The Present Constraint (ἡ ἐνεστῶσα ἀνάγκη)
and Life Mid-Apocalypse
Paul lives in a very special time. On the one hand, he awaits the “revelation” (ἀποκάλυψις) of Christ (1 Cor. 1:7), the “day of the Lord” (4:1–5; 5:5) that will “reveal” the value of each person’s work (3:11–15) and on which the world, including the angels, will be judged by the saints (6:2). On the other hand, the decisive event that has altered the structures of time and existence has already taken place. Christ has been installed, since the resurrection, as the Lord of the cosmos, and his reign is already battling with every rule, authority, and power (15:20–28). The cross has already made foolish the wisdom of this world (1:18–25) and revealed a wisdom hitherto hidden, but now disseminated by the Spirit (2:6–16). The resurrection of Christ is the “first-fruits” of the harvest (15:23), the beginning of an event whose completion is now inevitable in a timeframe that Paul does not expect to last long (“we shall not all sleep”; “the dead shall be raised and we shall be changed,” 15:51, 52). In an important sense, Paul lives mid-apocalypse. The death and resurrection of Jesus have sealed the destiny of all things: the “rulers of this age” are being rendered ineffective (καταργούμενοι, 2:6); a distinction is being created between those who are “perishing” (condemned along with the world, 11:32) and those who are being saved (1:18); and it is certain that every present power and authority will be put out of operation (καταργέω), including, finally, death (15:24–26).
This special bracket of time is what Paul calls the καιρὸς συνεσταλμένος (7:29), an unparalleled expression which appears to suggest not that a longer period of time has been “cut short” by subtraction, but that time (or opportunity) has been compressed or contracted.[5] This is the “acceptable time, the day of salvation” (2 Cor. 6:2), a window of time in which the reign of Christ has been inaugurated but remains incomplete, a time when the ages meet and overlap (1 Cor. 10:11). Believers are already distinguished from “this age” or “this world” (1 Cor. 1:20; 2:6; 3:18–21; 5:9–13), not spatially (5:10) but “politically,” in the sense that they have adopted a different orientation and a more pressing loyalty. They bear allegiance to a κύριος (12:3) whose service takes precedence in every condition of life, for both slave and free (7:20–23). The whole of their lives revolves around the recognition of this “Lord of glory” (2:8), whose death and resurrection they remember in “the Lord’s supper” and whose coming they await (11:20, 26; 16:22: μαράνα θά).
In the present, they are acutely conscious of, and frustrated by, “the present constraint” (ἡ ἐνεστῶσα ἀνάγκη, 7:26). The participle ἐνεστῶσα is variously here translated as “present” or “impending,” while the noun is commonly taken to mean “crisis” or “distress.” In fact, ἐνεστῶσα cannot mean anything other than “present” (cf. Gal. 1:4; Rom. 8:38; 1 Cor. 3:22: the latter two in contrast to “the future”).[6] And what about the noun? Does ἀνάγκη mean “distress” or “crisis,” or something else? It is commonly asserted that this is a technical term for a time of eschatological distress, the woes that beset the world at or just before its end (“messianic woes” or “messianic birth-pangs”).[7] But the linguistic basis for that assertion is extremely weak. The only texts that use this term in relation to eschatological woes are LXX Zeph. 1:15 (where ἀνάγκη is one of several terms for anguish or difficulty on the day of the Lord) and Luke 21:23, where pregnant women and nursing mothers are warned that “in those days . . . there will be ἀνάγκη μεγάλη on the earth and wrath on this people.” But even here, “distress” or “crisis” is hardly the most obvious translation. The term ἀνάγκη commonly has the meaning “necessity,” “compulsion,” or “fate”: it expresses a force of compulsion or constraint. This is how Paul uses the term on several occasions, contrasting ἀνάγκη with freedom of choice.[8] By extension, it can mean circumstances that bring one under constraint or dire necessity, such as imprisonment or captivity, the acute necessities created by famine, or torture.[9] Hence, Paul uses the term (in the plural, or in the phrase πᾶσα ἡ ἀνάγκη) to refer to physical constrictions, necessities, punishments, and (perhaps) tortures (2 Cor. 6:4–5; 12:10; 1 Thess. 3:7). This is the sense in which Luke uses the term in the verse cited above (Luke 21:23): in those days, people will be in dire straits regarding the physical needs of life, and this will be particularly bad for women who are pregnant or nursing a baby. There is no reason to consider this word a terminus technicus for eschatological distress; we should expect the term to mean necessity or circumstances that cause constraint.[10] But what does Paul consider to be the present “necessity” or “circumstance of constraint”?
Two recent proposals seem to me speculative or weakly supported. Winter finds here reference to a present or impending famine in Corinth, but it is not clear why Paul would allude to this so obliquely or why famine should affect the question of marriage and not other topics in this letter (e.g., food).[11] Hays appeals to 1 Cor. 9:16 (Paul’s ἀνάγκη to preach), and considers the “present necessity” to refer to “the urgent imperative of proclaiming the gospel and doing the work of the Lord in the short time that remains.”[12] But Paul’s “necessity” in 1 Cor. 9:16 seems very specific to him, and is not applied there, or elsewhere, to other believers. And if these specific interpretations do not convince, we should not resort to the common opinion that Paul here evokes the messianic tribulations. Ἀνάγκη is not a technical term for eschatological calamity, and, despite a line of interpretation stretching back to Schweitzer, there is no indication that Paul saw his present as a time of “messianic woes” or “the birth-pangs” of the new age.[13] So, what is there about the present that can be described in the language of necessity or constraint?
“The present constraint” (ἡ ἐνεστῶσα ἀνάγκη) refers, I suggest, to a feature of “the present evil age” (ὁ αἰὼν ὁ ἐνεστώς, Gal. 1:4), the “constraint” being the inevitable mortality and decay of all things in “this age.” Life in “this world” is lived under the hegemony of “powers” and “authorities,” of which death is the final and most potent (1 Cor. 15:24–26). This power currently holds sway over all humans, and even over the bodies of believers, which are limited and vulnerable because of their weakness and corruptibility (1 Cor. 15:42–44; cf. Phil. 3:21). As Paul explains in Romans 8, this liability to corruption and death is a mark of creation’s subjugation to futility (Rom. 8:20–21)—an unwilling subjugation (οὐχ ἑκοῦσα) that is tantamount to being under constraint (for ἀνάγκη as the opposite of what is willed, see 1 Cor. 7:37; 9:16; 2 Cor. 9:7; Philem. 14).[14] This slavery to decay (δουλεία τῆς φθορᾶς) is an indelible feature of the present age, to be escaped only in the “freedom” of the future (Rom. 8:21). Meanwhile, the creation groans and writhes in pain “up to the present” (ἄχρι τοῦ νῦν, Rom. 8:22; cf. 8:18: τὰ παθήματα τοῦ νῦν καιροῦ). In other words, the present is marked by the limitation and constraint of decay.
It would make excellent sense for Paul to refer to “the present constraint” of life under the hegemony of death and decay in our context in 1 Corinthians 7. Because of this constraint, life is vulnerable to disease, pain, and death, and it would be wise to reduce that vulnerability wherever possible. The reference to “present constraint” is connected to the statement that “it is good for people to remain as they are” (7:26). This is applied to both the married and the unmarried (7:27), but the context indicates that Paul’s particular concern here is with the question whether the unmarried should marry (7:25, 28; cf. 7:32–38). “The present constraint” seems connected to Paul’s concern about “affliction in the flesh” (7:28), which is evoked to persuade the unmarried that it is better if they remain as they are. To be married is to make oneself vulnerable to an additional set of dangers, those that threaten one’s spouse, and those en
tailed in childbirth (with its enormous rate of mortality), and in the care of highly vulnerable children.[15] Under the present constraints of this mortal existence, those who marry will certainly have “physical affliction” (θλῖψις τῇ σαρκί), “and I would spare you that” (7:28).[16]
“The present constraint,” then, is the tendency towards decay characteristic of this present world, whose power and cruelty have become openly apparent, in all their hostile intent, in the wake of the counter-power of the resurrection. People have always died, in Paul’s perception, since Adam (1 Cor. 15:22), and in this sense, “the present constraint,” like “the present evil age,” is as old as humanity. What has changed since the resurrection is that this can now be seen as a temporary and transient phenomenon—it is a present constraint, but it will not hold sway in the future. The new reign of Christ is set against the rule of death. A struggle has broken out in the cosmos, and the believer is entitled to chafe against death in a way that was neither possible nor imaginable before. Believers here groan, knowing how much better is the future yet to come (Rom. 8:23), and Paul’s sage advice is that they should not increase those occasions for groaning beyond what is unavoidably necessary.[17] In the newly established force-field of conflicting powers, suffering for the gospel is inevitable, and the outer person is decaying while the inner self is being renewed (2 Cor. 4:16). In such frustrating circumstances, while marriage is no sin, its greater exposure to the forces of decay makes it an undesirable option for those who are currently unmarried.
If this reading is right, Paul’s reasoning at this point is thoroughly “apocalyptic,” but not in the manner usually imagined. He is not referring to a special period of eschatological (or messianic) woes, as the immediate prelude to the end of the cosmos: the ἀνάγκη and θλῖψις are not a particular final-era phenomenon, but the reality of all mortal existence, newly exposed in its thwarting, hostile power. Nor, as we shall see, is Paul’s appeal for singleness founded only on the shortness of time that remains. Rather, the theological basis of his reasoning is “apocalyptic” in the sense that the believers’ life is oriented to a new reality, begun in the cross and resurrection of Christ, which is at odds with the conditions of the current passing age. In this peculiar cosmic phase, the life-decisions of a believer are governed by a loyalty that will seem counter-intuitive by the standards of “this age.” In “compressed time,” these alternatives are rendered more urgent and stark, but their basis lies as much in the transience of the old world as in the imminence of its end. In this overlap of the ages, whether long or short, the believers’ investments are newly prioritized. In the light of the resurrection, they know that “the form of this world is passing away” (7:31); the present tense (παράγει) indicates that its passing has already begun.[18] The decisive change of circumstances is not to be awaited or prepared for by emergency measures, but is already in existence. Paul calls for adjustment to a present “apocalyptic” reality, in whose light marriage seems an unnecessary form of exposure to the death-soaked conditions of the present evil age.[19]
A Superior Allegiance: The Lordship of Jesus in a Passing World
Paul addresses the married, the unmarried, and the widowed in different sections of 1 Corinthians 7, and the paragraphs in 7:25–38 are unified by their focus on the παρθένοι (7:25). The term apparently refers to young women who have never been married (7:25, 36, 37, 38),[20] although the discussion broadens to include the advisability of marriage for both women and men (7:28, 32–34). For our purposes, it is significant that this section encompasses both the paragraph about “compressed time,” with its ὡς μή statements (7:29–31) and the paragraph about the divided loyalties of the married (7:32–35). Each of these offers a theological frame in which to understand marriage and singleness, but we should clearly take them together and not in isolation from each other or from their context.
The famous ὡς μή clauses are placed between the reference to “compressed time” (7:29) and the statement about the passing of the σχῆμα of this world (7:31). They grow from the former via the adverbial phrase τὸ λοιπόν (“henceforth,” 7:29), as an indication that this mode of disinvestment is related to the situation of believers mid-apocalypse. Similarly, the γάρ in 7:31 indicates that the passing of the σχῆμα of this world is foundational to the ὡς μή policy outlined in the five clauses of 7:29–31. The first concerns marriage. The three that follow might refer in particular to the emotional and financial commitments of marriage, but they might also apply more widely. In any case, the final clause is general enough to embrace all dealings with “the world”—including, but not limited to, those already listed.
Τὸ λοιπόν, ἵνα καὶ οἱ ἔχοντες γυναῖκας ὡς μὴ ἔχοντες ὦσιν
καὶ οἱ κλαίοντες ὡς μὴ κλαίοντες
καὶ οἱ χαίροντες ὡς μὴ χαίροντες
καὶ οἱ ἀγοράζοντες ὡς μὴ κατέχοντες,
καὶ οἱ χρώμενοι τὸν κόσμον ὡς μὴ καταχρώμενοι
The “as not” statements do not cancel out what precedes in the sense that they command those who do something to desist from doing it: the married are not here instructed to divorce (cf. 7:10–11) any more than purchasers are told to stop making purchases. It is presumed that such activities will continue, but in an unusual mode, with a detachment or disinvestment that reduces believers’ involvement in such activities in quality or in degree. One either buys or does not buy, but “as not owning” suggests a minimal quality of investment, an attitude to what one has acquired that hollows out the normal purposes of buying (which are precisely to own, and thus to have legal power over, one’s possessions). Similarly, one either has a wife or one does not, but varying qualities of investment are possible in such a relationship. The final clause, which summarizes and generalizes the others, distinguishes between χρώμενοι and καταχρώμενοι, between “using” and “using to the full.” In all cases, what seems to be addressed is the level of investment in activities in which believers may participate, but without the normal practical and/or emotional attachments. And the reason for this disinvestment is that these activities belong, in one form or another, to the κόσμος. That is the key term picked up in the final explanatory statement: παράγει γὰρ τὸ σχῆμα τοῦ κόσμου τούτου.[21]
The logic for this disinvestment is sometimes felt to lie in the fact that there is no point investing in something that is soon to pass away. Hence, the appeal to an apparently parallel passage such as 6 Ezra (2 Esdras) 16.40–50, which prepares people for the coming “apocalyptic” turmoil by instructing: “let him who sells be like one who will flee; let him who buys be like one who will lose . . . ; let one who builds a house be like one who will not live in it . . . ; those who marry like those who will have no children,” and so on.[22] But the focus in 1 Corinthians 7 is not quite the same. Paul is not declaring that the structures of society are about to collapse, and he is not predicting a future frustration of hopes (“will flee,” “will lose” etc.). The world’s passing is described, rather, in the present tense (παράγει), because Paul is speaking of a disinvestment in one world while another is already emerging. The logic is not “don’t invest in this world because another is about to begin,” but “don’t invest in this world because an alternative and more important investment is already required.” What is already passing away is τὸ σχῆμα τοῦ κόσμου τούτου, a difficult phrase which probably means something like “this world in its present form” (or “as presently constituted”); σχῆμα (as in Phil. 2:7) signals not some outward phenomenon, but the configuration of reality which constitutes what is meant by “this world” (cf. Rom. 12:2: μὴ συσχηματίζεσθε τῷ αἰῶνι τούτῳ).[23] Paul does not mean that they should invest in nothing in the present (because nothing will
last), but that they should not invest in what belongs to “this world” in its present configuration. There is something, meanwhile, that they should invest in, and that is what belongs directly to the Lord. There are some things that are wood, hay, and stubble (and to be destroyed) and some things that are gold that will last (1 Cor. 3:11–15); knowledge and tongues will not last, but love remains (1 Cor. 13:8–13); there is some work that is fruitless, but “the work of the Lord” will not be in vain (1 Cor. 15:58; cf. 16:10). Thus, the deepest reason for disinvestment in the affairs of this world is that they are overshadowed by commitments of greater significance and higher priority.[24] There is service to do for the Lord who has established his authority over the lives of believers and whose reign already grates against the present constitution of the world.
For this reason, Paul’s policy of disinvestment in dealings with “the world” is only partially similar to the Stoic policy of “indifference.” The Stoic cannot let outer affairs, over which he has no control, affect the equilibrium of his inner self (the one thing he can control). Thus, he treats all external conditions as adiaphora, matters of no ultimate significance, even if some might be preferable for the exercise of reason.[25] Paul is not indifferent to what goes on in his churches, and he certainly lets things “get to him” where they concern the progress of the gospel. His is not the detachment of the inner self from outward circumstances, but the disinvestment of the believer from what belongs to the world in its present constitution because of a simultaneous investment in what belongs to the “new creation” arising from the current cosmic Lordship of Christ. The “weeping” and “rejoicing” referred to in our passage are emotional reactions to events or conditions of this currently configured world; they do not refer to every kind of emotional reaction. It is fine to “weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice” concerning things that matter for Christ or for the church (1 Cor. 12:26; Rom. 12:15). Paul is not advocating a blanket emotional disinvestment (to preserve the serenity of the inner self), but a selective investment of emotional energy, and a limitation of emotional (and practical) investment in things now superseded by the already unfolding “apocalypse.” The “compression of time” makes this choice of investment urgent and immediate, but this world is already overshadowed by the “apocalyptic” transformation of reality that has begun in the cross and resurrection of Jesus.
Paul and the Apocalyptic Imagination Page 33
