Paul and the Apocalyptic Imagination
Page 13
The Powers, Active and Watching
Indeed, this knowledge may be said to surpass the knowledge of unseen beings! We hear about this from the apostle only in passing, as he argues the centrality of the cross. Paul’s pastoral concern in the opening chapters of 1 Corinthians is that of schism, but he develops a theological and argumentative excursus that goes beyond the practical needs. Yes, he is holding his weakness up as an example of humility for the church. But he also trains his eyes upon the mystery evident in the cross: “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. . . . We sound forth the concealed Wisdom of God in a mystery, that Wisdom decided before all ages by God for our glory, which wisdom none of the archons of this aeon recognized, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory!” (1 Cor. 2:7–8). Some, of course, will want to restrict Paul’s meaning of archontes to human potentates, but this is very unlikely, considering Paul’s description of them in 2:6 as bound for destruction, and his reference to them as finally “destroyed” in the dénouement of the cosmic plan (15:24–28). No, Paul here shares with his community a belief in “Powers” who are interconnected, no doubt, with human authorities, but who remain unseen, and who are ultimately responsible for the death of Jesus. What that act unleashed, though, was more than they anticipated. Jesus crucified, the quintessential Sign of weakness to the archons, has become the Source of all wisdom and power, he implies. This mystery supports the polemic against human wisdom that undergirds 1 Corinthians. To really see the mystery of weakness and strength is to put all other human arguments in perspective.
This same line of reasoning is echoed in Paul’s reference to the shameful display of the apostles before the cosmos, before both angels and humans (1 Cor. 4:9). Here, as in chapter 2, Paul’s unexplained assumptions concerning unseen participants—whether as actors or as spectators—play an important role in his argument. In chapter 2, the apparent wisdom of unseen spiritual agents, bearing down upon the human rulers of the world, is ranged against the surprising wisdom and power of the cross: what even supernatural beings could not fathom can now be taught in the church, as spiritual things are taught to those who have been incorporated into Christ. In chapter 4, the weakness of the apostles, witnessed to by both unseen and human spectators, itself participates in the unexpected strategy that Paul insists is at play: foolishness and weakness make eventually for wisdom and strength. This is the dynamic that is argued, directly in chapter 2 and ironically in chapter 4, while the role of unseen beings in this scenario adds to the substantive nature of the arguments. Not even the unseen archontes understand truly what and whom the apostles are proclaiming; not even their scorn can diminish what God has done and is about to do in the human realm! They will pass away, but God’s power and wisdom will be established.
Galatians, Power, and Place
The most argumentative of Paul’s letters is, by consensus, Galatians. At both the beginning and the ending of this letter, Paul “ups the ante” by associating himself with an angelic figure: first, as he speaks of the adulteration of the gospel, which they should reject, even if he “or an angel from heaven” (1:8) were to engage in it; then, when he recalls the reception the Galatians first gave him, as an “angel of God” (4:14) or even as though he were Christ himself! Both the hypothetical possibility of their being deceived (perhaps not so entirely hypothetical), and the memory of their actual reception of the gospel, serve to underscore the seriousness of his polemic. The reference to angels adds to the pathos and ethos here forged: curiously, in reverse order to the conventions of oratorical beginnings and endings! Then, within the center of Galatians’s argument, we hear that the Torah was given through angels by a mediating hand (3:19), and that the Jewish people were, while in their infancy, placed under the στοιχεῖα τοῦ κόσμου (4:3), in parallel to the gentiles who also were enslaved to unseen powers that “are not gods by nature” (4:8–9). Though elsewhere Paul insists that the Torah itself is holy, whereas the gods of other nations are merely usurping demons, here, he grants these an equivalency for the sake of argument, dissuading the Galatian gentiles from heeding the Judaizers. The unseen powers provide strong ammunition for his case since, by appealing to them, he can diminish the importance of the Torah in the present state of affairs. It is consistent with the penultimate authority of the Torah to note that it did not, in fact, come directly from God’s hand. Indeed, the full revelation of the gospel, which places Christ in the center, justifies his classification of those mediating στοιχεῖα with the more malicious powers that oppressed the gentile peoples for centuries. To turn away from Christ by supplementing the gospel with observance of Torah distinctives is, he implies, tantamount to relinquishing one’s adult position in the household. It is a return to the authority of unseen mediators, and whether these powers are by nature benign or malevolent is beside the point, since the time of tutelage or imprisonment has passed.
Nor is it only a matter of era, a matter of the question, “What time is it?” Paul also concerns himself with the source and identity of God’s people in his reference to the Jerusalem above. Here, again, we are hampered by the apostle’s intimacy with his interlocutors. “Jerusalem above” (Gal. 4:26) is simply dropped into the discussion—and as part of a complex midrashic/typological/allegorical construction![24]—without warning or explanation. As Lincoln comments, “He could introduce the concept of a heavenly Jerusalem quite casually and presuppose knowledge of it, which suggests that traditions about a heavenly Jerusalem were fairly widespread.”[25] (We see, it would seem, a very similar line of argument in the dramatic climax at Heb. 12:18–29, with its contrast between a hedged mountain and the heavenly Jerusalem). In his careful exposition of this passage, Lincoln ranges Paul’s conception of the heavenly Jerusalem less with the eschatological expectations of the prophets (cf. Isaiah 2; 54; 60–62; Ezekiel 40–48) than with the rabbinic material, which posited an actually present city in the heavenlies. However, Paul’s negative typing of the “now [present] Jerusalem” differs from the procedure of the rabbis. Lincoln also argues that the apostle “does not appear to hold that there is an actual city in heaven, for in seeing this city as the mother of all believers he relieves the concept of its purely material and national connotations.”[26] The first contrast with the rabbis is clear, but I am not so sure about his conclusions concerning the character of the city. Certainly, the Jerusalem above is not construed by the apostle in terms of Judaism alone, nor can he conceive of it as material in a naïve sense, given his category of those things understood kata sarka. However, this does not mean that there is no sense whatsoever of an actual Jerusalem above, and that the phrase is only a metaphorical way of speaking about the origin of believers, that is, their being begotten and conceived “from above.” Perhaps we get a clue in the “mixed nature of the antithesis”[27]—that is, the first Jerusalem is described in temporal terms (“now”) whereas the other is described in terms of space (“above”). By contrast, then, the first Jerusalem is the one “below,” whereas the second Jerusalem is “then.” But is “then” necessarily future, or might it also be seen as existent in an august past and in a “timeful” eternity?
Let us remember that the earthly Jerusalem was constructed according to a pattern revealed to Moses, and that this typological grammar is retained in Hebrews, relieved of Platonic stasis by reference to what has happened there. Hebrews traces the entrance of the anointed Hero beyond the veil and his stance as a present Priest among the holy things and among his saints (τῶν ἁγίων λειτουργός, Heb. 8:2), who thereby enables his own to enter among the holy things and among the saints (τῶν ἁγίων, 10:19) by the blood of Christ. Though there is an expectation of fuller residency “on that Day,” in Galatians, as in Hebrews, the present tense dominates: “she is free”; “she is our mother”; “the children . . . are more numerous”; “you . . . are children”; “so it is also now.” The “now” of the Jerusalem above differs from the limit
ed and enslaved “now” of the Jerusalem associated with Hagar. Lou Martyn would seem correct in saying that Paul is referring “emphatically to the real present” in Gal. 4:29;[28] yet, there is also a parallel series of events taking place in Paul’s “now,” since it is those events (the actions of his blinded countryman and the Judaizers) in the “now Jerusalem” (4:24) that grieve the apostle. The timeful “now” of the Jerusalem above alone is remarkable for its permanence and solidity; the “for now” enslavement of that other city has no staying power. As an analogy to the situation that St. Paul (or Hebrews, for that matter!) has in mind, consider the fantasy of C. S. Lewis’s That Hideous Strength, which makes use of the ancient tradition of Logres as a mysteriously ongoing and intensifying reality, in parallel to and over against decaying England.[29]
In some ways, perhaps, the “children” merge with the mother-City-mountain, but in other ways, they remain distinct. Just as John the seer envisions matters in Revelation 12, so here, St. Paul speaks of childbearing with effort, and of believers as children of the mother above. The heavenly City, in the understanding of first-century Christians, had not just recently come into being, but had a long and august history, in which St. Paul and the Galatians are now participating. There is continuity in God’s provision for his people, a matrix into which they are called. Yet, here, there is also something new—a way has been prepared for many, and an unprecedented power and freedom. Even amidst trouble and persecution (Gal. 4:29), the mother is delighted to welcome children whom she did not expect (4:27)! As suggested in the visionary declaration of Rev. 12:10–12, the Galatian Christians are to see themselves as inhabiting two realms, both earth and heaven. Their life is attended by the “woe” that comes for now on earth, but embraced also by the joy properly expressed by those whose home is newly opened to them (Gal. 4:29, 31 cf. Rev. 12:12).
In theological discourse, as in pastoral advice, Paul’s unseen mysteries take their role, but without careful explication. These passages provide us not only with the raw material for debate concerning their exact meaning, but also with tantalizing expressions of the intricate relationship of the past, present, and future, including a contrast between the temporary “for now” over against the permanent “now.” In dealing with the apostle’s complex arguments, we must construe both his meaning and his view of Christian identity with care.
Mystery in Liturgical Instruction
Probably the most famous reference to unseen beings is in Paul’s excursus on love, an excursus which interrupts his instruction on worship in 1 Corinthians 12 and 14. Here, the power of Paul’s opening statement regarding human and angelic language (13:1) implies a common wisdom concerning mysterious worshipping beings. The flow of the opening sentence moves from the human to angelic, to the most sublime—“if I speak in the tongues of human beings or even of angels,” but do not have love, it is insignificant.
Unseen Beings and Idolatry
A less frequently noted trope in the same letter suggests that when human beings offer a libation or partake of a common cup in their cult, they are sharing in the one who is being honored—either Christ, or a demon (10:21). Paul may adopt a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy with regard to food that has been previously blessed and is for sale on the market, since there is only one God, and the God is a one who gives true freedom (8:6–13). God, after all, is the creator of all, and so, all food ultimately is his. The apostle’s liberality, however, does not extend to the worship situation, presumably because he and the Corinthians envisage the presence of actual unseen beings in such a context. In 1 Corinthians 10, Paul carefully sets up the principle of participation in the true God by means of liturgical actions, by appealing typologically to the Old Testament (10:1–4), and by noting the unseen presence of Christ in the bizarrely “following Rock.” He then asserts the cautionary function of Old Testament precedents, and gives a command against idolatry to those who recognize the unseen presence of Christ. Finally, he appeals to the table and its constituent parts, the cup and the bread, by which both the presence of Christ and the identity of the community are understood. He encourages the Corinthians to see how this reality is incompatible with participation in idolatry, not because idols have power, but because they represent some unseen power that seeks to usurp the place of Christ—but cannot, of course, do so.
Paul’s argument is on a razor’s edge at this point, for he wants to establish the rebellion of hostile powers without dignifying them or acknowledging their power. Even his rhetorical question at 10:19 concerning the substance of idols spills over, it seems, into the realm of rival gods: are the demons themselves (not simply their images) “not anything”? His return in chapter 10 to the previous discussion of chapter 8 (whether the food can be eaten by Christians) seems disorganized, but in fact it drives home his point that God alone is the creator who has given all food, not the rival gods, who have no being, nor even the demons, in whatever form they may be said to exist. Here, then, Paul uses doubt concerning the “being” of demons—which, of course, depends upon a shared understanding concerning these entities—in order to strengthen his case. The Christian’s identity is certain, but the continued force of these other rival powers is another matter, despite their association with religious rites.
Unseen Beings and Worship
This assumption that unseen beings are, in some way, present during human worship underlies, also, the strange phrase with which we began this paper—the obscure argument concerning female deportment by reference to angels. In 1 Cor. 11:1–16, Paul appears (as in chapter 14) to be dealing with disruptions in worship that have sprung from the newfound freedom of women who misconstrued their new identity. He echoes the primeval Genesis account, but goes beyond it in interpretation when he speaks about woman created as the “glory” of man. He has, unfortunately, been misread by many on this score, including John Milton, who, in Paradise Lost, re-narrates his argument as a neatly graded scale of being, suggesting that woman is made in the image of man, who is made in the image of the Son, who is the image of the Father.
However, St. Paul never suggests that women are not also reflective of Christ’s image, for indeed, these instructions concern actions a woman performs in the community because she is in Christ, the archetypal Prophet and Priest—she prophesies and prays! What the apostle does seem to assume is that woman has a second reflective purpose, expressing also the glory of man, and thus of humanity, whom Adam represents. (Is St. Paul meditating upon Adam rejoicing “This is bone of my bone”?) It is this reflective purpose that should not be the center of focus in worship, since worship is for glorifying God, not for the exaltation of humanity. In this context, Paul goes on to develop his argument, touching upon a more esoteric part of the tradition concerning cosmic worship in the little phrase, “because of the angels.” We may assume that he does need to explain the connection between angels and liturgy to the Corinthians: perhaps they have received this in spades from those who are disturbing them, and whom he combats more strenuously in 2 Corinthians. In Isaiah 6, the angels cover their feet and sing the Thrice-Holy Hymn, while in Revelation 4–5, they orchestrate and choreograph cosmic and celestial worship, cuing the various parts of creation to adore the Lord in their peculiar way.[30] If God the Son acknowledges his head (1 Cor. 11:3), and the glorious seraphim cover themselves as they fly, then why should women be chagrined to cover their heads, acknowledging the diversity of creation and the wonder of God-with-us? In Isaiah 6, there is an antiphonal worship between angels, as “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of Hosts” refers to his transcendence, while the reply “the whole earth is full of his glory” acknowledges his immanence. So too, it seems, in human worship, men and women “speak” antiphonally, one group declaring by its posture to the entire congregation (not just to the women!) the creaturely submission that is seemly before utter Holiness, the other declaring the marvelous freedom of the anointed children of God.
Despite its abrupt appearance, the phrase “because of the angels” appe
ars not as an impermeable statement, nor as an item in a grab-bag argument for cultural norms that are incoherent with the apostle’s teaching on freedom. Rather, it may be that the apostle’s instructions on attire in worship here are doubly counter-cultural, as men are told to “uncover,” perhaps in distinction to their Jewish counterparts,[31] whereas women are to “cover,” over against the mystery cults of Corinth, where they loosened their tresses as a sign of ecstasy.[32] In any event, the reference to the angels comes as part of a carefully conceived cumulative argument that begins with a reference to Christology, anthropology, and theology (11:3), that moves on to describe the actions of worship (11:4–6), and that explains these in terms of the creation story (11:7–9). Following the reference to the angels (11:10), the apostle will remind the Corinthians of the interdependence of the created order (11:11–12), and appeals to their understanding of nature (11:13–15). Here, then, he encourages his readers to understand their identity not simply in terms of personal liberty, but in light of salvation history, cosmic reality, nature, and (as he book-ends the argument at 11:2 and 11:16), transmitted tradition. The traditions are not arbitrary, but bound up with a way of worship that does not obliterate the distinctions of nature, but naturalizes and transforms these in a larger sphere. Worshippers, whether male or female, are to be mindful that what they do in worship joins them to unseen hosts whose sole occupation is to glorify God. Many questions remain. But what we can declare on the basis of Paul’s recognition of unseen beings is that he believes that in worship, there is more than normally meets the eye—whether we are speaking of entities that may be conjured up by irregular worship (chapter 10) or angels that are present in the assembly of God (chapter 11).