souls, Paul for Augustine remains a character viewed largely from the outside. Having practised a via negativa of sorts, in indicating what Augustine’s perspective on Paul the pastor is not, what might we say more positively regarding Augustine, Paul and the pastorate? The answer might be encapsulated within a single word: humility. Augustine regards Paul as a great exemplar of Christian humility and servanthood as he carried out his ministry to and within the churches. As

7 Augustine, Against the Jews 1.1, 10.5, in Treatises on Marriage and Other Subjects, vol. 27 of The Fathers of the Church: A New Translation, ed. Roy J. Defarrari, trans. Charles T. Wilcox et al. (New York: Fathers of the Church, 1955), 32, 84. 8 For example, Augustine, On the Predestination of the Saints 15.31 (NPNF1 5:513), On the Proceedings of Pelagius 14.32, (NPNF1 5:197), On the Soul and Its Origin, 2.2, (NPNF1 5:359). 9 Brown, Augustine, 192; Sanlon, Augustine’s Theology, 71ff. 10 Paul R. Kolbet, Augustine and the Cure of Souls (Notre Dame: Notre Dame, 2009).

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Augustine puts it, Paul, in spending time with Christian churches and writing to them, is ‘a servant of Christ and the servant of the servants of Christ’.11 ‘For we are your servants brethren,’ he says, ‘and let none of us think of ourselves as greater than you.’12 Augustine frequently favours making passing reference to Paul’s description of himself as ‘the least of the apostles’ and ‘the least of all the saints’, often suggesting that his own ministry and that of bishops more generally ought to be thought of in the same terms.13 Philippians 2.5–11 is also a popular text for Augustine in speaking of how those in Christian leadership ought to regard themselves, like Paul, as following the self-abasing example of Christ.14 Commenting on 2 Cor. 12.2–5, Augustine does believe that Paul is speaking here of himself rather than another person, and what he picks out as significant from this perspective is that Paul deliberately talks about himself as if it concerns another, in order to put his money where his mouth is in relation to his assertion in v. 5 that he will not boast about himself.15 Lastly, Augustine points out that even Paul never believed that he had ‘made it’ perfectly in his own ministry, and neither should we.16 What does Pauline humility look like for Augustine in practice, and what is its content? Firstly, and above all, it is thoroughly Christocentric rather than selfcentred. It involves the pastor glorifying Christ rather than himself, and particularly saying and doing things which will help those who look to him put their trust in Christ rather than in his own name or ministry. Augustine’s gloss on Paul’s selfreflection in 2 Cor. 12.6 is illustrative: The most blessed Paul – who is certainly not himself the only-begotten Son of God, but the servant and apostle of that Son; not the Truth, but a partaker of the truth – declares with freedom and consistency, ‘And though I would desire to glory, I shall not be a fool; for I say the truth.’ For it would not be in himself, but in the truth, which is superior to himself, that he was glorying both humbly and truly: for it is he also who has given the charge, that he that glories should glory in the Lord.17

A cardinal reference point for Augustine, which he is continually reminding himself and other pastors of, is that it is Christ himself who is doing the pastoral work. A favourite text on this theme of Augustine’s is 1 Cor. 3.4–7, and the following remarks are typical:  ‘He works not by them [apostles, servants], but by Himself; for work like that exceeds the lowly capacity of man, transcends the

11 Augustine, Letters 118.3.20, (NPNF1 1:445). 12 Augustine, Expositions on the Book of Psalms 147.12, (NPNF1 1:667). 13 For example, Augustine, Homilies on the First Epistle of John 8.2, (NPNF1 7:506). 14 For example, Augustine, Sermons on Selected Lessons of the New Testament 25.7 (NPNF1 6:338). 15 Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel According to St. John 61.4 (NPNF1 7:311). 16 Augustine, Expositions on the Book of Psalms 84.4 (NPNF1 1:401). 17 Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel According to St. John 58.3 (NPNF1 7:305).

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lofty powers of angels, and rests solely and entirely in the hands of the Triune Shepherd.’18 Or as he says elsewhere, referencing the same Pauline passage, ‘of what I gave, I was not the giver’.19 Augustine knows that we can tend to notice the impressiveness, the giftedness and the fame of our leaders. His remarks pointedly push against this tendency: ‘For how great a mountain was Paul? Where is one like him found? We speak of the greatness of men. Can any one readily be found of so great grace? Nevertheless, he feared lest that those little ones should place their trust in him: and so what does he say: “Was Paul crucified for you?” ’20 In this light, it is not surprising that Augustine reads 1 Corinthians 1, with its criticisms of those who follow various alternative leaders such as Paul and Apollos, as he does.21 Interestingly, and unlike many modern commentators, Augustine understands Paul in this text as suggesting that those who say ‘I follow Christ’ are in fact the one group of people in this situation who are correct in relation to the matter being debated. This is because they alone follow the one (Christ) who is both shepherd and the single door into eternal life, rather than following those who are merely shepherds (such as Paul and Apollos) but not doors themselves. Commenting elsewhere on 1 Corinthians 1, Augustine emphasizes that ‘your sins are not forgiven in the name of Donatus, or Augustine, or any one else, but in the name of Christ’.22 In a similar vein, he reminds Christians that even the greatest of pastors only serve to point towards the foundation of Christian faith: ‘Of his apostles we can say, “we believe Paul,” but not, “we believe on Paul.” ’23 Pastoral ministry involves a fundamental recognition that Christians are to be urged to follow Christ and not others. In Augustine’s thinking, this recognition is joined to his understanding of how the ‘loves’ of human beings operate. Augustine believes that God has created humans and the world we inhabit as a system of ordered objects that we might love, to a greater or lesser degree.24 We ought to love God above all things, and secondarily love other objects as they relate to, mirror, prompt or support our love of God. Therefore, it is right to love some things more strongly than others, and to love different people and things in various differentiated ways, which relate to Augustine’s economy of loves. In the fallen state, however, human loves have an unavoidable tendency to become disordered and distorted in relation to the divine design, such that people tend to love things out of order and, above all, love created things rather than the Creator. This can happen even within the Church, and according to Augustine

18 Ibid., 80.2 (NPNF1 7:344). 19 Ibid., 10.7 (NPNF1 7:71). 20 Augustine, Expositions on the Book of Psalms 125.6 (NPNF1 1:601). 21 Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel According to St. John 47.3 (NPNF1 7:261). 22 Augustine, Homilies on the First Epistle of John 2.4 (NPNF1 7:471). 23 Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel According to St. John 29.6 (NPNF17:184). 24 Augustine articulates his conception of disordered human affections in a number of places in his works. Examples include City of God 15.22 (NPNF1 2:303) and On Christian Doctrine 1.27.28 (NPNF1 2:530).

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the appropriate response is to administer to ourselves and to those under our care a strong dose of Pauline humility. This is what Augustine does in his exposition of Psalm 97. Here, he critiques the human tendency to love and worship things that are less than God, and to glorify humanity for humanity’s own sake rather than for God’s benefit. Augustine’s discussion primarily revolves around the account of Paul being worshipped together with Barnabas by Gentile admirers in Acts 14.14–15, and their dramatic, horrified response to the crowd: this is the kind of sharp response that pastors since must also always give to the adulation that can come their way.25 In Book I of his On Christian Doctrine, Augustine makes the point that people should not find their ultimate satisfaction in one another rather than in God, even in Christian contexts, and even in relation to great Christian examples, and he points out that this is why Paul says what he does in 1 Cor. 1.13: For if we find our happiness complete in one another, we stop short upon the road, and place our hope of happiness in man or angel . . . ‘Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized into Paul’s name?’ . . . But when you have joy of a man in God, it is God rather than man that you enjoy. For you enjoy Him by whom you are made happy, and you rejoice to have come to Him in whose presence you place your hope of joy. But as Paul says to Philemon, ‘let me rejoice in you in the Lord.’26

Augustine is arguing that human beings can love and appreciate one another, including pastors and leaders, provided this is in the context of a God-given reality. For example, in discussing Paul’s relationships with Timothy and Titus, Augustine indicates that, on the one hand, Christian leaders can and should teach and set themselves forward as models for others (as Paul does for Timothy and Titus, who in turn do so for others), but on the other hand, it is the Holy Spirit who is the one true teacher and shaper of us all.27 Given that Augustine’s Pauline pastors are to glorify Christ rather than themselves, they are also to take care that their selfishness does not find expression in a tendency to serve themselves rather than those under their care. Augustine has left to posterity one short sermon on the topic of the pastorate, and the theme of feeder-ship, specifically feeding others rather than oneself, is the focus of this particular piece.28 The sermon concentrates on pastoral texts from the Old Testament prophets and the Psalter, along with some Johannine references; however, Paul does feature occasionally as a positive example of someone who selflessly feeds the sheep rather than serve his own interests. Interestingly, very few references are made in this sermon to that part of the Pauline corpus that might be assumed

25 26 27 28

Augustine, Expositions on the Book of Psalms 97.10 (NPNF1 1:447). Augustine, On Christian Doctrine 1.33.36–7 (NPNF1 2:532–33). Ibid., 4.16.33 (NPNF1 2:585). Augustine, Sermons on Selected Lessons of the New Testament 47 (NPNF1 6:405–6).

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to deal most directly with the work of pastors, the ‘Pastoral’ epistles. Instead, it is Paul’s self-reflections upon his own ministry in the Corinthian correspondence that mostly feature.29 This is unsurprising, given that in these letters, Paul comments frequently on his own generous service of his readers in contradistinction to others. Elsewhere in his writings, Augustine indicates that this sacrificially generous Pauline humility is to be expressed in following Paul’s example of working hard and avoiding being a burden to others30 and showing openness to the ultimate sacrifice of death for God’s people.31 However, it by no means precludes administering a Pauline-style rebuke on occasion in the interests of the safety of the sheep.32 For Augustine, Pauline humility also involves a kind of frank vulnerability with respect to our own sinfulness and need for salvation, which invites fellow sinners to see themselves in the same way before God.33 Preaching on 1 John, he says: See how he also, in regard that he became so widely known did not set the good in his own praise, but in the praise of God. And as for him, in his own person, that he was one who laid waste the Church, a persecutor, envious, malignant, it is himself that confesses this, not we that reproach him therewith. Paul loves to have his sins spoken of by us, that He may be glorified who healed such a disease. For it was the hand of the Physician that cut and healed the greatness of the sore. That voice from heaven prostrated the persecutor, and raised up the preacher; killed Saul, and quickened Paul. For Saul was the persecutor of a holy man; thence had this man his name, when he persecuted the Christians: afterward of Saul he became Paul. What does the name Paulus mean? Little. Therefore when he was Saul, he was proud, lifted up; when he was Paul, he was lowly, little.

Here Augustine makes commonplace reference to the significance of Paul’s change of name with respect to a personal transition from pride to humility, but prior to this he spoke approvingly of an almost embarrassing Pauline tendency to have others speak of his sins for the glory of God. On this point, at least, we might observe that Augustine in this place does make some connection between the kind of sin-grace themes that predominate in his anti-Pelagian writings, and in his more pastoral sermons and exegetical works. Paul’s humility, like Peter’s, begins for Augustine when he ceases to be a proud Jew. According to Augustine, the Jewish leaders particularly are stock examples of proud pastors, whereas Paul, who was once like them and one of them, is to be

29 For example, ibid., 46.2 (NPNF1 6:408). 30 Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel According to St. John 122.2 (NPNF1 7:439). 31 Augustine, Sermons on Selected Lessons of the New Testament 6.2 (NPNF1 6:274). 32 For example, Augustine, Expositions on the Book of Psalms 78.10 (NPNF1 1:291). 33 In addition to this example, see also Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel According to St. John 41.10 (NPNF1 7:233).

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praised for having traded his Jewish pride for Christian humility.34 Indeed, Paul is the paradigmatic case of a proud Jew whom Christ turns into a humble person, and in this he is an example to all Christians, but particularly to pastors, who should remember the warning of the removed Jewish olive branches of Rom. 11.35 Paul transitioned from being a ‘wolf ’ who devoured God’s true people to become a faithful dog: a dog on account of his Jewishness, in Augustine’s view; however, Augustine clearly believed that it was far better to be a humble sheepdog that assists the shepherd than a proud wolf.36 Seen in its late-antique context, Augustine’s focus on Paul the humble pastor stands out in certain ways. There were certainly other well-known bishops who urged the importance of humility on the pastorate, such as John Chrysostom, but this was less common in the Latin West, where Augustine was based. For example, Augustine’s well-known contemporary Ambrose of Milan recommends humility to pastors in his work On the Priesthood, but what he says is rather different to Augustine; we find little that is Christocentric in Ambrose, who is primarily concerned with observable external behaviours rather than internal motivations and loves. Ambrose is very concerned, for instance, to see that pastors walk with an appropriate gait.37 Arguably, Augustine’s input on this is more helpful than the Ambrosian kind, as the latter runs the risk of entering into a Pharisaic approach to Christian leadership, where outward appearance comes to matter more than inward purity. Living as a pastor should begin for Augustine with a recognition that Christ is the shepherd doing the work, not the pastor, and that this work starts with our own hearts: ‘Yes’, he says, ‘in the church it is the clergy who speak and the laypeople who hear and act . . . but within, where no-one can see, we are all hearers’, clergy and laity alike.38 In the same way that he criticizes the proud leaders of the Jews, Augustine also attacks the Donatist bishops of his North African context specifically for their pride: for being too proud to recognize that because most of the Christian world does not share their views, they ought to reconsider them. A  social factor in the background here is that late-Roman society was not just more hierarchical than ours, it was becoming more unequal over time as the new order of the Middle Ages was approaching.39 The legal changes wrought by Emperor Theodosius I were enacted, in the main, only a little more than a decade before Augustine became a bishop, and had the effect of privileging those in positions of Christian leadership within society. In Roman Africa during the latter two-thirds

34 For example, Augustine, Sermons on Selected Lessons of the New Testament 27 (NPNF1 6:342ff ). 35 Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel According to St. John 54.1 (NPNF1 7:295). 36 Augustine, Expositions on the Book of Psalms 58.1.14 (NPNF1 1:234). 37 Ambrose, On the Priesthood 1.18.73–74 (NPNF2 10:13). 38 Augustine, Sermons on Selected Lessons of the New Testament 79.7 (NPNF1 6:497). 39 Claudia Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity: The Nature of Christian Leadership in an Age of Transition (Oakland: University of California Press, 2005), 6–11.

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of Augustine’s episcopate, the provincial authorities were exerting their powers to assist the Catholic bishops against the Donatists.40 So the importance of emphasizing humility among the increasingly elevated pastor-bishops of Augustine’s context was both unsurprising and of vital importance, and we often find him urging his colleagues along the following lines: ‘O preacher, turn people to love Christ rather than to love yourself.’41 One place where we might expect Augustine to say much about the pastorate is in the fourth and final book of his De Doctrina Christiana (‘On Christian Doctrine’), as his aim here was to give advice on preaching from the Bible, a key element of the pastoral work. However, Paul is conspicuously absent in most of Book Four, before making an extended appearance in one section. Here Augustine utilizes Paul with a single aim in mind, as the almost sole biblical example of the three styles of public speaking which Augustine has carried over from classical Latin rhetorical practice.42 Kolbet argues that Augustine, in using Paul in this way, thoughtfully Christianizes the model.43 However, this conclusion appears to be doubtful. Augustine mostly quotes Paul at great length without commentary or adaptation, as if the selections proffered of his speech self-evidently illustrated the three styles.44 He does not make theological observations on Paul’s practice, nor does he comment on how Paul might adjust to or differ from the non-Christian rhetorical models he relates Paul to. We are left with Paul sounding a bit like a Christian Cicero, even though certainly Augustine would have his preacher functioning quite differently to the great Roman orator on the inside.45 In considering Augustine’s portrait of Paul as pastor, then, we might conclude by noting that his is a less perfect picture than we might like. Augustine, at least on one point, arguably gives a bit too much ground to the predominant non-Christian forms of his cultural context. Also, even though there is a certain consistency between his great anti-Pelagian statements on the grace of God and his emphasis on humbly remembering that it is Christ and his Holy Spirit who ultimately does the work, and not ourselves or human pastors, these two things are not tied in so tightly as to gain the full endorsement of those who live by the dictum that pastoral practice and theological convictions ought to go hand-in-glove. Of course, Augustine might at this point apply his own advice drawn from his picture of Paul the pastor, that in these matters we follow Christ and not others, not even the imperfect example of Augustine himself. Augustine’s primary positive

40 Brown, Augustine, 335–37. 41 Augustine, Sermons on Selected Lessons of the New Testament 8.2 (NPNF1 6:284). 42 Augustine, On Christian Doctrine 4.20.39–44 (NPNF1 2:587–90). 43 Kolbet, Augustine, 141ff. 44 For example, in On Christian Doctrine 4.20.40–1 (NPNF1 2:588), Augustine discusses nothing other than stylistic features of Paul’s writings, and in most places he simply places one or two sentences of introduction to rhetorical features between selected quotations from Paul. This is hardly the work of someone who is reflectively adapting his materials! 45 Augustine, On Christian Doctrine 4.20.41 (NPNF1 2:588).

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perspective regarding Pauline pastors on humility is a relatively simple idea, lacking the kind of profundity we might normally expect from Augustine. This raises a question: given that there is so much more that a subtle thinker such as Augustine could have said in relation to Paul as pastor, we might ask why he says so much about humility when applying Paul to pastors, and so little about anything else. A possible answer is found in the fact that the references within Augustine’s writings that refer to Paul as pastor, and have been discussed in this chapter, are mostly from the older Augustine: the man more than fifty years of age who has been a pastor, and a pastor of pastors, for many years. Augustine speaks and writes so much about the importance of humbly pastoring under Christ, because he appreciates that the pastor’s heart so easily turns towards itself, to other men and women and to faith in our own exercise of our own ministry, and it so easily forgets that it is only Christ working through us who does the work. This insight of Augustine’s into how Paul as pastor can encourage others to be better pastors is, of course, of perennial relevance. Like Augustine, pastors today can still usefully ask themselves whether their loves are rightly ordered, and whether they are pastoring others in a way that helps people reorder their loves, which have been disordered by sin, such that Christ and no other person, not even the most famous of apostles, stands at the centre.

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Chapter 14 ‘ H E F O L L OW E D P AU L’ :   W H I T E F I E L D’ S H E R O IC , A P O ST O L IC A N D P R O P H E T I C   V OIC E Rhys S. Bezzant

George Whitefield (1714–1770) demonstrated a keen awareness of his own place in some greater plan when he expostulated to his sister while still a youth: ‘God intends something for me which we know not of.’1 He play-acted being an Anglican vicar long before his own calling to ministry.2 Indeed, on the day after his ordination as deacon in Gloucester Cathedral in 1736, Whitefield experienced a calling from God during his daily devotions. In his soul, he heard the words ‘Speak out, Paul’, which confirmed his new identity and ministry as cleric.3 Consequently, like many Christians in the course of history (e.g. Ignatius of Antioch and Calvin of Geneva), Whitefield gave shape to this nascent sense of vocation by constructing his own (early) autobiographical reflections in his Journals around the experiences of the apostle Paul: his dramatic conversion on the Damascus Road, cross-cultural commitments, itinerancy, imperial travels and dignity in suffering.4 Since the dissolution of the monasteries in Reformation England, new justification was necessary for an itinerant evangelistic ministry among clergy beyond the parish, which was provided to Whitefield through his Pauline sense of vocation. The poet William Cowper confirmed such a calling in these words from the poem Hope: Paul’s love of Christ, and steadiness unbrib’d, Were copied close in him [Whitefield], and well transcrib’d. 1 George Whitefield, George Whitefield’s Journals:  A  New Edition Containing Fuller Material Than Any Hitherto Published (Guildford and London:  Banner of Truth Trust, 1960), 42. 2 Ibid., 38. 3 Jerome Dean Mahaffey, Preaching Politics: The Religious Rhetoric of George Whitefield and the Founding of a New Nation, Studies in Rhetoric and Religion 3 (Waco:  Baylor University Press, 2007), 33. 4 Ian J. Maddock, Men of One Book: A Comparison of Two Methodist Preachers, John Wesley and George Whitefield (Eugene: Pickwick, 2011), 47–49; and Emma Salgård Cunha, ‘Whitefield and Literary Affect’, in George Whitefield: Life, Context, and Legacy, ed. Geordan Hammond and David Ceri Jones (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 199.

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He followed Paul – his zeal a kindred flame, His apostolic charity the same. Like him, cross’d cheerfully tempestuous seas, Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease; Like him he labour’d, and, like him, content To bear it, suffer’d shame where’er he went.5 This chapter investigates the Pauline pastoral identity of Whitefield. By leveraging Jonathan Edwards’s relationship with Whitefield and the invitation to come to preach in Northampton during Whitefield’s second tour of the American colonies (1739–1741), my intent is to unpack the ways in which Whitefield’s voice, known for its power to attract and hold massive audiences, reflected initially a primitivist Pauline persona. However, over time this persona was accommodated to revivalist and American contingencies, which peeled layers off his early identity to reveal more substantial oral and spatial self-understanding. Summarizing his Protestant convictions in terms of the new birth, Whitefield gave voice to modern democratic impulses as well as to traditional claims of the Lord on his hearers. His mobile ministry ensured that his voice was heard near and far, connecting people on both sides of the Atlantic in his own person, with the result that his pastoral identity was conceived spatially. As Hempton so eloquently says, ‘The worldwide expansion of Christianity [in the eighteenth century] . . . was carried out by men and women who employed spiritual discipline to construct selves able to travel and to promote heart religion in new locations.’6 Whitefield was a force of modernity to be reckoned with, whose generic Pauline and Protestant identity was informed further by distinctive evangelical convictions and practices.

1. Whitefield’s voice: Expectation of the heroic Jonathan Edwards (1703–1758) had led his congregation in Northampton, Massachusetts, through a significant experience of revival in 1734–1735, provoked by preaching a sermon series on the doctrine of justification. His later reflections on that significant moment were first published in England, under the title The Faithful Narrative of a Surprising Work of God (1737). Though the details and timing of the revival may have been surprising, Edwards, with many of his Puritan colleagues, had worked tirelessly over several generations to be part of just such an outpouring of the Spirit, with its ensuing impact on town and church. In this very narrative, he related, among other reflections, the conversion experiences of a young woman, Abigail Hutchinson, and a four-year-old girl, Phebe Bartlet, to

5 As quoted in James Downey, The Eighteenth Century Pulpit: A Study of the Sermons of Butler, Berkeley, Secker, Sterne, Whitefield and Wesley (Oxford: Clarendon, 1969), 187. 6 David Hempton, The Church in the Long Eighteenth Century, The I. B. Tauris History of the Christian Church (London: I. B. Tauris, 2011), 55.

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demonstrate both the reality of the work of God and the ways in which those without social power could turn expectations upside down by offering a model of piety to emulate. It was almost despite Edwards’s own traditional and hierarchically sanctioned ministry that God did something remarkable in them.7 Unfortunately, the zeal produced by this reviving moment seemed not to last – the pamphlet was published at just the time when fervour was abating. Over the next few years, in order that he might, through intensified explanation and application, rekindle the now almost extinguished flames of revival, Edwards adopted a new kind of homiletic strategy, in which he preached longer series from shorter texts, for example ‘Charity and its Fruits’ (1738) and ‘The History of the Work of Redemption’ (1739). The results were meagre. During his 1739–1741 preaching tour of North America, Whitefield’s reputation as the Grand Sower brought him to preach in Northampton, where Edwards had already read of his exploits upon receiving an advance copy of the Journals.8 Whitefield’s written voice and agenda preceded him to Northampton. The prospect of Whitefield visiting Northampton was, for Edwards, a divinely appointed and dramatic opportunity to invoke another strategy to challenge his congregation’s backsliding. Edwards believed that the hearts of his people were commensurately harder, because they had been long blessed with great preaching, not just by him, but also previously by his maternal grandfather, Solomon Stoddard, known as the pope of the Connecticut River valley, who had overseen five ‘harvests’ during his long pastorate. Perhaps out of a sense of desperation, certainly knowing that Whitefield, as a Church of England clergyman, was provoking strong reactions in Anglican circles in Britain and Congregationalist circles in New England, Edwards wrote to him in February 1740 to ask him to come to Northampton to preach in the summer of that year. The phrasing is both wishful and bold:  ‘[Y]ou are the one that has the blessing of heaven attending you wherever you go; and I have a great desire, if it may be the will of God, that such a blessing as attends your person and labors may descend on this town, and may enter mine own house, and I may receive it in my own soul.’9 In this quotation, we are presented with spheres of decreasing circumference, with the last being personal impact. For Edwards welcomes Whitefield’s ministry in the town of Northampton, in his parsonage, and ultimately into his own heart, as in days past God’s glory had descended to fill the tabernacle or temple. In areas of social reality traditionally defined by their stable

7 Harry S. Stout, The New England Soul:  Preaching and Religious Culture in Colonial New England (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), 189. 8 George Whitefield, ‘B5. Letter, November 16, 1739’, in Correspondence by, to, and about Edwards and His Family, vol. 32 of The Works of Jonathan Edwards Online (Yale University : Jonathan Edwards Center). 9 Jonathan Edwards, ‘23. Letter to the Reverend George Whitefield, February 12, 1739/ 40’, in Letters and Personal Writings, vol. 16 of The Works of Jonathan Edwards, ed. George S. Claghorn (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), 80.

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hierarchical form (government, church, family and soul),10 Edwards looks forward to the disturbing power of Whitefield’s controversial itinerancy. Edwards’s letter went on to explain that New England, contrary to its own illustrious history, is a wicked place in need of powerful intervention, and he warned Whitefield that he might be ‘disappointed . . . and have less success here than in other places’.11 Edwards used imagery and rhetoric that interpreted Whitefield’s labours as heroic, and gave Edwards reason to persevere despite his own flagging spirits. In speaking of Whitefield, Edwards remarked that God had made ‘the weapons of your warfare mighty’, so he prayed: May you go on, reverend Sir! and may God be with you more and more abundantly, that the work of God may be carried on by a blessing on your labors still, with that swift progress that it has been hitherto, and rise to a greater height, and extend further and further, with an irresistible power bearing down all opposition! and may the gates of hell never be able to prevail against you! and may God send forth more laborers into his harvest of a like spirit, until the kingdom of Satan shall shake, and his proud empire fall throughout the earth and the kingdom of Christ, that glorious kingdom of light, holiness, peace and love, shall be established from one end of the earth unto the other!12

With military metaphors and a triumphalist tone, Edwards fully expected that Whitefield would come to Northampton to prevail against all foes. In his own Journals, Whitefield was not averse to describing his own ministry in such terms too.13 In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus describes the church being more powerful than the gates of Hades (Mt. 16.18); remarkably, here it is Whitefield who, apparently single-handedly and representing the church, will hold the field and defeat Satan. Edwards yearned that ‘God would bestow much of that blessed Spirit on me that he has bestowed on you, and make me also an instrument of his glory’.14 Though Whitefield was ten years younger, there is something in this exchange that gives the impression that Edwards, almost childishly, somewhat cravenly, looked up to Whitefield as his model and hope, for his own authority in Northampton seemed no longer to be having the same manly, warrior-like impact. Indeed, after the invitation but before Whitefield’s arrival, between April and May of 1740, Edwards had preached a seven-part series from Heb. 12.22– 24, in which the saints on their journey in this world look forward to arriving

10 E. Brooks Holifield, A History of Pastoral Care in America: From Salvation to SelfRealization (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 1983), 69. 11 Edwards, ‘23. Letter to Whitefield’, WJE 16:80. 12 Edwards, ‘23. Letter to Whitefield’, WJE 16:80–81. 13 On his New England tour of 1740, he described his preaching in Brookfield, just a couple of days before landing in Northampton, in these terms: ‘I was exceedingly enlarged, and was enabled, as it were, to take the Kingdom by force’; Whitefield, Journals, 475. 14 Edwards, ‘23. Letter to Whitefield’, WJE 16:81.

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at their destination in Zion, perhaps an inkling as to Edwards’s own hopes and expectations of Whitefield’s visit. This letter, more like a declaration of war than an invitation to preach, provides a profound insight into the dynamics of pastoral identity in the early revival period in New England. Traditional clerical identity appears impotent, for the selfsufficiency of parishioners (stiff-necked and idolatrous, like the Israelites awaiting Moses at the foot of the mountain) required a double portion of mercy to overcome: ‘We who have dwelt in a land that has been distinguished by light, and have long enjoyed the gospel, and have been glutted with it, and have despised it, are I fear more hardened than most of those places where you have preached hitherto.’15 Perhaps Whitefield would be the one who could secure a second set of the tablets of the law, and provide for the recidivist people of New England what Edwards could not. Perhaps Whitefield’s own charismatic authority, like Moses glowing after an encounter with Yahweh, would be sufficient to ‘revive the flame again, even in the darkest times’,16 and in such a way demonstrate the power of the new covenant by which the ministry of the Spirit comes with glory (see 2 Cor. 3–4).17 Marini has argued that American evangelicalism has been fascinated with the hierophantic, the dazzling inbreaking of God into the world, often through anointed intermediaries.18 This letter from Edwards to Whitefield gives just such an example of the growing expectation that God, in his providence, will raise up heroes to take the field and conquer. Perhaps only apostolic credentials would help.

2. Whitefield’s voice: Moving beyond the apostolic a. Whitefield and Pauline exemplarity Whitefield at first obliged. He travelled throughout Britain and her North American empire preaching classic Protestant and Pauline doctrines.19 Like Paul,

15 Edwards, ‘23. Letter to Whitefield’, WJE 16:80. 16 Ibid. 17 See Timothy Luckritz Marquis, Transient Apostle: Paul, Travel, and the Rhetoric of Empire (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013), 104, for further discussion of the ways in which Moses models for Paul ministerial identity. 18 Stephen Marini, ‘Hymnody as History: Early Evangelical Hymns and the Recovery of American Popular Religion’, CH 71 (2002):  273–306. Edwards’s approach to Whitefield suggests not so much the growing local power of the clergy, as Jon Butler has repeatedly argued, but instead the confidence and impervious spiritual demeanour of the laity, which reflexively invites ministerial defensiveness or reorganization, whether in formal associations or informal collaborations, as witnessed in this letter. See George W. Harper, ‘Clericalism and Revival: The Great Awakening in Boston as a Pastoral Phenomenon’, New England Quarterly 57 (1984): 554–66, esp. 555–57. 19 The crossing of the Atlantic became for Whitefield a picture of the new birth, for in using the language of light similar to his relation of conversion, he describes how at sea

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a single man whose opposition to the sale of idols in Ephesus had resulted in riots, Whitefield in the Journals recounts the opposition he, a single man, faced, not least from those economically threatened by his fulminating against theatres, taverns and consumer goods.20 When arriving in a new town, he first went to the Anglican church, and if they would not receive him, he offered his services to other churches or preached out of doors, as Paul had first preached to the Jews, and only then to the Gentiles. Indeed, Whitefield’s revivalist preaching of 1739–1741 issued a challenge to any unconverted clergy, especially those of the Church of England, in reverse jeremiad style, to accept the new birth.21 As Stout and Onuf point out, what began with the expectation of a renewal of the ‘religious foundations of communal life’ quickly became an attack on the established church itself.22 Like Paul, Whitefield took up collections during his travels, in this case for the establishment of an orphan house for poor boys, making the centre of his itinerating empire not Jerusalem, nor even London, but Savannah, Georgia. This nascent institution on the periphery of Empire would be viewed as insignificant in the eyes of the world, but not for Whitefield. Indeed, Reginald Ward draws our attention to the remarkable fact that so much of eighteenth-century revivalism was birthed not at the centre of power, but in the provinces, or at the margins.23 Whitefield’s own safe arrival in Ireland after a shipwreck was interpreted providentially, just as Paul had survived the wrath of the sea.24 This kind of Pauline primitivism reinforced Whitefield’s sense of destiny. After his

he was saved from storms and danger and enjoyed a power mightier than the power of nature: ‘Blessed be God, this morning the storm began to blow over, and light broke in upon my soul’; Whitefield, Journals, 139. For further explanation, see Mahaffey, Preaching Politics, 194, and Harry S. Stout, ‘Religion, Communications, and the Career of George Whitefield’, in Communication and Change in American Religious History, ed. Leonard I. Sweet (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 116. 20 See Frank Lambert, “Pedlar in Divinity”: George Whitefield and the Transatlantic Revivals (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 153. Whitefield faced threats to his life frequently, only just escaping an assassination attempt in the summer of 1744 that may have been prompted by Anglican opposition. See Mahaffey, Preaching Politics, 122–23. 21 See David Harlan, The Clergy and the Great Awakening in New England, Studies in American History and Culture 15 (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1979), 6–7, 13. 22 Harry S. Stout and Peter Onuf, ‘James Davenport and the Great Awakening in New London’, Journal of American History 70 (1983): 556–78, esp. 558–59. 23 For example, the Wesleys were impacted by the ministrations of Moravians fleeing persecution. The Salzburgers, living on the border of the German Empire, lived in a kind of twilight world of authority. The poor in Britain, for whom John Wesley felt such responsibility, were economically marginalized. This is a leading theme in W. Reginald Ward, The Protestant Evangelical Awakening (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). 24 Mahaffey, Preaching Politics, 40.

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death, eulogies highlighted apostolic themes. Mr Ellington of Savannah, on 11 November 1770, made the parallel explicit by taking up the phrasing of 2 Corinthians 6: But of Mr Whitefield we may say, with the strictest truth, in journeyings often, in perils of water, in perils of robbers, in perils of his own countrymen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren, in weariness and faithfulness, he hath approved himself a minister of God.25

Gillies gives a larger-than-life account of the man as a summary of the funeral homilies he had collected: They pay in the purest and scarcest coin, the debt of gratitude due to this spiritual soldier for his heroic and self-sacrificing perseverance . . . That devout and affectionate veneration which would have led throngs to bathe WHITEFIELD’S feet in their tears, never exists for any merely earthly hero.26

Amazingly, the apostolic has been transformed into the dominical. Whitefield is no longer merely the grand itinerant; his heroic sacrifice is almost on a par with that of the Lord Jesus himself, for Whitefield’s feet we would also wash with our tears. At the beginning of his Journals, he had pointed out that he too was born in an inn! Despite such lingering hagiography, Whitefield had already sensed by the middle of the 1740s that his primitivist apostolic identity distorted his ministry. His aggressive theological opposition to the doctrinal compromise of Harvard and Yale in 1740–1741 had met with their rigorous opposition on his return visit to New England in 1744, though by then he had decided not to preach denunciatory jeremiads against the clergy any longer. He made clear that he had returned in ‘another spirit’,27 a strategically important turn, given the war-footing of the colonies, the suspicions he had aroused as an Anglican evangelist (potentially a spy for the Church of England) and the church schisms he had prompted.28 Accepting

25 John Gillies, Memoirs of Rev. George Whitefield: Revised and Corrected, with Large Additions and Improvements, to which Is Appended an Extensive Collection of His Sermons and Other Writings (New Haven: Whitmore & Buckingham and H. Mansfield, 1834), 240. 26 Ibid., 255. 27 Jerome Dean Mahaffey, The Accidental Revolutionary:  George Whitefield and the Creation of America (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2011), 90–92. 28 He ultimately recognized too that his own legacy was impaired, as he had created no connections, as the Wesleyan Methodists had done, but could only claim a loose collection of followers who were of no more use than ‘a rope of sand’; quoted in Downey, The Eighteenth Century Pulpit, 155. Indeed, the orphan house itself didn’t endure much beyond Whitefield’s death in 1770, as neither he nor the Countess of Huntingdon (who took over

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his part in the bad reputation of the revivals, he expostulated in a letter to a friend in 1748: Alas! alas! In how many things have I judged and acted wrong – I have been too rash and hasty in giving characters, both of places and persons. Being fond of Scripture language, I have often used a style too apostolical, and at the same time I have been too bitter in my zeal. Wild-fire has been mixed with it, and I find that I frequently wrote and spoke in my own spirit, when I thought I was writing and speaking by the assistance of the spirit of God.29

From the outset, Whitefield had claimed a parallel with the shape of Paul’s ministry, but had nonetheless proceeded on a narrower footing than the narratives describing the call of Paul from the book of Acts would permit, for nowhere in those accounts is Paul’s vocation defined merely by ‘speaking out’. The voice that Whitefield heard highlighted only a part of Paul’s task. Beyond merely speaking, Paul had to bear the name and suffer for it (Acts 9.15), or be a witness (22.15), or serve and testify and thereby open eyes (26.16–18), which may have had an oral component and contained preaching, but was certainly more than that. The goal of Paul’s ministry, not just the activity itself, is highlighted in Acts. Whitefield had been powerfully formed by the example of Paul, his conversion, lifestyle, doctrine and stratagems, and though this literal kind of primitivism was attractive in terms of the public persona he was cultivating, and was a common hermeneutic in New England, it was bound in the end to create tension with the lived reality of his own ministry in its eighteenth-century context. Whitefield had taken to heart the call heard after his ordination, but had perhaps overemphasized Paul’s labours in preaching. Perhaps the divine voice asked him not just to ‘speak out’, in crude imitation of the apostle, but instead appealed to him to look to the apostle for homiletic motivation. It might be more useful to present Whitefield’s operational pastoral identity as a subset of his espoused Pauline self-understanding.30 Whitefield’s pastoral identity was essentially oral.

control) were able in their leadership to make the transition from an era of personal patronage to institutional stability. See John Thomas Scott, ‘The Final Effort to Fulfill George Whitefield’s Bequest: The Bethesda Mission of 1790–1792’, Georgia Historical Quarterly 89 (2005): 433–61, esp. 459–61. 29 As quoted in Mahaffey, Accidental Revolutionary, 121. 30 Other revivalists could claim Pauline identity at some level: Edwards preached his farewell sermon in Northampton effectively in the voice of Paul from 2 Corinthians, while John Wesley has often been represented wearing Pauline clothes. See Jonathan Edwards, ‘A Farewell Sermon Preached at the First Precinct in Northampton, after the People’s Public Rejection of their Minister . . . on June 22, 1750’, in Sermons and Discourses, 1743–1758, vol. 25 of WJE, and Maddock, Men of One Book, 56–57.

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b. Whitefield and oral identity Whitefield, by temperament, training and calling, was uniquely fitted to be a preacher. His physical makeup was used powerfully by God. His sonorous voice could be heard by thirty thousand, according to the estimation of Ben Franklin,31 and his intensifying squint, rather than being a distraction, made everyone think that he was looking straight at them! His background in the theatre, though frequently denouncing its pleasures in sermons, provided him with the dramatic resources and skills needed when preaching in fields. His sense of destiny contributed to his heroic disposition when faced with verbal threats and opposition, which he seemed to enjoy, and which contributed further to his identity when, through preaching, he vanquished his opponents.32 He spoke out, as divinely directed, and experienced blessing on his ministry. His voice was God’s voice, borne forth by the Spirit. Mahaffey boldly states that Whitefield ‘operated chiefly in the oral sphere’.33 Direct speech was Whitefield’s preferred practice, and the published sermons that we still have reflect his rhetorical flourishes and homiletic skills. In directly confronting a crowd and noting the reaction of his listeners/watchers, Whitefield had the opportunity to make his points clearer on the run, and thereby to push home the application of his sermon in timely ways, especially given the environmental constraints of his audience. Though his sermons were monologic in form, observing reactions, perhaps especially those of his opponents, led to subtle changes in his delivery, making his public speech implicitly dialogical, empowering the auditory even if this went unrecognized: Without a manuscript, he was also free to adapt his sermons to the special situation of each audience as his relationship with them unfolded in the performance. He could change directions as he sensed a need. Whitefield could now genuinely interact with people who were accustomed to listening to a sermon, not participating in one . . . Whitefield spoke in a way people had never experienced.34

Though all speech is essentially ephemeral, unlike the lasting qualities of print, it more than makes up for this shortcoming by adding intensity and relational urgency to the communication event.35 Whitefield’s relationship with the crowds 31 Stout, The New England Soul, 190. 32 Nancy Ruttenburg, ‘George Whitefield, Spectacular Conversion, and the Rise of Democratic Personality’, American Literary History 5 (1993):  429–58. Ruttenburg makes much of a gently psychological interpretation of Whitefield’s approach to opposition and threat. 33 Mahaffey, Accidental Revolutionary, 190. 34 Ibid., 21. 35 Though speech is impermanent, letter-writing in the eighteenth century was perceived as no less so:  it suffered from the insecurity of senders not being absolutely certain that mail would reach its destination. For further, see Konstantin Dierks, In My Power:  Letter Writing and Communications in Early America, Early American Studies

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was ‘unusually intimate’, leading to a style of homiletics both ‘candid and confessional’.36 As Stout points out, ‘In his revivals the power to speak was dispensed from beneath, in the voluntary initiative of the people assembling in extra institutional settings, thereby creating new models of authority and social order.’37 The primacy of orality in Whitefield can, of course, be contested. While Whitefield’s strategy was certainly to ‘print and preach’ – distributing sermons, tracts and advertisements in a town or locality as a kind of advance publicity before his entourage arrived, and frequently publishing editions of his sermons in the course of his ministry (in both England and America) further reinforced an interpretation of his identity built on the written word – these features of his itinerancy ought not to be allowed to disguise the primacy of the spoken word in his ministry. As Leonard Sweet avers, it was print culture that was novel and undermined ‘the power of traditional forms of face-to-face information transmission, influence and communal cohesion’.38 Traditional authority had been built not on the exchange of goods and services for money, but on loyalty for protection and provisions, requiring relationships of immediacy for communication. Even while Whitefield exploited new marketplace forces and was prepared to engage the reader as a consumer,39 he nonetheless aspired to connect immediately with his audiences through ‘straightforward, poignant language that called for immediate self-examination rather than theological discourses designed for reflection and debate’. Indeed, preaching the new birth among the revivalists was an appeal to an experience of immediacy and crisis generated by the presence of the preacher.40 c. Whitefield and divine presence The speech act, however, has a further dimension. Not only is it performative, creating a new reality through the very breathing of the words themselves, but it should be noted that oral performance also has spatial elements. Indeed, a spatial identity functions as an extension of an oral identity. A  speaking person can only be in one place at a time, and therefore is limited by spatial contingencies. Publishing (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009). Indeed, Marquis helpfully alerts us to the suspicion that traditionally had attached to writing, in cultures where it was not naturally seen as primary communication. For example, in the Phaedrus by Socrates, Thamis reports: ‘Indeed, you have invented [in writing] a drug not for memory but for reminding’ (275A), quoted in Marquis, Transient Apostle, 95. 36 Downey, The Eighteenth Century Pulpit, 165, 166. 37 Stout, The New England Soul, 193. 38 Leonard I.  Sweet, ‘Communication and Change in American Religious History: A Historiographic Probe’, in Sweet, Communication and Change, 16. 39 Lambert, “Pedlar in Divinity”, 80. Also Stout, ‘Religion, Communications’, 111. 40 Lambert, “Pedlar in Divinity”, 116, 21. Though the quotation in its context refers to Whitefield’s published sermons, it is no less true that in his oral communication he aspired to the same characteristics.

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obviates these constraints, but in Whitefield’s case does so by first acknowledging the three-dimensional restrictions that it is trying to transcend.41 The imperative of Whitefield’s call contains the word ‘out’, a spatial referent as much as an oral one in the word ‘speak’. His early commitment to make the world his parish is also essentially a spatial claim. As a land of migrants, the American colonies were ripe for a redefinition of Christian experience, for the geographically bound religious customs of Europe began to give way to new spatial realities, whether larger distances, separation from kith and kin, lack of centralized government or linguistic pluralism.42 Travel for Whitefield was an experience of growth described in spatial terms: ‘Going abroad, if duly improved, cannot but help to enlarge our ideas, and give us exalted thoughts of the greatness and goodness of God.’43 According to Mahaffey, Whitefield’s ministry could be summarized as a ‘transdenominational, international movement composed of an ecumenical community of like-minded believers within the British Empire, founded upon the conversion experience, whose religious practice emerged from an inward change of heart’.44 His oral identity was a proxy for a spatial one. His own practice of field preaching, which he introduced to a reticent John Wesley in April 1739, was similarly a factor in the development of his spatial identity. In England, Wales, Scotland and the colonies, Whitefield reengineered social realities (and clerical expectations) through preaching extemporaneous sermons to listeners whose position in the field did not reflect traditional social relationships. What is more, Whitefield’s accomplishments were explained using spatial categories; for example, he might ‘fill a space so large’ that his death would create ‘a mournful and irreparable void’. He was ‘felt so sensibly and widely’ during his life.45 In preaching the new birth, Whitefield used a spiritual metaphor, which itself depicted a new occupation of space, and when preaching outdoors had around him literally a geographic confirmation of its truth. Preaching the new birth provoked a decision, making connection with the ‘expansion of choice’ in the consumer revolution and the growing marketplace.46 The physical impact of Whitefield’s preaching, something like a force of nature, was better suited to those outdoor contexts as well.47 The word ‘uncontainability’ is Ruttenburg’s

41 Ibid., 107. 42 Mahaffey, Preaching Politics, 2. 43 Whitefield, Journals, 341. 44 Mahaffey, Preaching Politics, 41. 45 Gillies, Memoirs of Rev. George Whitefield, 255. 46 Lambert, “Pedlar in Divinity”, 167. Mahaffey describes the usefully ambiguous phrase, ‘New birth was a term sufficiently vague to encompass many meanings, yet sufficiently precise so as to convey both the travail and joy of the experience.’ See Mahaffey, Preaching Politics, 70. 47 Lisa Smith, The First Great Awakening in Colonial American Newspapers: A Shifting Story (Lanham: Lexington, 2012), 110, 113.

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descriptor for the cumulative impact of Whitefield’s words, voice, space and itinerancy.48 Hall remarks: The tropes Whitefield employed to describe his ministry emphasized openness, expansiveness, boundlessness, often alluding to the Pauline understanding of the Church as a translocal community.49

It is therefore very significant that Whitefield’s oral and spatial identity, transcending its apostolic foundations, can especially be mapped out in his use of the image of the tabernacle to expound his ministry. There are not many personal references in the approximately seventy-eight sermons that have been left to us,50 nor are they many incidents in the Journals that disclose the inward emotional or psychological development of the man,51 as a consequence of which the few tropes that we have are all the more precious. As the place where God’s glorious Spirit dwelt, above the ark that contained the tablets of the law in the Holy of Holies, the tabernacle co-located the words of God with the powerful presence of God. It literally enshrined God’s speech and his spatial accessibility, and of course through these tropes prefigured the incarnation of Christ, who according to John’s Gospel ‘tabernacled amongst us’, which Whitefield believed he could imitate as well.52 The tabernacle was a fitting metaphor for his mobile ministry and the divine immediacy mediated by him. Whitefield could ask his auditors to ‘forget the creature that is preaching’, because ‘I want to lead you further than the tabernacle . . . to Mount Calvary’.53 Salvation history demands progress, just as he demands that the focus move beyond himself as the portable shrine, to Christ himself. In imagining a world where the doctrine of justification by faith was defended by more than just him, he opined: ‘The ark of the Lord would not then be driven into the

48 Ruttenburg, ‘George Whitefield’, 440–41. In fact, while it often seems to be a random progress that is pursued by Whitefield in his Journals, it has been argued that there is actually method to his madness, an itinerary of epicycles such that a sequence of sermons is presented in one place over a number of days, allowing time for opposition to dissipate or soil to be better prepared before the itinerant’s return. His field preaching is not just occupying outdoor space, but is itself the planned and strategic subjection of that space. See Mahaffey, Preaching Politics, 45. 49 Timothy D. Hall, Contested Boundaries: Itinerancy and the Reshaping of the Colonial American Religious World (Durham: Duke University Press, 1994), 33. 50 Downey, The Eighteenth Century Pulpit, 156 n.1. 51 Lisa Smith makes this point with reference to the newspaper coverage of Whitefield during his first tour of America; Smith, First Great Awakening in Colonial American Newspapers, 115. 52 Whitefield, Journals, 474. 53 George Whitefield, ‘The Good Shepherd: A Farewell Sermon’, in Sermons of George Whitefield, ed. Evelyn Bence (Peabody : Hendrickson, 2009), 330.

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wilderness, nor would so many persons dissent from the Church of England.’54 His Moorfields church in London, built in a rough and violent area, was deliberately assigned the title of ‘tabernacle’, for he wanted to make clear that should persecution come, his congregants might have to vacate their building and move elsewhere.55 His own preaching in the fields embodied a kind of wilderness, where faithful Christians were being led by the presence of the Lord. His own experience of persecution is presented in such terms: The tabernacle of the Lord is already driven into the wilderness: the ark of the Lord is fallen into the unhallowed hands of uncircumcised Philistines . . . Men in power have been breathing out threatenings: we may easily guess what will follow, imprisonment and slaughter. The storm has been gathering some time; it must break shortly. Perhaps it may fall on me first.56

In other places, Whitefield uses the expression ‘outer court’ to describe seekers who are drawing close but have not yet been born again: ‘A natural man . . . goes no further than the outward court of the Scripture.’57 He challenges ‘deceived formalists . . .vainly puffed up with your model of performances’ to ‘awake, you outward-court worshipers: you are a building on a sandy foundation’.58 Making a parallel between the orphan house in Georgia and the temple being rebuilt by Zerubbabel under the encouragement of Zechariah, he argues that piety could only be expected to flourish there once pure worship was offered.59 Importantly, the markers of space, close or far, inner or outer, signalled a significant change from earlier Puritan mapping of the soul, which highlighted hierarchy. Now the soul might be understood not in terms of higher and lower, but through ‘an alternative metaphor: the image of surface and depth’, leading to reflection on ‘hidden affections’, ‘inward experiences’ and ‘inexplicable feelings’, even ‘inner chaos’.60 Without investigating beyond Whitefield’s Pauline or oral identity, we would miss this radically new democratic flag of evangelical self-conception.61 Whitefield’s oral identity and homiletic practice allowed him to promote a spatially freighted theology of divine presence, which created a confrontation with

54 Whitefield, ‘What think ye of Christ?’, ibid., 91. 55 Gillies, Memoirs of Rev. George Whitefield, 41, 68, 559. 56 Whitefield, ‘Persecution: Every Christian’s Lot’, in Bence, Sermons, 310. 57 Whitefield, ‘Blind Bartimeus’, ibid., 122. See also Thomas S. Kidd, George Whitefield: America’s Spiritual Founding Father (New Haven:  Yale University Press, 2014), 91, 105, 135. 58 Whitefield, ‘Christians, Temples of the Living God’, in Bence, Sermons, 280. 59 Whitefield, ‘Georgia Sermon’, ibid., 323. 60 Holifield, History of Pastoral Care in America, 80, 88, 94. 61 Of course, the apostle Paul himself builds on the type of the tabernacle, or temple, to present antitypical truths, but he seems to me to hold back from depicting his own ministry in these terms.

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the listeners, as befits a communication from the Lord, for directness has both oral and spatial features. He could say, for example: I trust I feel something of that hidden, but powerful, presence of Christ, while I am preaching to you. Indeed it is sweet; it is exceedingly comfortable . . . do not think worse of the doctrine, because it is preached without the church walls. Our Lord, in the days of his flesh, preached on a mount, in a ship, and a field; and I am persuaded, many have felt his gracious presence here.62

Whitefield, eschewing logic, therefore offered in his own person direct access to the very presence of God. Whitefield’s preaching style itself made a profound theological point, for it was in contrast to Puritan understanding of human psychology (called faculty psychology), in which human reason dominated, making rationality a bridge to the deepest parts of the soul. Whitefield’s emotional or affective preaching did not create a hierarchy of faculties but rather addressed the soul more immediately.63 In his Journals, he often presented himself in ways that denied his autonomy in order to highlight his pure agency: ‘Lord, I desire to have no choice of my own.’64 Lisa Smith astutely explains how Whitefield, in media reports during his first preaching tour, was portrayed not as someone providing, through his sermons, an opportunity for understanding, which may have been better achieved through the linear logic of a written text, but as a confrontation with divine power: They went to hear him in order to experience God – to feel the power of God as they shook, cried, and rejoiced. This is the aspect of Whitefield’s ministry that comes across most clearly in the papers and is why the charge of ‘enthusiasm’ was levelled so often against him.65

As a correlate, Smith also argues that the printed reports of controversy in which Whitefield was embroiled very rarely actually quoted his own words in defence of positions taken, to preserve his public identity as something powerfully visceral as distinct from something written and thereby tamed.66 However, it wasn’t that Whitefield imposed himself as the Lord’s courier on an unsuspecting people. Their ready engagement with he who bore God’s presence suggests instead a profound prior pastoral longing on the part of the people to know God’s intimate care and provision.67 His exalted pastoral identity could be heard when he said: ‘I come to you as the angel did to Lot.’68 On several occasions, he not only spoke God’s words to

62 63 64 65 66 67 68

Whitefield, ‘What think ye of Christ?’, 95–96. Holifield, History of Pastoral Care in America, 56–58, 60. Whitefield, Journals, 477. Smith, First Great Awakening in Colonial American Newspapers, 109. Ibid., 109–10. Harper, ‘Clericalism and Revival’, 564. Whitefield, ‘What think ye of Christ?’, 97.

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human beings, but was such a confidant of God that he could report back to his Master the reactions of the crowds: ‘Must I go to my Master and tell him you will not come unto him, and will have none of his counsels? No; do not send me on so unhappy an errand.’69 Close to error, Whitefield on one occasion almost purported to be the shepherd of the sheep: ‘He [God] comes now to sinners, as well as formerly; and, I hope, has sent me out this day to seek, and under him, to bring home some of you, the lost sheep of the house of Israel.’70 Ruttenburg even suggests that ‘Whitefield claimed to be so intimately affiliated with Him as to be for all practical purposes indistinguishable from Him.’71 His spatial identity is further witnessed when he refuses to allow the bishop of London the rights of appointment for his orphan house in Savannah, an example of trying desperately to keep the compromised Church of England out of American territory – the orphanage had come to represent symbolically much that was important to the revivalist’s colonial ambitions.72 His ministry was defined by neither covenant with a congregation nor identification with fellow clergy alone, but primarily through this nascent institution.73 Indeed, the neglect of covenant language in describing his ministry was distinct from his New England peers. Whitefield also lent his support for Sir William Pepperrell’s military expedition in 1745 to Louisbourg, which had the goal of protecting the Protestant colonies of Britain from the threats of the papist French armies; by writing the motto for the campaign and preaching the commissioning sermon, Whitefield gave further evidence of his growing sense of American nationalism. On top of this, the emergent capitalist culture was creating an anonymous market, something different from the social spheres of church, state or university, and though this new public space was not the result of Whitefield’s speaking, his intuitive use of this space meant that, to some degree, he could shape it as he chose: By addressing a mass audience through newspapers, Whitefield shifted religious discussion from a private sphere defined in denominational terms to a public arena where literate men and women employed their rational powers to judge among contending views.74

In this democratic space, critique of traditional authority could be exercised and new social identity constructed. Ultimately, his oral and spatial self-awareness significantly redefined his Pauline credentials without effacing them. 69 Whitefield, ‘Penitent Heart’, in Bence, Sermons, 157; similarly Whitefield, ‘Christ, the Only Preservative’, ibid., 291. 70 Whitefield, ‘Conversion of Zaccheus’, ibid., 181. 71 Ruttenburg, ‘George Whitefield’, 436. Whitefield encourages such a conclusion when he reports during his conversion that he had thrown himself down and, like Christ, called out ‘I thirst! I thirst!’; Whitefield, Journals, 58. 72 Lambert, “Pedlar in Divinity”, 207. 73 Harper, ‘Clericalism and Revival’, 560. 74 Lambert, “Pedlar in Divinity”, 170.

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Whitefield was in himself not just a powerful manifestation of the Lord, but in his communication, especially in the open air, he imposed a tabernacle-like frame of reference on the preaching event by force of personality. Though traditional structures like class have been displaced, in the field Whitefield regarded his preaching not as enthusiastically devoid of form, but rather structured by the Spirit. Though often accused of being divisive, in the field Whitefield unified people in a new metaphoric space. His pre-publicity created some measure of theological order in the minds of at least some of his hearers, for newspaper accounts of his preaching and preparations for his arrival were uniquely suited to the ephemeral nature of the preaching event. He was touted as ‘the most recent and greatest outpouring of God’s spirit since the Protestant Reformation’, but as with any spiritual encounter, the newspapers themselves that heralded the event were here today and gone tomorrow.75 While it was easy for his detractors to name him an enthusiast, a term he once claimed but later rejected, he did not reject all external authority, but renegotiated it in terms that gave a new role to the ‘privileges of the people within the bounds of established authority’. It was the Spirit who filled the space created by Whitefield’s preaching, granting to all who would avail themselves of it the ‘common privilege’ of the children of God.76

3. Whitefield’s voice: Channelling the prophetic Edwards had invited Whitefield to Northampton with a style of prose that intimated great expectations of the grand itinerant. Edwards’s hope that the town, and the church, and even his own soul would be blessed from above bore an uncanny resemblance to the oral and spatial identity Whitefield himself cultivated and enjoyed. The sound of his voice, mediating the divine presence, would impose itself victoriously on the spatial reality it encountered, whether town, church or soul. In writing later to thank Whitefield, Edwards noted the differences in the town and the church that the visit had provoked. His own children had also been touched by God’s hand through Whitefield, for he had allowed Whitefield to intrude upon his paternal responsibilities to evangelize his family.77 Tellingly, Edwards, though he had cried during the exercises, made no mention of the impact of Whitefield’s visit upon him personally. In terms of Edwards’s ministry identity, however, we can perhaps see some deeper impact.78 His attempt at a more extreme revivalist sermon in 1741, ‘Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God’, had proved moderately

75 Ibid., 65, 66. 76 Mahaffey, Preaching Politics, 90, 144, 145, 186, 215. 77 Edwards, ‘29. To the Reverend George Whitefield’, WJE 16:87. 78 I want to acknowledge the impetus given by Chamberlain in analyzing the sometimes testy relationship between Edwards and Whitefield, while hesitating to use the more provocative emotional language of her piece. Ava Chamberlain, ‘The Grand Sower of

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successful in Enfield, though it had made little impact in Northampton.79 Edwards also made changes to his homiletical style, by preaching, for example, with fewer notes, as was Whitefield’s practice. Alongside these changes, however, more profound resistance to Whitefield’s extreme New Light practices can be seen in Edwards and beyond. The heroic pastoral identity with which Whitefield had arrived in New England in 1740 had caused such a negative reaction that Edwards later sought to oppose this broader trajectory, for example by confronting Whitefield on the matter of spiritual impressions, or by chairing the committee in New London in 1743 that sought to censure James Davenport for his revivalist excesses. Settled pastors like Edwards had ongoing responsibilities and had to preach sermons with a wider range of applications, and ‘these required a technical attention to exegetical detail, moral philosophy, and orderly sequence that was not as well suited to immediate inspiration or as apt to move the emotion’.80 Pastors like Edwards could not merely walk away from the consequences of a revivalist’s visit, but rather had to navigate new spiritual complexity, not just locally but throughout the colonies, to glean good from confusing spiritual reactions and patiently nurture the fruit that grew. No wonder that, in writing a follow-up letter to Whitefield, Edwards, already in 1740, could wish that ‘God would not be to us as a wayfaring man, that turns aside to tarry but for a night, but that he would more and more pour out his Spirit upon us, and no more depart from us’.81 Edwards saw fit to preach a sermon series after Whitefield’s departure on the parable of the sower, dissecting reactions to the visit to provide a more sure spiritual foundation for the recent converts than mere impressions, quite a bold move when the imagery of sowing was so closely associated with Whitefield.82 Edwards had concerns about the tabernacle model of ministry, even when he recognized benefits to his own kith and kin. It wasn’t merely frustration with the cleanup operation after Whitefield’s visit that generated Edwards’s differing pastoral identity. While both Edwards and Whitefield used the traditional imagery of the ambassador of the Lord to valorize their preaching labours,83 appealing to a powerful divine authorization for the Seed:  Jonathan Edwards’s Critique of George Whitefield’, New England Quarterly 70 (1997): 368–85. 79 See Douglas L. Winiarski, ‘Jonathan Edwards, Enthusiast? Radical Revivalism and the Great Awakening in the Connecticut Valley’, CH 74 (2005): 683–739. 80 Stout, The New England Soul, 193. 81 Edwards, ‘29. To the Reverend George Whitefield’, WJE 16:87. 82 Lambert, “Pedlar in Divinity”, 63, 182; Marquis, Transient Apostle, 147. Edwards explains in these sermons how the sower can be understood as the minister of a church, a traditional interpretation, for the office of the evangelist had been widely seen as ‘defunct since apostolic days’. See Hall, Contested Boundaries, 33. 83 For example, Whitefield, ‘Directions: How to Hear Sermons’, in Bence, Sermons, 127, 129; or Jonathan Edwards, ‘The Great Concern of a Watchman for Souls’, in Sermons and Discourses, 1743–1758, 72, or Edwards, ‘Some Thoughts concerning the Revival’, in The Great Awakening, vol. 4 of WJE, 374.

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the content of their sermons, concerns about the nature of ambassadorial selfunderstanding differentiated them. Edwards elided the trope of ambassador with the tenant farmer who stewarded the land while the master was absent, suggesting divine distance, deputized authority and ministerial hierarchy.84 On the other hand, Whitefield was more likely to see his ministerial calling in terms that highlighted not divine distance but rather divine presence, and the creation thereby of a new configuration of spatial reality. Whitefield’s practice was more transgressive, seeing his preaching as generating new loyalties and identities, perhaps even scattering seed in someone else’s field, where the wind could accidentally take it. The new birth was a powerful social and political solvent as well as a spiritual experience.85 Whitefield’s public persona, cultivated through itinerancy, sermons, journals, magazines and commitment to the care and education of the fatherless, ordered a new social space to broker ideas, values and relationships by renegotiating the claims of pastoral authority, given his individual agency and the contingencies of his travels, especially in America. What Whitefield and Edwards had in common, however, after disagreements and rapprochement, was commitment to chastened heroic models of ministry. Whitefield had grown disenchanted with some of his early excesses, and Edwards, though less practised in those excesses, distanced himself from them as well. Edwards nonetheless expressed increasing praise during the 1740s for heroic individuals who, by ordination or missionary service, stepped up to leadership responsibilities despite recalcitrant congregations or institutional conflict.86 Sustaining the revival meant heroic clerical self-denial. Kimnach describes that decade in Northampton as the period of Edwards’s ‘heroic trial’.87 He wrote to Thomas Foxcroft in 1749, admitting that the course he had pursued in Northampton was almost suicidal: I seem as it were to be casting myself off from a precipice; and have no other way, but to go on, as it were blindfold, ie shutting my eyes to everything else but the evidences of the mind and will of God, and the path of duty.88

The difference between Edwards and Whitefield at the end of the day was that Edwards situated that heroic model of sacrifice within circles of ecclesiological accountability and structures of authority, which would both mitigate against revivalist excess and nurture revivalist spirituality, whereas Whitefield located his heroic identity in self-enlargement, for his spatial identity could never rest content within received parochial bounds. Only America was big enough to contain his

84 For example, see Edwards, ‘Great Concern of a Watchman for Souls’, WJE 25:66. 85 Mahaffey, Accidental Revolutionary, 35, 53; Ruttenburg, ‘George Whitefield’, 439. 86 Wilson H.  Kimnach, ‘Preface to the Period’, in Sermons and Discourses, 1743–1758, 14–17. 87 Kimnach, ‘Preface’, WJE 25:40. 88 Edwards, ‘To Thomas Foxcroft’, WJE 16:284.

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externalized self. He anticipated, and indeed encouraged, new kinds of mission, ecclesiastical collaboration and the growth of populist oratory. Edwards’s pastoral identity was maieutic, functioning like a midwife to draw out from the Spirit’s work new birth and fresh shoots of life, acknowledging the right constraints of church life. He may have valued, like Whitefield, the example of the apostle Paul, but he could not bring himself, like Whitefield, to see ministerial agency in terms as provocative as the tabernacle. In terms of ecclesiology, the careful balancing of themes within Edwards’s theology was not to be the way of the evangelical future. Rather, it was Whitefield who was to become ‘the prophet of evangelical modernity’.89 Only one hero can win the day. Reflecting on the ministry priorities and pastoral self-understanding of the apostle Paul in relation to Whitefield, a number of questions have occurred to me concerning the Scriptures, which are posed to New Testament scholars. I am reminded of the need to teach a philosophically nuanced theology of imitation from Paul that is sorely lacking in our tradition: we, with Whitefield, are prone to approach imitation in superficial and moralistic fashion. We can also easily misuse the call narratives from Acts to make easy parallels with expectations of our own experience. The evangelical cause is ill served when we glibly read off from those moments a model for our own missionary or vocational calling. While there has been work done to describe Paul’s priestly ministry in terms of evangelism from Romans 15, I  am unaware of work that asks questions concerning the features of the tabernacle being reflected in his labours. Finally, I  need to work further on my own grasp of the implications of the role of the collection for the saints in Jerusalem for contemporary missional spirituality. It clearly plays a role in illustrating the nature of Gentile inclusion in the people of God and in confronting us with a model of generosity, but how it impacts spirituality or pastoral identity remains, for me, worth pursuing. Whitefield expounds for us just how diverse and contextually defined a Pauline pastoral identity can be.

89 Stout, ‘Religion, Communications’, 125.

212

213

AUTHOR INDEX Aasgaard, Reidar 138 n.65 Abrahamsen, Valerie A. 98 Ackerman, David A. 51 n.20 Ambrose 190 Arnold, Clinton E. 83 n.2, 84 n.8 Augustine 131, ch.13

Burke, Trevor J. 2, 13, 124 n.3, 126 n.12 nn.14–17, 128 n.24 n.28, 129 n.32, 131 n.41, 132 n.46, 133 n.49, 136 n.59, 139 n.69, 140 n.74, 141 n.77 Butler, Jon 197 n.18 Byrne, Brendan 33 n.3, 36 n.10

Ballor, Jordan 144 n.4 Banks, Robert J. 8, 9 n.31, 114 n.16 n.17, 125 n.11 Barclay, John M. G. 73 n.4, 80 n.23, 139 n.71 Barnett, Paul W. 2, 55 n.2, 56 n.4, 61 n.10, 64 n.13, 66 n.18, 67 n.20, 143, 145, 147 n.12 Barram, Michael D. 124 Barrett, C. K. 64 Barth, Markus 85 n.10 n.11, 111 n.4 Barton, Stephen C. 112 n.11, 113, 114 n.15, 124–5, 127 n.18 Baur, F. C. 145–6, 155–6 Beasley-Murray, Paul 112 n.8, 113, 114 n.16 n.17 Berger, Peter L. 96 n.7 Bertram, Georg 102 n.29 n.30 Best, Ernest 2, 9, 17 n.3, 25 n.34, 84 n.4 n.7 n.9, 90 n.25, 125 n.10 Bird, Michael F. 76 n.10, 110 n.3 Blanke, Helmut 111 n.4 Blanton, Thomas R. 64 n.13 Bloesch, Donald G. 170 n.35 de Boer, Willis Peter 78 Bolt, Peter G. 143 n.3 Bornkamm, Günther 17, 31 Bowers, W. Paul 23 n.23, 124 Bradshaw, Paul F. 170 n.38 Brightman, F. E. 174 n.42, 175 n.45 Brown, Peter 184 n.2, 185 n.9, 191 n.40 Bruce, F. F. 29 n.59, 56 n.3, 110 n.3, 111 n.7

Campbell, Constantine R. 58 n.9, 118 n.32 Campbell, R. Alistair 140 Carson, D. A. 26 n.36, 27 n.40, 28 n.47, 145 Castelli, Elizabeth A. 132, 135 n.57 Chadwick, W. E. 2 Chamberlain, Ava 208 n.78 Chow, John K. 57 n.6 Chrysostom, John 51 n.16, 136 n.60, 190 Ciampa, Roy E. 51 n.18 Clarke, Andrew D. 164 n.17, 165 n.22, 166 n.26 n.27 Cohick, Lynn H. 101 n.26 Collins, John N. 163 n.15, 164 n.17 n.20, 166 n.26, 174 n.43 n.44 Collins, Raymond F. 50 n.14 Cousar, Charles B. 80 Croft, Steven J. L. 164 n.18, 165 n.23 n.24, 166 n.26 Crosby, Jesse M. 105 n.39 Cummins, S. A. 79 n.16 Cunha, Emma Salgård 193 n.4 Cunningham, Scott 20 n.10 Davis, Casey W. 125 n.12 Davis, James A. 51 n.20 Davis, John Jefferson 90 n.22 Deissmann, Adolf 131 n.39, 153–4 deSilva, David A. 116 n.21, 126 n.16 Dierks, Konstantin 201 n.35 von Dobschütz, Ernst 131 n.38 Dodd, Brian J. 73 n.5 n.6 Donfried, Karl P. 140 n.74

214

214

Author Index

Dorrien, Gary 156 Downey, James 194 n.5, 199 n.28, 202 n.36, 204 n.50 Downs, David J. 34 n.5 Dunn, James D. G. xi, 2, 39 n.13, 55 n.1, 111 n.4, 114 Dunne, John Anthony 76 n.11, 77 n.13 Eastman, Susan G. 76 n.11, 79 n.17, 130 n.34 Edwards, Jonathan 148, 194–7, 200 n.30, 208–11 Elliot, John H. 8 n.25 Ellis, E. Earle 137 n.63, 138 n.64 Farrer, A. M. 164 n.18 Faulkenberry Miller, John B. 136 n.59 Fee, Gordon D. 95, 101 n.21, 103 n.32, 128 n.26, 129 n.30, 134 n.53 Fitzmyer, Joseph A. 50 n.14, 52 n.22 Flemming, Dean E. 119 Garland, David E. 112 n.10 Gärtner, Bertil E. 9 n.29 Gaster, Theodor H. 15 n.45 Gaventa, Beverly R. 24 n.30 n.31, 29 n.58, 73 n.5, 79 n.17, 127, 130, 134 n.54 Gebauer, Roland 2 n.3 Gillies, John 199, 203 n.45, 205 n.55 Glavic, Julie A. 22 n.17 Goddard, A. J. 79 n.16 Golden, Mark 137 n.62 Gorday, Peter J. 131 n.37 Gorman, Michael J. 131 n.40 Griffith, G. T. 99 Gupta, Nijay K. 110 n.3 Guthrie, Donald 145, 159 n.2 Haanen, Jeff 144 n.4 Hafemann, Scott J. 15 Hall, Timothy D. 204, 209 n.82 Hansen, G. Walter 100 n.18, 103 n.32 Hardin, Justin K. 74 n.8 Harlan, David 198 n.21 Harper, George W. 197 n.18, 206 n.67, 207 n.73 Harrington, Daniel J. 138 n.68 Harris, Murray J. 29 n.55, 55 n.1, 57 n.8, 65 n.17, 116 n.21, 118 n.31, 120 n.38

Harris, W. Hall 84 n.6 Harrison, James R. 52 n.21 Hays, Richard B. 6 n.15, 46, 81 n.25 Heath, Jane M. F. 129 n.30 Heinrici, C. F. G. 2 n.3 Hempton, David 194 Hock, Ronald F. 153–4 Holifield, E. Brooks 196 n.10, 205 n.60, 206 n.63 Holm, Neil 106 Horrell, David G. 51 n.15 Howard, George 73 n.4 Howell, Don N. 123 n.2 Hyatt, Darlene 34 n.6 Issler, Klaus 157 Jewett, Robert 39 n.14, 74 Johnson, Luke Timothy 110 n.3, 111, 145 Kahl, Brigitte 74 n.8 Karris, Robert J. 109 n.1 Keener, Craig S. 18 n.3, 20 n.9, 23 n.24, 24 n.27 Keller, Timothy 75 Kellum, L. Scott 145 Ketley, Joseph 170 n.37, 172 n.41, 175 n.46, 177 n.54, 178 n.56, 179 n.57 Kidd, Thomas S. 205 n.57 Kilgallen, John J. 24 n.30 Kimnach, Wilson H. 210 Knight, George W. 145, 164 n.18, 166 n.25, 168 n.32 Kolbet, Paul R. 185, 191 Köstenberger, Andreas J. 145 Kraftchick, Steven J. 6 Kruse, Colin G. 35 n.7, 37 n.12, 57 n.8, 117 n.28 Lambert, Frank 198 n.20, 202 n.39 n.40, 203 n.41 n.46, 207 n.72 n.74, 208 n.75, 209 n.82 Laniak, Timothy S. 1 Larkin, William J. 85 n.10, 91 n.31 n.32 Lincoln, Andrew T. 2, 85 n.13, 89 n.19 n.21, 109 n.1, 111 n.4 n.6, 116 n.21, 156 Lo, Jonathan W. 115 Lohr, Joel N. 154

215

Author Index

215

Lohse, Eduard 109, 116 n.23 Long, Frederick J. 49 n.13 Longenecker, Bruce W. 46 n.5 Longenecker, Richard N. 34 n.4, 36 n.9, 39 n.13 Luckmann, Thomas 96 n.7 Luckritz Marquis, Timothy 197 n.17, 202 n.35, 209 n.82 Luter, A. Boyd 104 n.36 Luther, Martin 81–2, 162 n.9 Lyons, George 73 n.4 n.5

Morris, Leon 136 n.59, 158 Moule, C. F. D. 116 n.21 Mounce, William D. 145, 161 n.4, 164 n.18, 165 n.23, 166 n.26, 167 n.28, 168 n.31 n.32 Moxnes, Halvor 128 n.24 Moyise, Steve 44 Myrick, Anthony Arthur 2 n.2, 11, 12

MacDonald, Margaret Y. 109 n.1, 117 n.27, 118 n.32 McNeel, Jennifer Houston 130 n.33 Maddock, Ian J. 193 n.4, 200 n.30 Mahaffey, Jerome Dean 193 n.3, 198 n.19 n.20 n.24, 199 n.27, 200 n.29, 201, 203, 204 n.48, 208 n.76, 210 n.85 Malcolm, Matthew R. 44 n.4, 47 n.10, 48 n.12, 51 n.16 Malherbe, Abraham J. 2, 7, 9, 10, 12, 13, 127, 133 n.48, 138 n.66 Manson, T. W. 31 Marguerat, Daniel 131 n.36 Marini, Stephen 197 Marshall, I. Howard 21 n.16, 23 n.22, 27 n.44, 116–17, 125 n.9, 136 n.58, 160 n.3, 163 n.14, 164 n.18 n.19, 165 n.22 n.24, 166 n.25, 167 n.29 n.30, 168 n.32 Martin, Kara A. 114 n.13 Martin, Ralph P. 67 n.22 Martyn, J. Louis 73 n.3 Marxsen, Willi 116 n.21, 117 n.27 Matera, Frank J. 80 Meconi, David V. 184 n.6 Meeks, Wayne A. 10, 101 n.24, 134 n.52, 136–7 n.61 Melick, Richard R. 112 n.10 Merkle, Benjamin L. 163 n.14, 164 n.18, 169 n.33 Merklein, Helmut 84 n.4, 86 n.16 Milligan, George G. 140 n.76 Minear, Paul S. 8 n.25 Mitchell, Margaret M. 51 n.17, 128 Moo, Douglas J. 110 n.3, 112 n.9, 115, 116 n.24, 117 n.26, 145 Moore, G. F. 9 n.27

Oakes, Peter 96 n.4, 97 n.10 Oden, Thomas C. 115, 120–1 O’Donnell, James J. 183 n.1 Olson, Stanley N. 64 n.12 O’Neill, John C. 89 n.19 n.20 Onuf, Peter 198 Orr, Peter C. 25 n.34, 84 n.6, 162 n.12

Nanos, Mark D. 72 n.2, 73 n.3 Nouwen, Henri J. M. 106

Page, Sydney 89 n.19, 91 n.27 Pao, David W. 110 n.3, 111 n.4, 117 n.29, 119 n.33 Pascuzzi, Maria A. 110 n.3 Pedersen, Johannes 8 Perkins, Pheme 50 n.14 Perkins, William 79 Pervo, Richard I. 20 n.9 n.11 Peterlin, Davorin 100 n.18 Pitts, Andrew W. 23 n.24 Poehlmann, William R. 109 n.1 Porter, Stanley E. 44, 48, 85 n.15, 86 n.16 Prokhorov, Alexander V. 72 n.2 Quarles, Charles L. 145 Raichur, Ashish 144 n.4 Rapp, Claudia 190 n.39 Reumann, John 95, 101 Richards, E. Randolph 56 n.5, 67 n.21, 110, 111 n.7 Ridderbos, Herman N. 160 n.3, 161 n.4, 162 n.11, 165 n.23, 167 n.29 Robertson, C. K. 50 n.14 Röhser, Günter 5 n.14 Rosner, Brian S. 5 n.12, 7 n.17, 47, 49 n.12, 51 n.18, 115, 124 n.3 Ruttenburg, Nancy 201 n.32, 203–4, 207, 210 n.85

216

216

Author Index

Saarinen, Risto 168 n.31 Safrai, Shemuel 9 n.28 Sailors, Timothy B. 134 n.55 Sandnes, Karl Olav 141 n.78 Sanlon, Peter T. 184 n.5, 185 n.9 Schnabel, Eckhard J. 17 n.1, 19 n.7, 21 n.15, 23, 24 n.28, 25 n.34, 27 n.41, 28 n.45 n.51, 29 n.55, 116 n.25, 124 n.3, 143, 145, 149 n.13, 156–7 Schnelle, Udo 143, 155–6 Schreiner, Thomas R. 123 n.2, 124 n.3 Schweizer, Eduard 111 n.4 Scott, John Thomas 200 n.28 Seifrid, Mark A. 119 n.35 Siegel, Daniel J. 105 n.38 Simut, Corneliu C. 155 n.26 Smith, Lisa 203 n.47, 204 n.51, 206 von Soden, Hans 13 n.40 Soskice, Janet Martin 5 Spencer, F. Scott 23 n.25, 24 n.26 van ’t Spijker, Willem 176 n.48–177 n.55 Stanley, Christopher D. 44 n.3, 46 n.5 Stern, Menahem 9 n.28 Still, Todd D. 154 Stott, John R. W. 38, 78 Stout, Harry S. 195 n.7, 198, 201 n.31, 202, 209 n.80, 211 n.89 Strauss, Steve 35 n.8 Strom, Mark 107 n.43 Stump, Eleonore 184 n.6 Sumney, Jerry L. 110 n.1 Sweet, Leonard I. 202 Tabb, Brian J. 20 n.10 Talbert, Charles H. 110 n.1 Tarn, W. W. 99 Thielman, Frank S. 84 n.5 n.6, 85 n.12, 90 n.23 n.24, 91 n.29 n.30 Thiselton, Anthony C. 51 n.19 Thompson, Alan J. 18 n.3, 19 n.5, 20 n.10, 23 n.25, 24 n.26, 28 n.52, 119 n.36 Thompson, James W. 2, 3 n.7, 17 n.2, 77 n.12, 79 n.18, 80–1, 112 n.11, 115 n.20, 129

Thompson, Mark D. 143 n.3 Thurston, Bonnie B. 98–9 Tidball, Derek J. 112 n.8 Towner, Philip H. 145 Trebilco, Paul 3, 8, 13, 14 n.44, 24 n.27, 102 n.27, 140 n.74, 161 n.4, 165 n.21 n.22, 166 n.26 Twohig, Michael P. 105 n.39 Vanhoye, Albert 161 n.5 n.6, 162 nn.8–11 Vegge, Ivar 55 n.1, 64 n.12 Walker, Joshua F. 23 n.24 Wallace, Daniel B. 85–8, 138 n.66 Walton, Steve 24 n.29 n.30, 28 n.51 Ward, W. Reginald 198 Watson, Francis 46, 64 n.14 Weima, Jeffrey A. D. 114 n.18, 128 n.27, 139 n.70 n.72 Welborn, L. L. 55 n.1, 57 n.8, 68 Wells, Samuel 147 n.11 Wellum, Kirk 27 n.40 Wellum, Stephen J. 27 n.40 de Wette, W. M. L. 91 n.29 Whitefield, George ch.14 Wilckens, Ulrich 156 n.33 Wilson, Robert McL. 110 n.1, 118 Winiarski, Douglas L. 209 n.79 Winter, Bruce W. 51 n.15, 74 n.8, 100, 101 Witherington, Ben 34 n.6, 73 n.5, 96 n.3 n.5 n.6, 97 n.9, 99, 100, 101 n.25, 102, 103 n.33, 126 n.15, 143 Witmer, Stephen E. 133 Witulski, Thomas 74 n.8 Woidneck, Michelle R. 105 n.39 Woodbridge, John D. 26 n.36, 27 n.40 Wright, N. T. 6 n.15, 37 n.11, 46, 71–2, 83 n.1, 112 n.10, 125 n.8, 127 n.23, 141 Yarbrough, Robert W. 25 n.34, 156 n.31 Yarnell, Malcolm B. 171 n.40, 176 n.52 Zeller, Dieter 50 n.14, 51 n.19

217

SCRIPTURE INDEX Old Testament Genesis 2.15 4.2 4.8–10 7.1 7.13 12.1 15.6 17.4–14 20.13 21.7 24.7 24.59 35.8 48.3–4 48.15 49.24 Exodus 2.7–9 2.17 20.9

147 84 15 8 8 8 74 74 8 12 8 12 n.37 12 n.37 8 8 84

12 n.37 84 147

Numbers 11.12 27.17

12 84

Deuteronomy 4.9 6.6–9 6.20 8.5 11.19 23.19 32

133 8 133 11 133 15 6–7

Ruth 4.16

12 n.37

1 Samuel 1.21–23 9.20 17.25 22.1 24.17

12 8 8 8 84

2 Samuel 3.10 4.4 7.14

8 12 n.37 11

1 Kings 1.2 3.21

12 n.37 12

Proverbs 1.25 3.12 4.3 10.13 10.17 13.1 13.24 15.5 15.31 22.15 23.13–14 29.15 29.18 30.17

2 Kings 11.2

12 n.37

Song of Songs 8.1 12

Job 1.16 3.12 5.13

84 12 n.37 48

Psalms 2 2.2 18.2 18.8 LXX 22.9 23.1 62.2 68.18 78.71 80.1 93.11 97 118.130 LXX 130.2 133.1

44–5, 49 47 6 134–5 12 84 6 84 n.6 84 84 48 188 134–5 12 14

10 11 12 10 10 10–11 10 10–11 8 10, 11 10, 11 10–11 105 10–11

Isaiah 29.14 38.12 40.11 40.13 45.10 49.15 49.23 54.1 54.13 66.12–13

47 91 n.26 84 48 79 12 12 9 133 12

Jeremiah 2.8 9.22 24.6–7 38.9–10 LXX

84 47 60–1 11

Ezekiel 3.17–19 33.1–9

26 n.37 26 n.37

218

218

Scripture Index

34.2 34.12

84 84

14.21 17.7–10 17.14

Daniel 2.19–23 5.23

45 47

Hosea 2.1

9

Malachi 1.6

11

John 1.14 4.38 6.63 10.1–16 10.11 20.19–23 21.6 21.15–17

86 148 161

131, 204 102 34 172–3 84 172–3 102 172–3

New Testament Matthew 2.6 3.7 4.21 6.19–20 6.28 8.4 9.11 9.36–38 11.5 16.18 21.16 26.31 28.18–20

84 86 91 n.28 150 102 161 86 172–3 134–5 196 91 n.28, 134–5 84 173

Mark 1.19 1.44 2.16 3.34–35 10.45

91 n.28 161 87 8 131

Luke 1.4 2.8 5.5 5.14 6.40 7.22 10.21 10.31–32 12.27 13.32

102 n.28 84 102 161 91 36 134–5 87 102 5

Acts 1.1 2.17 3.7 3.16 4 4.5 4.8 4.23 6 6.1–6 6.2–3 6.2–7 6.4 6.9 9.1–30 9.2 9.15 9.20 11.4 11.19–30 11.21 11.23 11.24 11.25 11.26 13–14 13.1–14.28 13.1–3 13.5 13.13–50

36, 102 n.28 28 n.46 21 n.15 21 n.15 49 20 n.11 20 n.11 20 n.11 174 n.43, 176 164 164 172–3, 178 90 n.23, 164 97 n.8 18 97 n.8 200 97 n.8 102 18 18 18, 19 n.8, 23 n.21 18 18 18 19, 21, 25, 72 18–19 n.5, 19 181 97 n.8 74 n.8

13.14 13.43 13.50 13.50–51 14.1 14.5–6 14.6 14.13 14.14–15 14.19 14.21 14.21–23 14.21–28 14.22 14.23

15 15.1 15.1–5 15.1–35 15.21 15.23–24 15.32 15.36 15.41 16–18 16.1 16.1–5 16.5 16.9–10 16.10–17 16.11–15 16.11–40 16.14 16.15 16.21 16.22–23 16.39 16.40

17.1 17.2 17.4

97 n.8 19 n.8, 97 n.8 22 19 97 n.8 19 22 161 n.7 188 19, 22 19 18–21, 25 23 n.25 20, 21 n.14, 23 n.21 20, 21, 26 n.39, 29, 163, 165 n.24 72 66, 74 74 98 97 n.8 66 21 n.14, 23 n.21 21 21 21 n.16 102 n.28 21 n.15 21 98 102 n.28 97–8 101 95, 97 97 96 96 22 22 n.17 n.19, 23 n.21, 97–8 96–7 125 98

219

Scripture Index 17.4–15 17.5–15 17.6 17.10 17.12 17.14 17.17 18.1 18.1–4 18.1–18 18.2 18.4 18.5 18.6 18.7 18.10–11 18.11 18.18 18.19 18.19–19.41 18.23 18.24 18.26 19.1 19.8 19.10 19.20 19.21 19.21–22 19.22 19.24–27 20

20.1 20.1–2 20.1–12 20.1–21.14 20.2 20.2–3 20.3 20.4 20.5–15 20.6 20.6–12

102 n.28 125 97 22, 96–7 98 22 97 n.8 22 n.20 101 56 32, 97 n.11, 101 97 n.8 102 n.28 26 n.37 97 n.8 29 n.57 22, 124 101 97 n.8 24 21 102 97 n.8, 101–2 102 97 n.8, 124 22–3, 27, 124 27 21 n.16 57 102 n.28 25 18, 19, 21, 22 n.17, 23–9 23 n.21 22 n.17 23 23 n.25 23 21 n.16, 56, 69 23 n.21, 69 102 n.28 102 n.28 101 22 n.17

20.7 20.12 20.16 20.17 20.17–35 20.17–38 20.18 20.18–21 20.18–31 20.19 20.19–20 20.20 20.21 20.22–27 20.23 20.23–24 20.24

20.25 20.26 20.26–27 20.27 20.28

20.28–29 20.28–31 20.29 20.30 20.31

20.32 20.32–36 20.33 20.33–35 20.34 20.35

20.36 20.37–38 20.38 21–28 21.1–18

22 n.17 22 n.17, 23 n.21 24 24, 165 172–3 169 25 24 114 25, 27, 29 26 26, 116 26, 29 n.54 24 20 n.11, 25 26 25, 26, 29 n.54, 90 n.23 24, 26 26 36 26 24, 25–6, 28–9, 84, 165, 173 84 24, 85 n.11 27 25 22–3, 25 n.32, 26 n.38, 27–8, 116, 124 21 n.12, 26–7, 29 24, 29 25 25, 29 n.57 25 n.33, 145 25, 27 n.42, 28 n.49, 29 n.54, 145 29 24 24 23 102 n.28

219 21.19 22.3 22.15 22.19 24.12 26.11 26.16–18 27.1–28 28.23

90 n.23 147 200 97 n.8 97 n.8 97 n.8 200 102 n.28 102

Romans 1.1 1.1–4 1.8 1.11–12 1.14–15 2–3 2.1 2.3 2.25–29 3.7–8 3.8 3.21–4.25 3.25–26 4.3 4.23–25 5.1–5 5.1–11 5.8–11 6.1 6.1–2 6.1–14 6.1–23 6.1–8.13 6.13–14 6.15 6.15–23 6.20–23 7.1–8.13 7.6 8.1–13 8.12–13 8.14–17 8.18–25 8.26–27 8.29 8.31–32 8.31–39 8.33

29 n.55 46 33 33 32 75 150 n.14 150 n.14 66 38 32, 36 76 89 41 41 41 63 n.11 41 32 36–7 38 38 32 38 32, 37 38 37 38 65 n.16 38 38 41 130 n.33 41 8, 9 41 41 41

220

220 8.34 8.38–39 9–10 9.20 9.22 9.25–26 11 11.13 11.13–32 11.33 12.1 12.2 12.3 12.4–8 12.8 12.9 12.10 12.16–18 12.17 13.1 13.1–2 13.1–7 13.3–5 13.4 13.6–7 13.7 14–15 14.1–15.13 14.2–3 14.3 14.4 14.5–6 14.10 14.15 14.17 15 15.2 15.2–3 15.7 15.8 15.14 15.14–16 15.14–33 15.15 15.16 15.17–19 15.19

Scripture Index 41 41 75 150 n.14 91 n.28 9 190 90 n.23 38 150 n.14 34, 38–9 39 39 39 20 n.11 4 14 181 152 39 39, 180 32, 39 n.13, 179–80 39 163 n.16 39 39 75 40 32 40 40 32 40 40 40 211 89 40 40 163 n.16 27 n.42, 33 33–5 35 n.8 33 n.3 4 n.8, 34 n.4 n.5 35–6 xi, 2, 124

15.20 15.23–24 15.25–28 15.25–32 15.26 16.1 16.2 16.3 16.3–4 16.4 16.6 16.7 16.9 16.12 16.17–18 16.19–20 16.21 16.23

123 31–2 32 34 n.5 69 101, 163 n.16 101 101, 102 101 101 102 87 102 102 66 33 102 69, 111 n.4

1 Corinthians 1 1–4 1.1 1.10 1.10–17 1.10–2.5 1.10–3.23 1.10–4.21 1.11 1.12 1.13 1.17 1.18 1.18–25 1.18–3.20 1.19 1.20 1.23 1.25 1.26 1.26–28 1.26–31 1.28 1.31 2.1–5 2.5 2.6 2.6–10

187 43–9, 103 110 91 n.28 45 45 76 44–5 101 102 188 51 47 45 51 n.20 47 47 156 47 43 49–50 45 47 47 44–5 47 43, 47 45

2.6–3.4 2.8 2.9 2.10–16 2.12 2.13 2.16 3.1–2 3.1–3 3.1–4 3.4 3.4–6 3.4–7 3.5 3.5–9 3.5–4.5 3.10 3.10–17 3.13 3.18–23 3.19 3.19–20 3.22 4.1–5 4.3 4.6 4.6–7 4.6–17 4.8 4.8–13 4.9–13 4.12 4.14 4.14–15 4.14–17 4.15 4.15–21 4.16 4.17 4.21 5–7 5.1 5.7 5.9 6.5 8.11

45 43, 47 48 45 47 47 48 4 134 44–5 47 102 186–7 101, 163 n.16 45 45 4 n.8 45 130 n.33 45 47 48 102 44–5 47 102 45 45 43 45 147 102, 145 27 n.42, 53 11 45, 116 4, 11 11 25 n.35, 132 n.43, 180 57, 78, 102 n.28, 133 11, 43 47 60 51 56 14 51

221

Scripture Index 9 9.7 9.15 9.17 9.22 10.22 11.1

11.26 12.26–27 13 13.11 14.20 15.3–5 15.8–9 15.24 15.24–26 15.31 15.32 15.58 16.10 16.10–11 16.12 16.16 16.19 16.21

103 1, 84 43 120 xi, 2 7 n.17 25 n.35, 78, 132 n.43, 180 51 51 130 134 134 46, 51 33 43, 52 47 43 149 14, 25 n.34 102 n.28 57 102 102 101, 127 110

2 Corinthians 1.1 56, 64, 102 n.28, 110, 137 1.3 63 1.3–7 67 n.19 1.5 79 1.6 61 1.8–11 67 n.19 1.11 61 1.12 59 1.15 57 1.17 59–60 1.19 102 n.28 1.24 68 2.1 56, 57 2.3 56 2.3–4 56 2.4 27 n.41, 57, 69 2.5 57, 60

2.5–11 2.6 2.7–8 2.14–15 2.14–16 2.14–17 2.14–3.18 2.17 3 3–4 3.1 3.3 3.6 3.6–8 3.6–9 3.8 3.9 4.1 4.1–2 4.2 4.4 4.5 4.7–11 4.7–12 4.10 5.11–6.13 5.14–21 5.18 5.18–6.13 5.19 5.20 5.21 6 6.1 6.1–2 6.3 6.3–10 6.4 6.10 6.11–12 7.5–16 7.6–7 7.8 7.12 7.13–16 8.9

57, 60, 61–2 57 62 67 29 n.57, 67 n.19 64 68 64, 66 64–5, 76 197 64, 66 64 64, 101, 163 n.16 90 n.23 66 64 64 90 n.23 60 64 49 n.13 64 147 67 n.19 79 68 67 90 n.23 62–3 62 63 62, 64 199 147 63 64, 90 n.23 63, 67 n.19 101, 163 n.16 63 63 63–4 63 56, 57 56, 57, 60 63–4 63

221 8.10–12 8.16–18 8.20–21 8.23 10.1–11.6 10.8 10.8–9 10.8–11 10.9–10 10.10 10.12–12.13 10.14 11.1–12.13 11.2 11.3 11.4 11.5 11.7 11.12 11.13 11.13–15 11.15 11.22 11.23

11.25 11.28 12.2–5 12.5 12.6 12.14–15 12.15 12.19 12.21 13.1 13.2 13.5 13.9 13.10 13.11

Galatians 1–2 1–3 1.1

69 56 60 102 103 60, 62 60–1 56 62 57 68 64 64, 67 n.19 53 4 n.8, 34 56, 62, 64, 66 64, 66 154 64 64, 66 64 101, 163 n.16 64 64, 66, 67, 101, 163 n.16 19 2, 27 n.43 186 186 186 131 132 58–9 57 56 57 68 91 60, 62 61, 91 n.28

73, 79 78 73, 103, 110

222

222 1.6 1.6–7 1.6–12 1.7 1.8–9 1.10 1.10–2.14 1.11–12 1.12–24 1.15 1.20 2.1–10 2.1–14 2.1–3.29 2.3 2.4 2.7 2.9 2.9–10 2.11 2.11–14 2.12 2.13 2.14 2.15 2.15–21 3–4 3.1 3.1–5 3.3–4 3.4 3.6–14 3.10 3.15–29 3.19 4 4.1–11 4.9–10 4.10 4.11 4.12 4.12–20 4.13 4.13–15 4.14–15 4.15–16 4.16

Scripture Index 76, 81 76 71, 103 76, 77 76 29 n.55, 73 77 73 77 81 73 72, 74 77 76 74, 77 66, 74 66 73 32 103 66, 72 74 103 74, 76, 77 77 74 74 103, 150 n.14 71, 77 77 76, 77 n.13 74, 77 74 77–8 81 n.25 78 78 66 74 76, 77, 181 77, 78–9 79 n.16 79 79 79 103 76

4.17 4.17–18 4.19 4.19–20 4.21 4.21–31 4.27–31 4.29 4.29–30 4.30 5–6 5.1–4 5.1–6.17 5.2 5.2–3 5.2–4 5.4 5.6 5.7 5.8 5.9 5.10 5.11 5.12 5.13 5.14 5.16–17 5.19–20 5.19–21 5.22–23 5.24 6.1 6.1–2 6.10 6.11 6.11–18 6.12 6.12–13 6.12–17 6.15 Ephesians 1.1 1.3–14 1.9

76 79 5, 130 n.33 76, 79 76 80 9 76 76 n.11 76 80–1 71 80 n.23 66, 74, 76 74 77 74 74 76, 77 81 76 66, 76, 80, 81 74 73 n.3, 76, 80, 103 74, 81 76, 80 74 76 80 179 74 91 n.28 14–15 3 n.7 103, 110 74 n.8 66, 74, 76, 77 76 72 n.2 74

83 n.2, 110 92 92

1.13 1.15 1.17–18 2.20 3.2 3.7 3.7–10 3.18–19 4.2 4.3 4.4–5 4.7 4.7–11 4.7–13 4.8–10 4.11

4.11–12 4.11–13 4.12 4.13 4.13–14 4.14 4.15 4.16 4.17–18 4.20 4.20–23 5.5 5.15–16 6.21

Philippians 1.1

1.1–2 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5

91 92 92 85, 88 92, 120 163 n.16 93–4 93 29 n.53 83 83 84, 91, 92, 162 n.13 84 n.6 173 84 n.6 1, 3, 28 n.48, 84, 85–8, 92, 162 n.12 n.13 83–8, 173, 181, 182 162–3 88–92 90, 91 90 92 91 91 93 92 93 5 93 101, 163 n.16

28 n.47, 29 n.55, 85, 99, 102 n.28, 123 n.2, 137, 164, 165 100 100 104 104, 106 99, 100, 104

223

Scripture Index 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9 1.10 1.12 1.13 1.14 1.15 1.15–18 1.16 1.17 1.18 1.19 1.25 1.27 1.27–30 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5–11 2.6–7 2.6–11 2.8 2.10–11 2.12 2.12–13 2.14 2.15 2.16 2.17 2.18 2.19 2.19–23 2.20 2.21 2.22 2.22–24 2.23 2.24 2.25

105 99, 100, 104 104 104 105 100, 103 100 100, 103 99 66 100 99, 100 106 97 106 2, 96, 100, 103, 104 95, 99 99 100, 104–5, 106 29 n.53, 99, 154 105 103, 186 104 105 154 97 103 29 n.57 99 97 105 106 106 101, 103, 106 102 n.28 103 99 4, 100, 102 n.28, 138 100 103 106 102, 103, 104

2.25–28 2.25–30 2.28 2.29 3.1 3.1–9 3.2 3.2–3 3.4–6 3.10 3.13 3.14 3.17 3.18–19 3.19 3.20 4.1 4.2 4.2–3 4.3

4.4 4.5 4.8 4.10 4.10–20 4.15 4.18 4.21 Colossians 1–2 1.1

1.2 1.3 1.4 1.7 1.7–8 1.9 1.10 1.10–12

106 100 106 106 103, 106 76 95 66 97 99 103 105 25 n.35, 78, 103, 105 66 95 96 14, 103, 105, 106 99, 100, 103, 104 95 95, 100–1, 102, 104, 105 106 104 103, 105 106 95 100 102 n.28 103

76 102 n.28, 110, 113, 111 n.7, 115 115 118 118 n.32 113, 117, 163 n.16 113 117–18, 120 120 120

223 1.12 1.12–14 1.15–20 1.20–23 1.23

1.24 1.24–25 1.24–2.5 1.25

1.26 1.28

1.28–29 1.29 1.29–2.1 2.1 2.2 2.4 2.5 2.6–8 2.7 2.9–11 2.9–15 2.10 2.16–4.6 2.18 2.23 3.5 3.12 3.12–14 3.15–17 3.16 4.2–3 4.3 4.3–4 4.7

4.7–8 4.7–13

118 n.31 117 117 117 110, 111, 117, 163 n.16 79, 118 117–18 111, 116 117, 118 n.32, 120, 163 n.16 120 xi, 2, 27 n.42, 116, 117–18, 118–19 33, 112 102, 119 117 118 113, 117– 18, 120 120 120 117 118 117 117 117–18 117 29 n.53 29 n.53 5 29 n.53 119 118 27 n.42, 119 118 112, 117, 120 n.39 112, 116 101, 115, 117, 163 n.16 111 117

224

224 4.9 4.11 4.12 4.13 4.14 4.15 4.16 4.17 4.18

Scripture Index 115 102, 112 n.11, 117 113, 117– 18, 119–20 118 102 n.28 101, 112 n.11, 115 127 117–18 110, 111

1 Thessalonians 1–3 129 n.30 1.1 102 n.28, 126, 137, 138 n.67 1.3 126 1.4 126, 132, 137 1.4–5 35 1.5 129, 132 n.47 1.6 78, 132 1.9 129 1.9–10 133, 136, 137 2 25 n.31, 127 n.20 2.1 126, 129 2.1–4 129 2.1–5 135 2.2 96, 129 2.2–9 126 n.15 2.3 135 2.4 135 2.5 25 n.34, 129, 135 2.5–8 130 n.33 2.6–7 134 2.7 5, 12, 126, 127, 129, 131, 134–6, 137 2.7–8 129–31 2.8 125, 130, 131, 132

2.9

2.9–12 2.10 2.11

2.11–12 2.12 2.13 2.14 2.17

2.17–3.5 2.17–3.6 2.17–3.10 2.18 3.1 3.1–5 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7 3.10

3.12 3.13 4.1 4.1–2 4.2 4.3–8 4.6 4.9 4.9–11 4.9–12 4.10 4.11–12

25 n.34, 126, 129 n.31, 132, 145 131–4 129 n.31, 131–2 4, 126, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 137 11–12, 134 n.51 133–4 35 78, 126 126, 128, 129 n.30, 134, 136–7 128 136 125 128, 138 136 137–8, 139 102, 126, 137, 138 129 129 125 102 n.28 126 91 n.28, 128, 129 n.30, 139 130, 132 126, 128 2, 126, 180 135, 139 129, 133 128, 139 126 4, 14, 133 25 n.34 128, 133, 139, 140 126 139

4.12 4.13 4.13–18 4.15–16 4.18 5.1 5.2 5.4 5.11 5.12

5.12–13 5.12–15 5.13 5.14

5.15 5.23 5.25 5.26 5.27

139 126, 129 n.31 139 128 140 126 129 126 140 25 n.34, 27 n.42, 126, 139–40 20 n.11 133, 139–41 139, 140 27 n.42, 126, 139, 140 152 139 126, 139 n.69 126, 139 n.69 126, 139 n.69

2 Thessalonians 1.1 102 n.28 1.2 126 1.3 126, 137 2.1 126 2.13 126 2.15 126 3.1 126 3.6 126 3.6–12 140 3.7 25 n.35, 78 3.7–10 133 3.8 145 3.9 78 3.13 126 3.15 27 n.42, 126 3.17 110 1 Timothy 1.2

147

225

Scripture Index 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.8 1.10 1.12 1.13 1.13–14 1.16 1.17 1.18 1.19 2.1 2.1–2 2.1–3 2.2 2.5 2.7 2.8 2.9 2.9–15 2.15 3.1 3.1–2 3.1–7

3.1–13

3.1–16 3.2 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.8 3.8–13 3.8–16 3.9 3.10 3.11 3.12 3.13

146 147 147 147 147–8 4, 90 n.23, 148 148 169 148 148 4, 148 147 148 148 179 148 179 148 148 150 n.15 149 150 n.15 149, 150 n.15, 167 28 n.47 123 n.2, 166–7, 168, 172–3, 181 149, 159, 160, 163, 166–9 172–3 85, 167–8 20 n.11, 167 20 n.11, 167 168 164 164, 166–7, 179 172–3 167–8, 179 163, 168, 179 164 n.16 20 n.11, 164, 167 168–9

225 2.3–7

5.17–21 5.17–25 5.22–25 6.1–2 6.2 6.8 6.9–10 6.11–12 6.12–14 6.18–19 6.20

147 149 101, 149, 163 n.16 149 146 102 181 149 25 n.35, 182 182 164, 180 182 26, 149 85 149–50 150 20 n.11, 25 n.34, 28 n.46, 102, 165 150 123 n.2 150 150 150 150 150 150 150 150 150

2 Timothy 1.2 1.3 1.5 1.6 1.6–7 1.7 1.8 1.9–12 1.13–14 1.16–18 2.1 2.1–2 2.2

4 150 147 146, 180 182 150–1 151 151 151 151 4 151 169

Titus 1.1 1.3 1.4 1.5

3.15 4.1–5 4.6 4.7 4.7–10 4.10 4.11–13 4.11–16 4.12 4.13 4.14 4.15–16 4.16 5.1 5.3–8 5.9–16 5.17

2.7 2.9 2.10 2.14–15 2.15 2.16 2.20–21 2.22 2.23 2.24–26 3.1–9 3.3 3.10–11 3.10–12 3.10–15 3.14–15 3.14–16 3.15 3.17 4.1 4.1–4 4.2 4.5

4.6–8 4.8 4.11 4.17 4.18 4.19 4.21

1.5–6 1.5–9

1.6 1.6–7 1.6–9

25 n.32, 151 151 151 151 151 25 n.32 151–2 152 152 152 152 152 150 n.15 152 19 25 n.32 147 152 53 152 152 181 152, 182 25 n.32, 90 n.23, 152 152 182 102 n.28 152 152 101 152

29 n.55 152 4 152, 163, 165 28 n.46 123 n.2, 160, 163, 166 167 28 n.47 152–3

226

226 1.7 1.7–8 1.8 1.9 1.10–14 1.15–16 2.1 2.2 2.2–10 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.11–14 2.12 2.13 2.15 3.1 3.1–3 3.3 3.4–8 3.8 3.9–10 3.12–14 3.13 3.14

Scripture Index 28 n.47, 85, 165 153 150 n.15 27 n.43, 85, 167–8 153 153 153, 181 150 n.15 153 150 n.15 150 n.15 25 n.35 153 150 n.15 85 153, 181 179 153 153 153 153 153 153 102 153

Philemon 1 2 5 10 19 24 Hebrews 3.1 5.14 7–10 10.5 11.3 12.11 12.22–24 13.17 13.20 13.21 1 Peter 2.5 2.9 2.25 5.1

5.1–2 102 127 89 4, 12 110 102

85 146 161 91 n.28 91 n.28 146 196–7 28 84 91 n.28

161–2 161–2 84 28 n.46, 85

5.1–4 5.2 5.2–4 5.4 5.5 5.10

28 n.48, 85 n.11, 165 n.24 25 n.35 1, 84 28 n.50 84 29 n.53 91 n.28

2 Peter 1.1

85

1 John letter

189

Jude 12

84

Revelation 1.3 1.6 5.10 7.17 12.10 20.4 20.6

87 161–2 161–2 84 41 162 162