My newest book is now in print:
You can get it at Wipf and Stock, Hearts and Minds Books in Pennsylvania, or Amazon.
As previously noted, my new book, The Death of the Messiah and the Birth of the New Covenant: A (Not So) New Model of the Atonement, should be available by the end of the month (by June 30) from Cascade/Wipf and Stock. Here is another excerpt, this time from chapter 1, “The Promise of the New Covenant”:
The Need for a New, More Comprehensive Model
There are at least four major problems with the traditional models of the atonement as a group. We will consider each of these problems briefly.
• The first problem is the isolationist, or sectarian, character of the models. Each one is constructed as a kind of stand-alone theory that supposedly tells the whole (or at least the most important) story and requires the exclusion (or at least the marginalization) of other versions of the story. In sympathy with certain postmodern complaints about the very idea of a doctrine of the atonement, Kevin Vanhoozer says [in “Atonement in Postmodernity], “The problem is that theologies of the atonement seem unable to articulate a theory that explains the saving significance of Jesus’ death without betraying the rich testimonies to the event of his death.” Only rarely, as in the case of Colin Gunton (The Actuality of the Atonement), does a theologian try to appropriate and integrate various traditional models.
• The second problem derives from the first: the atomistic, or nonintegrative, character of the traditional models. They do not naturally pull other aspects of theology into their orbit. “Atonement,” however interpreted, often stands apart, separated from ethics, spirituality, ecclesiology, pneumatology, and missiology. In some cases atonement becomes a narrow branch of theology that is almost irrelevant to the actual life of Christian individuals and communities.
• The third problem is individualism. The traditional models have a nearly exclusive focus on the individual, rather than on both the individual and the community, as the beneficiary of the atonement. Scot McKnight (in A Community Called Atonement) and others have, of course, also recognized and begun addressing this problem.
• The fourth problem we might call “under-achievement.” That is, the models do not do enough. We may summarize a model of the atonement in terms of its understanding of the fundamental effect of the cross on a person (or on humanity). In the satisfaction-substitution-penal model(s) the effect is propitiation, expiation, and/or forgiveness; in the Christus Victor model the effect is victory and liberation; and in the “moral influence” model the effect is inspiration. As I suggested in the Introduction to this book, the under-achieving character of these models means that, on the whole, they focus on the penultimate rather than the ultimate purpose(s) of Jesus’ death. In the new-covenant model I am proposing, the purpose (and actual effect) of Jesus’ death is all of the above and more, but that effect is best expressed, not in the rather narrow terms of the traditional models, but in more comprehensive and integrative terms like transformation, participation, and renewal or re-creation. The inclusion of terms like these in a discussion of atonement will seem odd to some readers, but I will introduce them because they capture the spirit of the new covenant promised by the prophets and inaugurated by Jesus’ death. It is precisely certain elements of the promised new covenant (which we will consider in the next two chapters), such as the coming of the Spirit and empowerment to fulfill the law, that are generally not considered to be aspects of atonement per se in traditional theories. This is, in part at least, why the traditional theories fall short of a fully biblical interpretation of the atonement.
My new book, The Death of the Messiah and the Birth of the New Covenant: A (Not So) New Model of the Atonement, should be available by the end of the month (by June 30) from Cascade/Wipf and Stock. I intend to post a few excerpts here over the next few weeks. Here are the first few paragraphs of the Introduction:
For most Christians, from professional theologians to lay women and men, the word “atonement” refers to the means by which Jesus’ death on the cross saves us and reconciles us to God. Was that death a punishment? a sacrifice? an example? a victory over powers? Some people have insisted strongly on one of these perspectives, often over and against the others. Recently, some discussions of the atonement have tended to be more generous, incorporating multiple theories, models, or images from the New Testament and Christian tradition into a more comprehensive—and therefore less precise—account of the atonement.
However, the fact that there is no theory or model of the atonement called “covenant,” “covenant-renewal,” “new-covenant,” or something very similar is, or should be, rather surprising. These terms refer, after all, to a biblical image connected to Jesus’ death—originating, it appears, with Jesus himself at his Last Supper—and the source of the term “the New Testament.” The latter fact rightly suggests, indeed, that “new covenant” is what the New Testament is all about. The neglect of the new covenant in discussions of atonement is likely due to an over-emphasis on the theological question of how Jesus’ death brings about atonement, salvation, etc.—the mechanics, so to speak. But this is not, I would submit, the focus of the New Testament. To put it a bit differently, I would suggest that most interpretations of the atonement concentrate on the penultimate rather than the ultimate purpose of Jesus’ death. This ultimate purpose is captured in texts like the following: [Mark 10:35-40; John 12:32; Rom 6:3-6; 2 Cor 5:15, 21; Titus 2:14; Rev 1:5b-6].
In texts such as these, we see that the ultimate purpose of Jesus’ death was to create a transformed people, a (new) people living out a (new) covenant relationship with God together. Moreover, this people will not simply believe in the atonement and the one who died, they will eat and drink it, they will be baptized into it/him, they will be drawn to him and into it. That is, they will so identify with the crucified savior that words like “embrace” and “participation,” more than “belief ” or even “acceptance,” best describe the proper response to this death. (Even the words “belief ” and “believe” take on this more robust sense of complete identification.) But most models of the atonement stop short of this goal, focusing on absolutely necessary but nonetheless penultimate issues, such as forgiveness of sins or liberation from evil powers. To put it even more starkly, some discussions of the atonement may be compared to arguments over which type of delivery is best in dealing with a difficult birth situation—forceps, venthouse (suction), C-section, or whatever—when the point is that each of them effects the birth of a child, each solving the problem from a slightly different angle. But it is the result (a healthy child) that is most important, and it is the child, not the delivery process, that ultimately defines the word “birth.”
(This is not meant to underestimate the value of carefully exploring the meaning of Jesus’ death from various angles, but to urge a proper ultimate focus.)
In this book, therefore, I aim in a modest way to help in correcting the problem of penultimate models of the atonement by proposing a new model that is really not new at all—the new-covenant model. (I have no connections with the developing theological movement within some parts of evangelicalism [especially Reformed Baptist circles] that calls itself “New Covenant Theology” as a via media between “Covenant Theology” and “Dispensational Theology.”) In fact, this model may legitimately lay claim to being the oldest interpretation of the atonement in the Christian tradition, going back to Jesus, the earliest churches, and the earliest Christian theologians (i.e., Paul, the evangelists, etc.). I will argue that this is not merely an ancient model in need of rediscovery, but also a more comprehensive, integrated, participatory, communal, and missional model than any of the major models in the tradition. It overcomes the inherent rift in many interpretations of the atonement between the benefits of Jesus’ death and the practices of participatory discipleship that his death both enables and demands. I contend throughout the book that in the New Testament the death of Jesus is not only the source, but also the shape, of salvation. It therefore also determines the shape of the community—the community of the new covenant—that benefits from and participates in Jesus’ saving death.
The purpose of this book, then, is not to develop some new theory about the mechanics of Jesus’ representative, sacrificial, nonviolent, and/or victorious death “for us.” There are plenty of those around, and many of them have great merit. Rather, the purpose of this book is to show some of the connections between the themes of atonement, new covenant, participation, and discipleship in the New Testament, focusing especially on the participatory practices of faithfulness, love, and peace. At first, this trio sounds like a new version of the Christian tradition’s three theological virtues of faith, love, and hope. It is, rather, the same triad articulated in a new (but not really new) way. What I will argue is that, throughout the New Testament, faith, as a practice, is about faithfulness even to the point of suffering and death; love, as a practice, has a distinctive, Christlike shape of siding with the weak and eschewing domination in favor of service; and hope, as a practice, means living peaceably (which includes nonviolently) and making peace. Thus the summary triad “faithfulness, love, and peace” is appropriate.
The surprising part of this interpretation of the theological virtues to some readers will be the notion of hope as a practice, and specifically hope as practicing peace. But a moment’s reflection on the theo-logic of this idea should reveal its inherent plausibility. The greatest form of hope in the Bible is for a new creation in which violence, suffering, tears, and death will be no more. We see this expressed in such lovely, inspiring texts as Isa 65:17–25 and Rev 21:1—22:5. Those who have this hope for a new creation and, more to the point, those who believe that this new creation has already been inaugurated by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, will begin to practice its vision in the present. Accordingly, the practice of hope is the practice of peace. This sort of practice may be referred to as anticipatory participation. Such participation, however, stems not only from hope about the future (a purely proleptic participation), but also from participation in the death of Jesus that makes such hope possible by creating peace.
With this emphasis on participation, and thus transformation, I will claim that the New Testament is much more concerned about what Jesus’ death does for and to humanity than how it does it. The New Testament employs a wide range of images and metaphors to portray God’s gracious action in Christ’s death. Yet this stunning array is part of a remarkably coherent picture of his death as that which brings about the new covenant (and thus the new-covenant community) promised by the prophets, which is also the covenant of peace. Many of the traditional and more recent models of the atonement related to the New Testament’s various metaphors can be taken up into the more comprehensive model I am proposing as penultimate aspects of the ultimate purpose of Christ’s death: the birth of the new covenant. Life in this new covenant is life in the Spirit of the resurrected Lord that is shaped by the faithful, loving, peacemaking (and therefore hope-making) death of the same crucified Jesus. Of course there is no Christian hope (or reason for faithfulness and love) without the resurrection of this Jesus from the dead. At points the resurrection will emerge explicitly, but even when it does not, we will assume its reality and significance throughout the entire book.
My former colleague Chris Skinner, now at the University of Mount Olive in Mount Olive, North Carolina, has arranged an invitation for me to deliver the Harrison Lectures there on Monday and Tuesday, March 10-11, The topic will be “Reading Revelation Responsibly.” There will be one illustrated lecture at 7 pm Monday and another at 9 am Tuesday, followed by a homily in chapel at 11 am. The talks are based on my book of the same name. More information is here.
I always look forward to these kinds of events with students, faculty, and local clergy, and I’m grateful to Chris.
I recently conducted two interviews here at St. Mary’s Seminary in Baltimore (where I teach) with my good friend N. T. (Tom) Wright about his new book, Paul and the Faithfulness of God. The videos are now on YouTube. In the first, I talk just with Tom; in the second, I moderate a conversation on Paul between Tom and Professor Richard Hays, another good friend, of Duke Divinity School.
Each interview lasts about 35 minutes.
I encourage all educators to share these with their students!
Travelers to Turkey: Have you been to the Grotto of St. Paul in Ephesus? If so, would you recommend it? What was your experience of it? (Time to get there and back.) I have permission to take a group up to it, just deciding if I have the time and if it is worth it. I think it is…. What’s your view?
Fr Aidan Kimel has this great post on justification over on his blog. I respond to it (copy below):
Ruminating Romans: Is Justification Forensic?
Posted on 18 August 2013 by Fr Aidan Kimel
But now, quite apart from the law (though the law and the prophets bore witness to it), God’s covenant justice has been displayed. God’s covenant justice comes into operation through the faithfulness of Jesus the Messiah, for the benefit of all who have faith. For there is no distinction: all sinned and fell short of God’s glory—and by God’s grace they are freely declared to be in the right, to be members of the covenant, through the redemption which is found in the Messiah, Jesus. God put Jesus forth as the place of mercy, through faithfulness, by means of his blood. He did this to demonstrate his covenant justice, because of the passing over (in divine forbearance) of sins committed beforehand. This was to demonstrate his covenant justice in the present time: that is, that he himself is in the right, and that he declares to be in the right everyone who trusts in the faithfulness of Jesus. (Rom 3:21-26)
N. T. Wright’s construal of the Pauline teaching on justification by faith hinges on one key claim: namely, that when the Apostle employs the “righteousness” words, say in Romans 3, that his usage is ruled by the metaphor of the Hebrew law court. To be declared “righteous” by the court is to be vindicated by the court in reference to the specific charges that have been brought by the plaintiff against the defendant. It is not a declaration of ethical uprightness but of legal status:
For the plaintiff or defendant to be ‘righteous’ in the biblical sense within the law-court setting is for them to have that status as a result of the decision of the court.
How does this work out? Let us take the plaintiff first. If and when the court upholds the plaintiff’s accusation, he or she is ‘righteous’. This doesn’t necessarily mean that he or she is good, morally upright or virtuous; it simply means that in this case the court has vindicated him or her in the charge they have brought.
It is the same with the defendant. If and when the court upholds the defendant, acquitting him or her of the charge, he or she is ‘righteous’. This again, doesn’t necessarily mean that he or she is good, morally upright or virtuous; simply that he or she has, in this case, been vindicated against the accuser; in other words, acquitted. (What Saint Paul Really Said, p. 98)
This forensic interpretation of dikaiosyne, dikaioo, and dikaios has long been popular in Protestant exegesis of Romans and Galatians, and an increasing number of Catholic exegetes have followed suit. Thus, for example, Joseph Fitzmyer: “When Paul speaks of Christ Jesus justifying the sinner, he means that because of the Christ-event the sinner stands before God’s tribunal and hears a verdict of ‘not guilty.’ … The sinner is pronounced dikaios (Rom. 5:7) and stands before God’s tribunal as “righteous, acquitted” (“Justification by Faith in Pauline Thought,” in Rereading Paul Together, p. 84). I confess that I am not 100% convinced that the law court is semantically determinative for Paul. Is the meaning of the dikai- words so defined by legal usage that when the original auditors heard them they immediately thought of the mechanics of the juridical setting? Chris VanLandingham has raised questions about the interpretation of these terms in his book Judgment & Justification in Early Judaism and the Apostle Paul. After surveying how the words are used in the Septuagint and intertestamental literature, he offers this conclusion:
None of the dikai- group of terms is intrinsically forensic. The verb, however, is always forensic in classical Greek, but with the meaning “treat justly” or “give justice to” and most often with the sense of “condemn” or “punish.” Since Paul never uses the verb in this sense, one is forced to look elsewhere for a sense in which Paul used the verb. Still, a survey of Jewish and Christian usage of this verb yields thirteen different meanings, a few of which may be possible in Paul: to be righteous, to be proven righteous, to be acquitted, to be made righteous/pure/free, or less likely, to have been made to appear righteous. … With much of the scholarly attention focused on the verb, it is important to note distinctions among the various senses since these distinctions are important for understanding Paul. In general, he believes that the person of faith moves from being a sinner to being righteous (Roman 5), indeed, even “to be made righteous” (Rom 5:19). Significantly, dikaioo alone can mean “to make righteous,” since there are five occasions where the term means this (Ps 72:13; Luke 18:14; Jas 2:21, 24, 25). Dikaioo is neither intrinsically eschatological nor intrinsically forensic, especially since it only sometimes has the sense in Jewish and Christian literature that it does in classical Greek literature. Even when used in a judicial context, the varioius possible nuances or definitions of the term within that context make inconsequential the notion that dikaioo is forensic. (pp. 271-272)
I lack the competence to adjudicate this controversy. I have not read reviews of VanLandingham’s book nor have I read any scholarly research that has been done on this topic since the book’s publication. But VanLandingham’s analysis does put a question mark besides the lexical claim that “to justify” must mean “to acquit” or “to confer a status of innocent.” VanLandingham also quotes a passage from J. A. Zeisler which is important for us: “Moreover, even if the legal background is pressed, the legal system in question was less concerned to pronounce innocent or guilty than to put wrongs right and to restore people to their proper place, no more and no less, in the covenant community” (p. 255). We immediately recall J. Louis Martyn’s preference for the English rendering “rectify” to translate dikaioo. He does not believe that the courtroom is determinative, at least not completely, for the interpretation of Pauline righteousness. “The subject Paul addresses,” he comments, “is that of God’s making right what has gone wrong.”
Douglas Campbell makes a helpful distinction here. Campbell agrees with the classical forensic construal of dikaioo, but points out that
judicial verdicts are both indicative and performative. They usually comment on a given state of affairs, recognizing something about those—that is, that someone is “in the right” or not—and so function indicatively, but in so doing they also effect a further state of affairs, and so function performatively. A person pronounced “in the right” by a human court may receive damages or be exonerated or perhaps be set free from prison. Thus, things happen as a direct result of this action and are in fact enacted by this verbal act. And in an eschatological setting, these enacted consequences are especially important. In pronouncing his verdict, God actualizes either heaven or hell for those who have just been judged! To pronounce someone “righteous,” or “in the right,” in the final judgment qualifies and effects eternal life for that person—or the converse—as in fact Romans 2 clearly suggests. (The Deliverance of God, p. 659)
If the goal of Hebrew justice is restorative, rather than just retributive, then the verdict, especially if it is the verdict of God, will be performative and reparative. It will seek to redress the harm that has been suffered and to restore the righteous to their previous state of wholeness. Justice is hardly served if it is reduced to mere declaration of legal status.
As noted agove, Fitzmyer agrees with most exegetes that dikaio? has its home in a forensic setting. But he then goes on to ask,
Does the Pauline verb dikaioo mean “to declare righteous” or “to make righteous”? One might expect that dikaioo, being a verb belonging to the —o? class of contract verbs, would have the causative or factitive meaning typical of such verbs: deloo (make clear), douloo (enslave), nekroo (mortify). Thus it would mean “to make righteous.” Normally in the Septuagint, however, dikaioo has a declarative, forensic meaning: “declare righteous.” At times, the declarative sense seems to be, indeed, the meaning in Paul’s letters (Rom 2.13; 3.4, 20; 8:33). Some of these cases are quotations of or allusions to the Greek Old Testament, but others are simply ambiguous. The effective sense of the verb seems to be supported by Romans 5:10 …: “through the obedience of one [man] the many will be made [or constituted] righteous.” Those who so argue often quote the Old Testament idea of God’s effective or performative word in Isaiah 55:10-11. Moreover, if Kasemann’s idea about dikaiosynê theou connoting God’s “power” is correct, it might be invoked to support this effective sense of justification. (pp. 84-85; Byrne and Matera follow Fitzmyer here)
This effective or transformative sense of dikaioo is supported by both Eastern and Latin patristic readings of Paul. St John Chrysostom, commenting on Rom 3:24-25, declares: “What is declaring of righteousness? Like the declaring of His riches, not only for Him to be rich Himself, but also to make others rich, or of life, not only that He is Himself living, but also that He makes the dead to live; and of His power, not only that He is Himself powerful, but also that He makes the feeble powerful. So also is the declaring of His righteousness not only that He is Himself righteous, but that He does also make them that are filled with the putrefying sores of sin suddenly righteous” (Hom. Rom. 7). All who come to Christ in faith are rectified through his regenerative power.
The transformative reading of dikaioo was powerfully stated in the 19th century by Anglican John Henry Newman:
God’s word, I say, effects what it announces. This is its characteristic all through Scripture. He “calleth those things which be not, as though they are,” and they are forthwith. Thus in the beginning He said, “Let there be light, and there was light.” Word and deed went together in creation; and so again “in the regeneration,” “The Lord gave the word, great was the company of the preachers.” So again in His miracles, He called Lazarus from the grave, and the dead arose; He said, “Be thou cleansed,” and the leprosy departed; He rebuked the wind and the waves, and they were still; He commanded the evil spirits, and they fled away; He said to St. Peter and St. Andrew, St. John, St. James, and St. Matthew, “Follow Me,” and they arose, for “His word was with power;” and so again in the Sacraments His word is the consecrating principle. As He “blessed” the loaves and fishes, and they multiplied, so He “blessed and brake,” and the bread became His Body. Further, His voice is the instrument of destruction as well as of creation. As He “upholds all things by the word of His power,” so “at the Voice of the Archangel, and at the trump of God,” the visible world will dissolve; and as His “Voice” formerly “shook the earth,” so once more “the Lord shall roar out of Zion, and utter His Voice from Jerusalem, and the heavens and the earth shall shake.” [Joel iii. 16.]
It would seem, then, in all cases, that God’s word is the instrument of His deed. When, then, He solemnly utters the command, “Let the soul be just,” it becomes inwardly just;… On the whole then, from what has been said, it appears that justification is an announcement or fiat of Almighty God, which breaks upon the gloom of our natural state as the Creative Word upon Chaos; that it declares the soul righteous, and in that declaration, on the one hand, conveys pardon for its past sins, and on the other makes it actually righteous. That it is a declaration, has been made evident from its including, as all allow, an amnesty for the past; for past sins are removable only by an imputation of righteousness. And that it involves an actual creation in righteousness has been argued from the analogy of Almighty God’s doings in Scripture, in which we find His words were represented as effective. And its direct statements most abundantly establish both conclusions; the former, from its use of the word justification; the latter, from its use of the word just or righteous; showing, that in matter of fact, he who is justified becomes just, that he who is declared righteous is thereby actually made righteous. (Lectures on Justification)
Newman’s reading of God’s justifying deed has proven influential in 20th century ecumenical discussions. But as far as I can tell, Tom Wright has not entertained it. He is convinced that a close reading of Paul within his first century Jewish worldview leads one to the conclusion that Paul’s righteousness language can only be understood properly within the courtroom metaphor: when God declares someone justified, he confers upon them a legal status within the covenantal life of Israel. According to Wright’s reading of Paul, justification addresses the question “Who constitutes the people of God?” The Apostle’s answer—those Jews and Gentiles who have converted to Christ Jesus the Messiah by faith. Wright’s interpretation escapes the criticism frequently advanced against Protestant construals of imputation, as there is no legal fiction involved: Christian believers truly do belong to Israel. But one ends up with the feeling that Wright’s construal has reduced justification in Christ to something much less interesting and substantive. Michael Gorman has recently protested Wright’s minimalist reading: “It is misguided, however, to find the sole or even primary meaning of justification to be the welcoming of Gentiles qua Gentiles into the covenant community. Their inclusion is a necessary dimension of a proper understanding of justification, but it is not the totality” (Inhabiting the Cruciform God, p. 54 n. 41). To be incorporated into the Church is to be incorporated into Christ himself and thus to share in all of his salvific benefits. Ecclesiology and soteriology cannot be separated.
It’s difficult to know where to draw the line between a purely historical reading of Paul and a theological and canonical reading. Yet I do want to advance a point that I believe is often overlooked in Pauline exegesis. Wright has correctly insisted that we must do the hard work of trying to identify the worldview and Jewish meta-narrative, the “big story,” that shaped and informed the Apostle’s understanding. How else can we read Paul within his historical context? But Paul was not just a Jew. He was a Jewish-Christian. He belonged to communities that baptized converts and united Jews and Gentiles in the sacrificial meal of the risen Lord’s body and blood. Although we have limited information about the liturgies, rituals, prayers, and ascetical practices of the first century churches, I propose that we cannot accurately exegete the Epistles of Paul without at least attempting to read them in light of the sacramental and ascetical experience of the Church. Hence when I read the verse “But they are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 3:24), I immediately interpret “justification” in terms of the totality of Paul’s soteriology. I immediately think of baptism and Holy Eucharist. I find it implausible to think that Paul restricted his employment of dikaioo to declaration of covenant membership, as if induction into the new covenant community had not also effected, so Christians believed and confessed, a dramatic change not only of their legal status but of their spiritual condition and identity. To be justified is to be reconciled to God through Jesus Christ. To be justified is to die with Christ in his crucifixion and raised to new and eternal life. To be justified is to be reborn and regenerated in the Holy Spirit. To be justified is to partake of the Lord at his heavenly banquet. And all of this happened and happens “apart from Torah.”
Am I guilty of reading back into the first century the theological and sacramental convictions of the patristic Church? Perhaps. But that’s my metanarrative and I’m sticking to it.
Thanks for this helpful post. I have argued in multiple places now that Protestants (and others) need to lose their fear of justification as an effective, transformative divine declaration–a “deliverdict,” as the PCA theologian Peter Leithart calls it. This applies to conservatives as well as NPP people like my good friend Tom Wright. Vanlandingham is right, but I would go a step further. Modern linguistics tells us that a word’s sense is conveyed in large measure by its context–how it is actually used, not its etymology. I contend that Paul reinterprets justification in light of the life-giving death and resurrection of Jesus as the restoration of right covenantal relations with God and others through co-crucifixion with the Messiah. It is justification by co-crucifixion and, paradoxically, because it is a transformative declaration and act of God, it is, as Paul says at the end of Romans 4, in fact a resurrection from death to life.
It has been a long time since I have posted! In May I was at the International meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature at St. Andrews University in Scotland to be on a the panel with Markus Bockmuehl and Martin de Boer responding to Tom Wright’s soon-to-be-released magnum opus, Paul and the Faithfulness of God. I intend to post parts of that review here. However, at the moment I am completing a paper for yet another conference at St. Andrews, the British New Testament Society’s annual conference. It will take place August 29-31. The title of the paper is “The Lord of Peace: Christ our Peace in Pauline Theology.” The paper will be part of the Paul Seminar, which is on Pauline Christology this year, with additional papers by N. T. Wright, John Barclay, and Peter Oakes–followed by a panel conversation. So it should be fun. I will also post some excerpts from that paper here. This paper grows out of my recent research on peace in Paul for a new book, scheduled to be published by Eerdmans next year: Becoming the Gospel: Paul, Participation, and Mission. Here is the abstract of the paper:
Despite ongoing contemporary efforts by such NT scholars as Willard Swartley in the U.S., Pieter de Villiers in South Africa, and William Campbell in the U.K., the claim that peace is central to Pauline theology (including Christology) and ethics has not been universally acknowledged, as evidenced in even some of the most recent and most comprehensive treatments of Paul. This paper will review a portion of the evidence in Paul for Jesus as both (1) the crucified and resurrected Messiah who inaugurated God’s promised eschatological peace and (2) the present Lord who continues to form each ekkl?sia into a peaceful, peacemaking community. In each role, Jesus is both the source and the shape of God’s shalom. While this evidence demonstrates the centrality of peace and peacemaking to Pauline Christology, it also shows that Paul does not think of Christ as peacemaker in isolation, but only in conjunction with God the Father and the Spirit, on the one hand, and in union with the ekkl?sia, on the other.
If you are interested in the life of the church, the moral life, and theological scholarship in service of both, consider participating in the international online Webinar Ecclesia and Ethics, May 18 and 25. Go to ecclesiaethics.com. You can also see online interviews with some of the speakers, including yours truly and Tom Wright.
From this perceptive commentary’s very first sentence, Nijay Gupta—a significant newer voice in Pauline studies—takes us into the heart of Colossians as few recent interpreters have done. Readers will be inspired by his passion, enlightened by his balanced scholarship, and enriched by his profound theological engagement with the text. This well-written and truly enjoyable volume is a superb addition to an excellent, user-friendly series. It will stimulate students, pastors, theologians, and scholars for many years to come.