Paul's Eschatological Anthropology: The Dynamics of Human Transformation

1

Introduction to This Investigation

1. Introduction

We stand amidst a vital and developing approach to Paul, which will surely prove to be one of our period’s most significant international events in the study of the apostle Paul.[1] This tectonic shift was introduced by E. Käsemann,[2] developed by J. C. Beker,[3] and informs the work of J. L. Martyn.[4] What we are referring to is, of course, the recognition that Paul’s theologizing is apocalyptic or eschatological. This has a radical impact on how we understand the apostle, and implies that in Paul’s symbolic universe humans are situated, both temporally and spatially, within a cosmological context.[5] A few key points on this landscape will be helpful here. Considered temporally, implicit in the eschatological perspective is the view that the cosmos progresses through discrete periods or aeons that move toward a distinct telos.[6] In the death and resurrection of Christ, and the sending of the Holy Spirit, Paul witnessed the eschatological event that created a cleavage between the old and new aeons;[7] it was the primary focal point that determined the past and future. The new aeon introduced by Christ stands in juxtaposition to the old aeon, this age (1 Cor. 1:20; 2 Cor. 4:4; Rom. 12:12), this world (1 Cor. 3:19), and the present evil age (Gal. 1:4).[8] While the old aeon persists alongside the new, humans await Christ’s parousia, which will bring to completion their renewal and that of the cosmos. What distinguishes the aeons is the dominant power in the cosmos: either Sin or the Holy Spirit.[9] Hence, J. M. G. Barclay comments, When Paul pauses, midway through Romans 5, to redraw the map of the cosmos, he sees two, and only two, power structures at work within the cosmos (Rom. 5:12–21).[10] In 1 Cor. 15:45, 47, the hegemony of these powers is identified with Adam (πρῶτος) and Christ (ἔσχατος) respectively, indicating that it is only these powers that significantly determine the cosmos, albeit both are active in the overlap of aeons. There is no third possibility.[11]

It is here that the spatial dimension of the eschatological perspective becomes important in Paul’s theologizing. The hegemony of these powers is not restricted to humans, but is manifested throughout the entire cosmos (Rom. 8:19–22).[12] Indeed, nothing stands outside their influence. For Paul, the cosmos is a plenum in which humans are irrevocably knit into the fabric of ‘the world.’[13] The solidarity of humans and the cosmos is exhibited in the mutual interrelation and interdependence of parts that together form a united whole—human and nonhuman creation share the same origin and destiny.[14] Like humans, creation is the work of God, and thus essentially good (1 Cor. 8:6; Rom. 4:17; Col. 1:15–20; 2 Tim. 4:4).[15] However, both human (Rom. 3:9) and nonhuman creation (Rom. 8:20) have succumbed to the pervasive dominion of Sin, and together groan (2 Cor. 5:4; Rom. 8:19) in anticipation of the liberation inaugurated in the death and resurrection of Christ. Paul sometimes describes this telos with the misnomer καινὴ κτίσις (new creation, 2 Cor. 5:17; Gal. 6:15).[16] But God does not abandon creation (Rom. 4:17; 1 Cor. 8:6). Thus, in Rom. 8:19–22, Paul intimates that there is a significant degree of continuity between creation in the old and new aeons.[17]

The eschatological approach, here outlined in brief, carries numerous demands that must be satisfied in pursuit of an understanding of Paul’s anthropology. Indeed, eschatology presents a remarkable challenge to Christian faith and theology![18] Situated within a cosmological context, humans are subject to powers that dominate the aeons. What humans are is a function of the dominant power. Thus, with the progression from the old to the new aeon, and the introduction of the Holy Spirit, humans undergo transformation as they are caught up in the eschatological dynamic. This implies that a static understanding of Paul’s anthropology (for example, that advanced by R. H. Gundry),[19] one that considers humans in isolation from this development, is problematic. It is not sufficient to seek to determine whether humans are monistic or dualistic, composed of so many parts or aspects. For the apostle, humans cannot be apprehended as if they were immutable, autonomous beings.[20] Thus, throughout Paul’s letters, humans always reveal themselves through the medium of Sin or the Holy Spirit. On no occasion do we find them as they exist in themselves, that is, independently of the dominant power. It is because of this that Paul attributes no intrinsic value to any anthropological part or aspect that is constitutive of humans. For example, the apostle can speak of an ἀδόκιμος νοῦς (debased mind, Rom. 1:28) and a νοῦς Χριστοῦ (mind of Christ, 1 Cor. 2:16). The νοῦς has no value in itself; only as an instrument of the ruling power does it possess value, whether positive or negative.

Whereas neglect of the temporal dimension implicit in the eschatological approach results in a static view of humans, disregard of the spatial dimension—which integrates humans with creation—issues in an arbitrary severing of humans from the cosmos. What follows from this is the problematic assumption that Paul maintains a dualist position between the soul/spirit and the material cosmos (including the σῶμα).[21] Because such dualism invariably devalues the σῶμα,[22] the idea of renewed creation, of which humans form an interconnected part, gives way to the notion of an abstract heaven, where believers will exist as disembodied entities postmortem.[23] This is a radical and inadmissible skewing of Paul’s anthropology.

What is required, then, is a cosmic anthropology that can undertake to satisfy these manifold demands.[24] In this investigation we shall attempt to address the need for such a cosmic, eschatological anthropology. This anthropology will seek to correlate the contingent evaluation accorded by Paul to any given anthropological part or aspect with the power that determines its value. It will also explain how the cosmological powers interact both with one another and with humans. Not content with viewing humans at an isolated moment on the eschatological continuum, a cosmic Pauline anthropology must chart the development of any given anthropological part or aspect in its progress toward the telos. For the apostle, humans can never be understood except in relation to this continuum. Accordingly, anthropology will thus need to stretch[25] its understanding of humans, viewing them from a perspective that encompasses the entire economy of salvation, from πρῶτος to ἔσχατος (1 Cor. 15:45).[26] What humans are in the old aeon is different from what they will be in the new aeon. It is only by availing ourselves of the eschatological perspective that we are able to understand the dynamic nature of the human condition.[27] The eschatological perspective also seeks to overcome the various dualisms—anthropological, psychological, and temporal[28]—that impact on Paul’s view of humans, replacing them with a more continuous, even harmonious, understanding of humans situated within a good creation, for everything created by God is good (1 Tim. 4:4).

How we intend to approach this investigation is detailed in section 4 below, following a survey of the extant literature on Paul’s anthropology. There we shall see that most, if not all, of the demands outlined above have not been previously addressed. At the same time we shall become cognizant of the overall progress achieved in this challenging field of Pauline studies. In the following two sections we hope to provide the reader with a comprehensive grounding in the state of the question.

2. The Study of Paul’s Anthropology

Käsemann remarks, In the whole of the New Testament it is only Paul who expounds what we should call a thoroughly thought-out doctrine of man.[29] However, there are very few monographs dedicated to Paul’s anthropology in the English-speaking world, and those extant reflect wider scholarly trends that in many cases have inhibited progress in this field. Notable among these trends is the debate regarding the relative significance accorded to context and theological content in Paul’s letters. Previously, while it was recognized that the apostle’s letters were to some extent occasional, it was nevertheless assumed that the given context functioned primarily as a catalyst for the actualization of a consistent, implicit theology.[30] Despite being of a composite nature, it was believed that Paul’s theology could be distilled from his letters by separating it from its accompanying context. In the study of Paul’s anthropology, these presuppositions issued in a number of lexical studies, in which the apostle’s anthropological terms were extracted from both their epistolary and life context, and arranged in a number of predetermined categories. Representatives of this type of study include H. W. Robinson,[31] C. R. Smith,[32] E. De Witt Burton,[33] and W. G. Kümmel.[34]

However, with the increasing recognition of the importance of context in the apostle’s theologizing, and the observation that we see Paul always thinking under pressure, usually in the heat of immediate controversy,[35] it became doubtful whether it was meaningful to speak of the apostle’s theology independently of context. There might not be a timeless, general or even coherent theology in the Pauline texts.[36] Context and theological content were thus thought to be inextricably bound together. The observation that Paul was a situational theologian was considered a significant development in Pauline scholarship.[37] Henceforth, there commenced a scholarly preoccupation with context, which sometimes issued in parallelomania.[38] At the same time, "many New Testament scholars . . . became wary of a synthetic, or so-called ‘Biblical Theology’ treatment of the apostle,[39] and a preference for analytic, descriptive scholarship arose. Those studying Paul’s anthropology responded to this wider scholarly trend with several works committed to contextualizing the origin and development of the apostle’s anthropology. R. Jewett investigated the conflict situations" in which the apostle’s anthropology was forged;[40] T. Laato sought to uncover the anthropological presuppositions underlying Pauline and Jewish soteriology;[41] and G. H. Van Kooten situated the source of Paul’s anthropological terminology in a Greco-Roman context.[42]

W. D. Stacey’s

research into the apostle’s anthropology, which exhibits both lexical and contextual dimensions, occupies an intermediate position here.[43]

As may be evident from these works, contextual preoccupations issued in the concomitant debate regarding which tradition—Jewish or Hellenistic—was more appropriate to Paul’s anthropology, a pursuit complicated by the apparent presence of both allegedly Jewish and Hellenistic anthropological terms in Paul’s letters.[44] Hence, D. E. Aune remarks, Paul’s understanding of the human person and the extent to which his anthropological perspectives were influenced by Jewish or Hellenistic models continues to be debated.[45] However, this endeavor was predicated on the assumption that scholars actually knew what constituted the anthropologies of these respective cultures. It was assumed that "the Greek view[46] was Plato’s distinction between the νοῦς and σῶμα, and their essential divisibility; and that the Hebrew doctrine of man is ‘monistic’[47] and hence the language of the Biblical writings is aspectival, not partitive."[48] However, it subsequently became apparent that the Judaism/Hellenism distinction was itself untenable, and hence that it might be advisable to postulate a homogeneous culture throughout the relevant geographical territory.[49] Likewise, the anthropologies correlated with this distinction were also considered deeply problematic. The notion that Greek anthropology was dualistic and Hebrew anthropology monistic was difficult to maintain.[50] Currently, this debate remains unresolved, and indicates the need for a new approach to Paul’s anthropology.

However, not all discussions of the apostle’s anthropology were directly implicated in this debate, primarily because their field of interest was much more circumscribed. Instead of endeavoring to investigate the origin and characterization of Paul’s anthropology as a whole, several scholars concentrated on particular anthropological terms. These works might be seen as a response to the observation that the anthropological terminology the apostle employs is both diverse and frequently polymorphous.[51] The term σάρξ, for example, exhibits a wide semantic field without any apparent stable semantic core. Moreover, as J. Murphy-O’Connor observes, Paul has a penchant for using the same term with different meanings in various contexts.[52] Indeed, these qualities of the apostle’s anthropological terminology have engendered the suggestion that Paul’s use of anthropological terms is quite careless,[53] and consequently neither original, systematic, nor consistent.[54] In their respective studies,

J. A. T. Robinson

[55] and R. H. Gundry[56] might be said to address this claim by seeking to reveal continuity in Paul’s use of the term σῶμα, the former against an allegedly Jewish, monistic, background, and the latter within a dualistic framework. Overall, however, progress in the study of Paul’s anthropology has been tardy, halting, and circuitous, and the debate remains in its early stages.[57]

With these remarks concerning wider scholarly trends concluded, we shall now take a closer look at the extant literature, appended to which are a few critical remarks. It is hoped that this will reveal some of the difficulties involved in studying Paul’s anthropology, before setting off on our own adventure into this challenging territory.

3. Previous Studies of Paul’s Anthropology

• J. A. T. Robinson—The Body: A Study in Pauline Theology

Exposition

It would not be necessary to consider this work were it not for its tripartite architectonic, which has a bearing on our own methodology. This study sets out from the premise that in his use of σῶμα and σάρξ, the most decisive words in Pauline anthropology,[58] Paul is indebted to the Hebrew בָּשָׂך (basar), a word translated in the LXX by both these terms. What the Hebrews described with one word—the whole life-substance of men or beasts as organised corporeal forms (p. 13)—is described in Greek with two words (p. 14).[59] Unlike its Greek counterpart, σῶμα, which partitioned a man off from his neighbour, בָּשָׂך (basar) does not imply individuation, but was rather what bound him in the bundle of life with all men and nature (p. 15). It is this corporal (p. 50) understanding that underlies the apostle’s use of σῶμα.[60] With these presuppositions in place, J. A. T. Robinson follows Paul’s use of this term through three moments, where it appears respectively as the body of flesh (pp. 11–33), the body of the cross (pp. 34–48), and the body of the resurrection (pp. 49–84).

Predicated of the σῶμα in its ontological (neutral) sense, σάρξ entails human infirmity (Gal. 4:13; Rom. 6:19), and distance from God (2 Cor. 4:11; Col. 2:21); it collectively means man in his ‘worldliness,’ in the solidarity of existence (p. 21). Because of its inherent weakness, σάρξ succumbs to sin, whereby it takes on an ethical meaning (Rom. 8:4–7), and binds humans to a world fallen under sin and death (p. 22). Likewise, σῶμα stands for man as being ‘in the world,’ an integral part of creation under the domination of sin and death (pp. 29–30). However, while σάρξ remains subject to sin, σῶμα follows an alternative trajectory and is the carrier of his resurrection (p. 26); it is the link between Paul’s Christology, ecclesiology, and soteriology. Hence, "whileσάρξstands for man, in the solidarity of creation, in his distance from God, σῶμαstands for man, in the solidarity of creation, as made for God (p. 31; italics original). Moving on to the body of the cross," Robinson introduces a change of referent. Whereas previously his interest was the human body, albeit considered in its corporeality, he now discusses Christ’s body in its redemptive role. Assuming a σῶμα, Christ liberated humans from sin, death, and the law. This involved three progressive stages, "the self-identification of God to the limit . . . with the body of flesh of the fallen state (p. 37; italics original); the defeat of the forces of evil"

(p. 40);

and the assumption by believers of what Christ has done in His flesh-body on the Cross (p. 43). Through baptism believers become part of Christ’s body so literally that all that happened in and through that body in the flesh can be repeated in and through him (p. 47).

Under the heading the body of the resurrection, Robinson again introduces a new referent, σῶμα as the ecclesiastical Body of Christ. Predicated of the church (the body of Christ), σῶμα is to be understood as ‘something not corporate but corporal" (p. 50; italics original), and designates a person in which believers become literally the risen organism of Christ’s person in all its concrete reality (p. 51). Hence, when Paul speaks of the Body of Christ, he is not using a metaphor, but is postulating a material entity that actually is "the resurrection body of Christ (p. 51; italics original). As members of this body, believers are liberated from the powers of sin and death, and participate in the powers of the age to come"

(p. 73).

This is a process that commences with baptism and terminates at the parousia. When, in 2 Cor. 5:1, Paul asserts, We have a building from God [οἰκοδομὴν ἐκ θεοῦ ἔχομεν], he is not referring to the individual bodies of believers, but to the body of Christ, the eschatological community or habitation from heaven proleptically enjoyed by those in Christ. Only as members of Christ (2 Cor. 3:18; Rom. 6:11–13) does individual somatic transformation occur: the glory of Christ’s resurrection body can and must shine out of His members (p. 73). The individual σῶμα πνευματικόν (1 Cor. 15:44)—like the σῶμα τῆς ἁμαρτίας (Rom. 6:6), which connect humans to a fallen world—is that which binds humans to the recreated universe in Christ (p. 79). The renewed σῶμα is meaningless if considered outside this context; it is a new solidarity (pp. 79, 80) only to be revealed at the parousia when Christ becomes all in all.

Critical Evaluation

Throughout his treatment, Robinson emphasizes the corporal aspect of Paul’s anthropology. The body is that which connects humans together and binds them to creation as a whole. He supports

D. E. H. Whiteley

, who claims, Many of St. Paul’s fundamental doctrines can be properly understood only if we realise that he took for granted the presupposition of human solidarity.[61] However, this gives rise to a predominantly passive and deterministic delineation of humans. Because it entails participation in the solidarity of creation (p. 31), to be a σῶμα is to submit to transcendent forces. Human agency remains distinctly in the background. It is because Robinson omits, or rather subordinates, individuality to corporeality that he interprets 2 Cor. 5:1–10 in terms of the corporate body of Christ, an exegesis repudiated by many scholars (see chapter 7.2). Thus, while recognizing the importance of powers such as sin and death in Paul’s symbolic universe, this should not be emphasized to the exclusion of individual agency. The balance between corporate and individual must be carefully maintained. This can be observed by briefly considering the apostle’s hamartiology. In Rom. 5:12–21, Paul elaborates the corporate perspective when he describes the entry of Sin into the cosmos, and its assumption by all through Adam’s παράβασις (Rom. 5:14); conversely, in Rom. 1:18–28, the apostle details the particular sins perpetrated by humans—commencing with idolatry—that gave rise to God’s wrath. Thus, what is described objectively from a corporate perspective is also described subjectively from an individual perspective. Both perspectives are equally valid. But what is of particular importance to us, as remarked, is Robinson’s tripartite architectonic, the division of his study into three moments that correspond to Paul’s eschatological view of the aeons. This reveals the dynamic nature of the apostle’s anthropology, which precludes ascribing to any part or aspect of humans an inherent, immutable value. Nevertheless, the utility of this approach has not been satisfactorily exploited because of the change of referent—human body, Christ’s flesh-body, and the ecclesiastical body of Christ—as he considers the σῶμα in each moment.

• R. Jewett—Paul’s Anthropological Terms

Exposition

In the first half of the twentieth century a number of lexical studies of Paul’s anthropological terms were published.[62] It was assumed that underlying the apostle’s varied use of any given term were a number of discrete categories that collectively represented each term’s semantic field. However, this frequently involved abstracting Paul’s anthropological terms from their immediate context or interpreting them in accordance with predetermined categories.

J. Barr

criticized this procedure when he remarked that biblical language should be approached at the level of the larger linguistic complexes such as sentences.[63] It was from this recognition that

R. Jewett

set out to provide a broad study of Paul’s anthropological terms that included an extensive treatment of context. Thus, he criticized the approach that entails the virtual abstraction of the term from its context in the argument as a whole, and those who make Paul into a system builder.[64] In contrast, his new approach

(p. 1)

sought to situate these terms within three contextual levels

(p. 6).

Rejecting the method employed in lexical studies, he considers each anthropological term in the literary context of the sentence, the paragraph and the letter as a whole (p. 7). Related to this is the linguistic horizon of the first-century Mediterranean world, which includes the Hellenistic, Jewish, and popular philosophical applications of these anthropological terms. The synchronic study of language must also engage a number of extralinguistic phenomena that collectively form the context of situation,[65] the concrete historical circumstances in which Paul’s utterances are embedded.

It has been observed that some of Paul’s anthropological terms, such as ψυχικός (1 Cor. 2:14; 15:44, 46) and ἔξω ἄνθρωπος/ἔσω ἄνθρωπος (2 Cor. 4:16), appear exclusively in particular letters; others, such as σῶμα (1 Thess. 5:23; Gal. 6:17; 1 Cor. 6:13; 2 Cor. 10:10; Rom. 4:19), are employed throughout the corpus. Jewett suggests that the reason for this distribution of usages is the argumentative situation of the particular letter. Thus, to understand the incidence, formation, and development of Paul’s anthropological terms, we must consider the conflict situation in which they are employed. In particular, it is in conflict with the opposing anthropological views of his interlocutors that the apostle’s own anthropology developed. These views in turn are characteristic of various philosophical/religious groups prevalent in the first century Mediterranean world. To determine the identity of these groups, Jewett engages in mirror reading supported by historical understanding. The colorful array of antagonists he enumerates—Judaizers, libertinists, gnostics, divine men—are thus correlated with particular arguments and terminology that feature in Paul’s polemic. For example, the presence of dualistic anthropological language in a given letter indicates that the apostle was engaged with gnostic opponents.

Because Jewett endeavors to identify those terms central to Paul’s anthropology, he traces their development and incidence in the apostle’s letters. While recognizing that the sequence of the Pauline letters is a very unsettled question (p. 11), he establishes a chronological sequence, accepting Paul’s authorship of 2 Thessalonians and drawing on W. Schmithals’s analysis of the Corinthian correspondence into six distinct letters.[66] The incidence of any given anthropological term, as remarked, is a function of the particular opponent with whom Paul was engaged. In conflict situations the apostle frequently takes up his opponent’s anthropological terms and engages his interlocutors with them polemically. These terms are subsequently discarded. Thus, such occasional terms cannot be said to belong to the core of Paul’s anthropology. In this way, consistency is decisive in identifying which terms are important to the apostle. Hence, remarking on Paul’s employment of σάρξ, Jewett claims that its flexible usage proves it not the core of the Pauline gospel (p. 123). However, this is not the only resource available for determining Paul’s genuine anthropology. While recognizing that conflict is a predominant feature in the development of Paul’s anthropological terms, he goes on to state, The uniqueness of Romans stands out in unmistakable fashion

(p. 47).

Unlike the apostle’s other letters, Jewett is unable to derive a profile of the recipient congregation or historical circumstances that called forth Paul’s Letter to the Romans. This has important consequences. Both the absence of a polemical setting and the systematic character of this letter imply that here if anywhere within the Pauline corpus one should expect to find a systematic definition and use of these terms (p. 48).

Following a detailed discussion of Paul’s usages and the development of his anthropological terms, Jewett summarizes his results. Beginning with the καρδία, he contends that this term is employed by Paul in primarily nonpolemical settings, and exhibits a popular Jewish understanding of man as a whole viewed from his intentionality. The term is also used against the libertinists to counter the idea that humans are autonomous pneumatic beings (pp. 447–48). Ψυχή is frequently used in personal contexts when Paul speaks of himself and his coworkers (for example, Phil. 2:19; Rom. 16:4), and carries the sense of one’s earthly life characteristic of its use in the Hebrew Bible. In the Corinthian correspondence, the apostle adopts the dualistically nuanced ψυχικός from his gnostic opponents (1 Cor. 2:14; 15:44, 46), in support of somatic resurrection, but subsequently discards this term from his anthropology (pp. 448–49). Like καρδία, νοῦς belongs to the earliest ascertainable level of Pauline theology, and is present in anti-enthusiastic settings (1 Cor. 1:10; 2:16; 14:14). It signifies a constellation of thoughts and assumptions, but is conspicuously absent from 2 Corinthians, in response to its possible misunderstanding in his earlier letter to this congregation (p. 450). The term σάρξ predominates in polemical settings, and is first used in conflict with the Galatian nomists, where it denotes circumcised flesh (Gal. 2:16). The term is then associated with a power dominant in the old aeon (Gal. 4:21–31), and emerges in opposition to the libertinists (Gal. 5:13ff.), with personal, psychological, and cosmological connotations (p. 453). In Phil. 3:3–4, in opposition to nomists, σάρξ is used to define confidence in the law; in addition, the neutral meaning the worldly sphere is present in Phil. 1:22, 24. Subsequently, σάρξ is employed as a synonym for σῶμα (1 Cor. 6:16; 15:39; 2 Cor. 7:1), to obviate the possibility that gnostic opponents might use the σάρξ-πνεῦμα dichotomy to support their antisomatic arguments. After assuming a number of diverse meanings throughout the Corinthian correspondence, the term appears in Romans, where it is characterised on the one side by a more consistently negative definition as the circumcised flesh and thus the whole range of human achievement which can provide the means of self-justification (p. 455). The flexibility of this term, he argues, indicates its peripheral importance in Paul’s anthropology.

Leaving its corporate meaning aside, σῶμα appears in exhortations and arguments against gnostics, but can infrequently refer to the observable human body (for example, 1 Cor. 5:3; 9:27; 2 Cor. 5:10). In Romans, σῶμα is used in the sense of the somatic ground of existence in both aeons; it is that in which the degeneration of nonbelievers is objectified (Rom. 1:24), and hence is employed synonymously with σάρξ in Rom. 7:24–25, 8:9–13, in reference to the mortal body and body of death (p. 457). Moreover, σῶμα underlies a number of soteriological themes, including resurrection (Rom. 8:11), redemption (Rom. 8:23), and bodily worship (Rom. 12:1); and it is the body of Christ who is the agent of resurrection (Rom. 7:4). Finally, the terms ἔξω ἄνθρωπος and ἔσω ἄνθρωπος were adopted by Paul from his gnostic opponents and used in 2 Cor. 4:16 against divine-man missionaries, where the inner human is identified with the heart, and the outer human with the physical body. In Rom. 7:22, the term ἔσω ἄνθρωπος is again present, and is employed to describe the νοῦς of the pre-Christian man (p. 460). The gnostic identification of inner human with the pneumatic core of a person is reflected in Paul’s use of this term.

Critical Evaluation

Jewett demonstrates the importance of context in understanding Paul’s anthropological terms. However, his reconstruction of conflict situations, which involves both linguistic and historical dimensions, introduces a number of presuppositions into his treatment. Indeed, his thesis is ultimately a tissue of assumptions. Internal evidence from the letters must always be primary in delineating Paul’s opponents; anything peripheral to this is ultimately hypothesis.[67] Similarly, while there is doubt about the chronology of the apostle’s letters (a situation that will probably obtain indefinitely), any theory of development must be treated as tentative. What disposes scholars to engage in mirror reading is what S. Sandmel refers to as parallelomania.[68] The presence in a given primary document of specific terms or phrases allegedly characteristic of a group is taken as a direct reference to this group. The problematic nature of this procedure has been demonstrated with respect to the alleged gnosticism of Paul’s opponents. Historical research has revealed that gnosticism, as Jewett understands it, did not emerge until the second or third century.[69] To claim that Paul’s anthropological terms developed in opposition to gnostics is thus to perpetrate an anachronism involving the fallacy of causation, which postulates a spurious cause for an observable phenomenon.[70] The difficulties that confront mirror reading are also considerable. It must be presupposed that we actually know which words and phrases belong to a particular opponent. This involves an array of issues, including questions of frequency, clarity, unfamiliarity, and emphasis, all of which open up the possibility of misinterpretation. Overinterpretation occurs when every statement not obviously consonant with Paul’s position is correlated with a given opponent. Thus, J. M. G. Barclay comments, not every denial by Paul need reflect an explicit assertion by opponents.[71]

Moreover, as we learn from the apostle’s letters, the same ideas can be expressed in a variety of ways.[72] Hence, words must give way to meanings. In this sense, terminology that Paul putatively adopts from his opponents, and subsequently discards, may not be important, but the ideas attaching to his use of these terms may illuminate important contours of his anthropology. What happens when we concentrate on words is that we make untenable assumptions, with the result that the text comes into conflict with the presuppositions. Thus, in 1 Cor. 5:5, Jewett observes Paul employing σάρξ with a sense otherwise attributed to gnostics. In the absence of a plausible explanation, he remarks, Paul does not appear to have sensed the theological implications of his usage at this point (p. 124).[73] Here it is necessary for the interpreter to accost Paul, and upbraid him for not conforming to his interpretation! Finally, the claim that the apostle’s anthropology developed in conflict situations seems to imply that the apostle was an occasional thinker without a consistent view of humans, at least until his systematic definition in Romans (p. 48). While recognizing that Paul’s letters are not systematic theology, this does not entail that he did not possess consistent ideas. Thus, it might be more appropriate to speak of the unfolding of Paul’s anthropology in a variety of circumstances, rather than development. Indeed, if the apostle did not actually hold a normative anthropology at the time he dictated 1 Thessalonians, he would not have been able to engage in conflict, which always presupposes a position.

• R. H. Gundry—Sōma in Biblical Theology

Exposition

Jewett’s emphasis was methodological; R. H. Gundry, in contrast, commences with an idea—ontological dualism—which he employs to interpret Paul’s anthropological utterances. Because of its importance for the apostle’s view of humans, what is said about the σῶμα has implications for his anthropology as a whole. Thus, despite concentrating on the term σῶμα, Gundry’s endeavor is to provide a consistent dualistic reading of Paul’s anthropology. In his view, the apostle is adopting the dualistic understanding of humans prevalent both in the LXX and the ancient world generally. His thesis is that "Paul never uses sōma as a technical term for the whole person but always for man’s physique (p. 83), which stands over against the nonphysical part of humans as its necessary concomitant. The σῶμα is a substantival entity, by means of which humans act in the world; it is the instrument of performing and receiving actions."[74] In and through the body as object, humans are implicated in a number of external relationships that in turn have a rebound effect and react upon the body as subject:

It [the σῶμα] is that part of man through which he first receives actions which originate elsewhere. Synthetically, the entire man is the object. Analytically, his body is the immediate object; his inner man is the ultimate object. Spirit [the anthropological spirit, throughout this quotation] and body are, at the same time, both subjects or both objects, depending on whether the action goes from or comes to the man. But always sōma represents the instrumental part of man which expresses the spirit when the man is subject and affects the spirit when the man is object. (p. 196)

That Paul interprets humans dualistically can be demonstrated, he argues, positively by considering the many instances of dichotomous material in his letters, chief among which is 2 Cor. 4:16: Even though our outer nature [ἔξω ἄνθρωπος] is wasting away, our inner nature [ἔσω ἄνθρωπος] is being renewed day by day. Gundry comments, The contrast between inner and outer man was native to Hellenistic thought. . . . Paul makes the same distinction between the physical and the non-physical (p. 135). The ἔξω ἄνθρωπος is the material σῶμα through which humans act in the world, the base of operations for sin (p. 50); conversely, the ἔσω ἄνθρωπος is the immaterial νοῦς and πνεῦμα that opposes, but frequently succumbs to, sin because of the body’s physical needs and desires (p. 138). This struggle is depicted in the unregenerate human of Rom. 7:14–24, whose ἔσω ἄνθρωπος or νοῦς, despite wanting to fulfill the law, submits to the desires of his flesh or members (outer human), whereby the whole ‘I’ becomes a sinner (p. 140). Correspondingly, in the regenerate human, both parts of this duality must unite in consecration (p. 140). In these and other texts (for example, Rom. 12:1–2; 1 Cor. 5:3–5; Col. 2:5), Paul can be seen to support an anthropological duality, albeit not an ethical duality.[75] Both parts of this dualism are essential to human beings if they are to fulfill their obligations to God. However, the apostle repeatedly (1 Cor. 5:3–5; 2 Cor. 12:2–3; 5:1–10; Col. 2:5) implies the separability of the inner man from the body (p. 146). Thus, when Paul remarks, Though I am absent in body [σῶμα], yet I am with you in spirit [πνεῦμα], he is suggesting that the human spirit can operate independently of the body. Accordingly, Gundry affirms, the inner exists without the outer (pp. 135, 146, 147). This contradicts the claim that Paul holds a concept of man as an indivisible whole (p. 141). The total separation brought about by death implies that body and the spirit die together (p. 159).

Nevertheless, he continues, it should not be assumed that the inner, incorporeal part of humans stands closer to God than the outer, corporeal part. The inner human, despite possessing the desire to fulfill the law of God (Rom. 7:22), is capable of defilement like the outer human. Thus, Gundry contends, Paul does not correlate the body with worldly affairs of the Lord or pit the body as evil agent against the spirit as good (p. 140). Recognizing that the σῶμα is instrumental in objectifying actions originating in the inner human, and not exclusively the recipient of external phenomena, entails that sin might originate within the subject-self just as well as outside (p. 205). This has important consequences for Paul’s hamartiology. While many scholars acknowledge the centrality in Paul’s theologizing of transcendent powers (including sin) that dominate and influence humans, Gundry argues that the definition of σῶμα as object "leads to an over-emphasis on sin as an outside power (p. 205; italics original). Hence, the understanding of sōma also affects the way we look at sin as slave-service" (p. 213). He consistently implies that postulating an external source of sin exculpates humans from their particular sins by construing them as the product of an alien power (pp. 206, 207, 210). Sin might indeed have an origin outside humans, but it is better understood, according to Gundry, as the result of a sinful proclivity which is his [a person’s] own (p. 206). Thus, while not completely excluding the influence of transcendent powers (p. 213), he argues that humans are ultimately victims of their own wrongdoing, the choice of evil within, and thraldom, primarily to his own lusts (pp. 206, 207, 213). Sin is "an outside power only in that it shouldnot belong to human nature" (p. 206, italics in original). In Rom. 1:18–28, God abandons humans not because they submit to sin (understood as a transcendent power), but because of their own ethical rebellion. Thus, when Paul discusses guilt consequent on sin, he invariably connects it with the forensic category of justification, rather than the cosmological category of release from servitude to powers (Rom. 4:24–25; 5:6–11; Gal. 3:13; 2 Cor. 5:19, 21).

Gundry repudiates the claim that the relationship between σῶμα and σάρξ (considered as the material of which the body is composed) is to be understood in terms of the distinction between form and substance: "sōma means the body, substance-cum-form without differentiation (p. 162). But because he considers this substance as exclusively material, the result is that in his exposition, the σῶμα is invariably understood as a physical, corporeal entity. Accordingly, to speak of an immaterial body is a contradiction in terms" (p. 167); σῶμα is material by definition. This has important soteriological consequences, the most far-reaching of which is the claim that the resurrection body will be a material body (p. 169). When Paul distinguishes the σῶμα ψυχικόν from the σῶμα πνευματικόν

(1 Cor. 15:44),

he does not mean that the resurrection body will be composed of πνεῦμα; instead, it will be a spirit-ruled body (pp. 164, 167) or a body appropriate to heavenly immortality (p. 165). Spiritual continuity is a necessary, but not a sufficient, condition for personal continuity between the old body and the new body—physical continuity is also needed (p. 175). Thus, both parts of the anthropological duality are to form the resurrection inheritance of believers.

Critical Evaluation

Gundry sets out to provide a definitive understanding of σῶμα, and applies the same understanding to this term throughout his exposition. This gives rise to an altogether static view of Paul’s anthropology. The σῶμα that believers inherit at the resurrection is identical to the one they currently assume. Both bodies are physical, which appears to contradict Paul’s claim that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God (1 Cor. 15:50). Thus, he leaves no room for the occurrence of meaningful transformation that is so important in Paul’s view of humans (1 Cor. 3:1; 2 Cor. 6:13; Phil. 1:25; 1 Thess. 4:1). This follows inevitably from an unwarranted restriction of the semantic field of σῶμα to a single meaning, namely, man’s physique (p. 83).[76] What starts out as a conceptual restriction issues in an anthropological restriction that predetermines Paul’s meaning on each occasion he employs this term. However, the terms the apostle uses to describe humans are, as earlier remarked, frequently polymorphous, and thus present various meanings according to context.[77] Meaning is a function of context.[78]

Moreover, despite asserting that the νοῦς (or ἔσω ἄνθρωπος) is not to be accorded greater value than the σῶμα (or ἔξω ἄνθρωπος) (p. 140), Gundry appears somewhat ambivalent on this point. Thus, in his treatment of Rom. 7:14–24, the inner human becomes a sinner because it is unable to resists the desires of the flesh, entailing that the incorporeal part of humans only sins negatively (p. 138). This conflicts with Paul’s recognition that the νοῦς is the source of idolatry (Rom. 1:18–28), which is a positive sin. Similarly, in his discussion of 2 Cor. 4:16, he equates the ἔξω ἄνθρωπος and the ἔσω ἄνθρωπος with the material σῶμα and immaterial νοῦς respectively, but does not appear to recognize the distinct values Paul assigns to the inner human and outer human when he claims that the former wastes away, whereas the latter is renewed day by day. The apostle is implying that the inner human has a future, whereas the outer human has not. This interpretation illustrates N. T. Wright’s statement: However much we may deny it, an anthropological dualism tends to devalue or downgrade the body.[79] Indeed, Gundry’s tacit recognition of the superiority of the incorporeal νοῦς sometimes verges on solipsism. Because the physical body is that part of man in and through which he lives and acts in the world (p. 50),[80] the mind has no direct access to the outside world. The σῶμα is a kind of buffer that separates the world from the inner human, the ultimate object (p. 196).

His understanding of sin also reflects the view that humans are objectified, isolated individuals, possessing sufficient autonomy to act independently of the cosmos. Presupposing that the activity of transcendent powers excludes moral responsibility, Gundry claims that ethical rebellion is ultimately initiated by humans who become slaves to their own physical desires and not to outside powers. Significantly, he does not have anything to say about Rom. 5:12–21, in which the idea of Sin (with a capital s) as a transcendent power is dominant. Humans are thus severed from the cosmos, and the interlinking of the various facets of Paul’s theologizing is sundered. In sum, this is a static, rationalized understanding of Paul’s anthropology that represents a one-sided conception of the economy of salvation in that it fails to consider the objective, cosmic structures that influence humans. In this sense, it is a rather vapid reflection of Paul’s symbolic universe.[81]

• T. Laato—Paul and Judaism: An Anthropological Approach

Exposition

E. P. Sanders’s epochal work brought about a paradigm shift in how scholars understand Paul’s relationship with Judaism.[82] With the expression patterns of religion, he sought to identify the logical phases whereby a person enters and maintains membership in Palestinian Judaism and the Pauline communities respectively. Thus, patterns of religion overlaps, but is not coextensive with, soteriology. After surveying diverse primary sources, Sanders concluded that the dominant pattern of religion in Palestinian Judaism was covenantal nomism: getting in was effected by God’s grace, but staying in was effected by observance of the Torah. A similar pattern, he argues, is evident in the Pauline communities, where fruits of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22–23) presuppose the action of grace. Thus, it is not the soteriology of Palestinian Judaism that Paul finds problematic, but simply the fact that "it is not Christianity."

T. Laato criticizes Sanders’s methodology because the anthropological approach to the respective religions is not sufficiently taken into account.[83] While the issue of human capability is omitted from discussion, the relationship between grace and works remains incomplete, a torso (p. 60). Any given pattern of religion presupposes a particular anthropology that determines its soteriological parameters. Hence, we need to ask "what a person according to a specified religion can do on behalf of salvation (p. 50; italics mine). He suggests that the process of salvation in Palestinian Judaism appears to presuppose a much more active role on the part of humans than does the Pauline pattern of religion (p. 60). Moreover, it is well-known common property in Judaism that the human being is considered to have free will" (p. 67), as is evident from Pss. Sol. 9:4–5; 4 Ezra 8:55–58; 2 Bar. 54:15, 19, and Deut. 11:26. The only exception is the Dead Sea Scrolls, which, he argues, endorse absolute fatalism (p. 72). Accordingly, Laato contends that, despite an inborn propensity to evil, humans are able to exercise free will and thus have the power to do good (p. 73). In contrast, the gulf to the Pauline way of thinking . . . appears unbridgeable (p. 75). For Paul, humans exist under the powers of ἁμαρτία and σάρξ, which exert a transsubjective reign of terror, and thus humans are incapable to do good or even to choose it (pp. 75, 76).[84] The absence of free will is consistently maintained by the apostle, particularly in Rom. 5:12–21, which illustrates the objective aspects of human domination by Sin (with a capital s); and Rom. 6:12, 7:13–25, 8:10, which demonstrate the subjective aspect of sin that prohibits humans from doing good and curtails freedom of will (pp. 102–18). All are under ἁμαρτία (Rom. 3:9) because Adam (Hebr. ‘human’) represents the whole of humanity, and his fall into sin fixes their destiny (p. 105). Having elaborated the distinct anthropologies in Palestinian Judaism and the Pauline communities, Laato returns to Sanders’s patterns of religion. To enter the Jewish covenant, proselytes must accept the Torah out of free will (p. 149); likewise, those born into Palestinian Judaism, while belonging to the covenant by birth, must later renew by their own free will entrance to the covenant (p. 150). Conversely, to assume membership of Paul’s congregations presupposes a creative act on the part of God who engenders faith through the gospel, and this "creative action excludes human cooperation" (p. 151; my italics). Believers do not exercise free will in responding to the gospel in faith; the preaching of the gospel produces faith (1 Cor. 4:15; cf. Phil. 1:29). Hence, God has elected that which is nothing

(1 Cor. 1:28).

As noted above, Sanders argued that while getting in to Palestinian Judaism was effected by God’s covenant with Israel, staying in required the performance of the Torah; similarly, while getting in to Paul’s communities was the work of God’s grace, staying in requires fruits of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22–23). However, Laato contends that the importance of works in Judaism should not be underestimated. Indeed, obedience to the law is a conditio sine qua non for salvation (p. 158), and hence "the Jew does gain a place in the future world (p. 157; italics original). The importance of works for staying in is a function of an anthropology that presupposes free will. This is not the case in Paul’s congregations, where good works do not at all effect remaining in Christ. They rather show that one has entered communion with God by grace"

(p. 159).

At the same time Paul continues to exhort believers to refrain from sin, and perform works consonant with the Holy Spirit (Rom. 2:12–16; 1 Cor. 3:10–13; 2 Cor. 5:10; Gal. 5:19–21). Nevertheless, unlike the pattern of religion in Palestinian Judaism, the apostle does not separate