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J.M.-O'C.,
Paul, A Critical Life, Chapter 10. Contemplation at Colossae
Paul's strategy
during his two years and three months' residence in Ephesus (Acts 19:8-10)
had two facets. He stayed in the city dedicating himself to the formation of
the community and to maintaining contact with his other foundations. The
church, however, had to be apostolic. Hence, he commissioned others to spread
the gospel outside the urban area, following the pattern dictated by the
Roman roads radiating out from the capital of Asia. As we have seen, some went north to Smyrna and Pergamum. Others
took a road angling off to the north-east, and evangelized Philadelphia,
Sardis, and Thyatira. Still others took the great common highway to the east
and brought the gospel to Magnesia and Tralles. One went much further, into the Lycus valley on the fringes of
the province of Asia. It was his homeland (Col. 4:12). The Roman
road, which Epaphras followed, was constructed by Manius Aquillius, who was
proconsul of Asia 129-126 bc. For the first 80 miles out of Ephesus it
followed the north bank of the river Meander, which it crossed on a bridge at
Antioch-on-the-Meander, and continued along the south bank until it was
blocked by a tributary, the Lycus (modern Cürük-su), coming in from the
south-east. Turning to stay on the
west side of this considerable river, the road first reached Laodicea, and
then Colossae (192 km. or 120 miles from Ephesus), after which there was a
bifurcation. The road of Manius Aquillius swung south to the coast. The
Cilician road curved to the north to the cities of Paul's 'first journey'
(Acts 13-14). The eye of
anyone entering the valley from the west is caught by a dazzling blaze of
white against the brown of the cliff across the river. For millennia,
mineral-saturated hot water has poured down the slope gradually building up a
{page 232} deposit so that today it
looks like 'foaming cataracts frozen in the fall'. The phenomenon was known
to Strabo, who noted the ingenious use the natives made of it, 'the water of
the hot springs so easily congeals and changes into stone that people conduct
streams of it through ditches and thus make continuous stone fences'. Today
the site has the entirely appropriate name of Pamukkale, 'Cotton Castle', but
in the first century it was known as Hierapolis. It would be
most unusual if the unique properties of the waters had not attracted
settlers to Hierapolis from remote antiquity, but it, and its neighbour
Laodicea (6 miles away across the river) appear on the stage of history only
in the Hellenistic period. The oldest documented town in the valley is
Colossae, which is ii miles upstream from Laodicea. The double 'ss' in its
name is thought to be a relic of a pre-Greek language, and it is mentioned in
the fifth century bc by Herodotus (7. 30) and Xenophon (Anabasis,
1.2.6) as a large and prosperous city. The virtual
monopoly that Colossae enjoyed in the exploitation of the natural resources
of the valley came under threat in the third century bc, when Seleucid
monarchs intervened to create new commercial centres. Antiochus I Soter
(281-261 bc) raised Hierapolis to the status of a city, and his son Antiochus
II Theos (261-246 bc) conferred the same favour on a settlement called
Diospolis/Rhoas, whose name he changed to Laodicea to honour his wife. In 220
bc a certain Achaeus raised the standard of rebellion in Laodicea against
Antiochus m the Great (233-187 bc). The rising
was abortive, but in order to guarantee that it could not happen again,
Antiochus HI, around 213 bc, settled 2,000 Jewish families from Babylon and
its environs in Phrygia and Lydia. It would be most surprising if a
significant number of these colonists did not end up in the Lycus valley. A
century and a half later, the Jewish population was considerable. In 62 bc
the district of which Laodicea was the capital had at least 11,000 adult male
Jews. Some twenty years later, the authorities of Laodicea assured the Roman
authorities that Jews would not be hindered in the practice of their
religion. The presence of a Jewish community with its roots in Babylon, is
crucial for an understanding of the problems that Paul and Epaphras had to
confront. Despite the
seniority implicit in giving its name to a particular colour (see below),
Colossae lacked certain advantages enjoyed by its younger rivals. {page 233} Laodicea was the capital of the
district. The courts of the proconsul of Asia might be infrequent, but its
role as the financial and tax centre gave it a latent power, which proved
attractive to those interested in policy and business. Inevitably leisure
facilities would be better than elsewhere in the vicinity; gladiatorial shows
are attested. Hierapolis no doubt enjoyed a share of this tourist market. The
pleasures of natural hot baths were intensified by the medicinal properties
of the waters and drew seekers of luxury and health from a wide area. The
merely curious no doubt flocked to inspect the Plutonium, a cave whose
poisonous vapours slew animals. The extent to
which Colossae lost out in the prosperity stakes is graphically illustrated
by the dearth of visible remains when compared with the extensive ruins of
Laodicea and Hierapolis. It cannot even boast a famous name, whereas
Hierapolis could claim the Stoic philosopher Epictetus (ad 55-135), and
Laodicea the rhetorician Zeno, the bravery of whose son, Polemon, when the
city was attacked by the Parthians in 40-39 bc, won him the kingdom of
Cilicia Tracheia. The volcanic
springs and underground rivers alerted Strabo to the unstable character of
the land in the Lycus valley, 'if any country is subject to earthquakes,
Laodicea is' (Geography 12. 8. 16). Many went unrecorded, but major
earthquakes hit in the reign of Augustus, and again in ad 60, as Tacitus
reports, 'In the Asian province one of its famous cities, Laodicea, was
destroyed by an earthquake in this year, and rebuilt from its own resources
without any subvention from Rome.' No earthquake that devastated Laodicea
would have spared its neighbours. The recovery of Hierapolis is guaranteed by
the existence of a bishopric there at the beginning of the second century ad,
headed by Papias. Colossae, on the contrary, sinks into oblivion. In their
heyday these cities lived from wool. The Lycus valley was a vast pasture in
which numerous flocks wandered. In this it was no different from much of
Anatolia. Yet the inhabitants managed to carve out a unique niche in the
textile market by the quality of their products. According to Strabo, 'The
country around Laodicea produces sheep that are excellent, not only for the
softness of their wool, in which they surpass even the Milesian wool, but also
for its raven-black colour, so that the Laodiceans derive splendid revenue
from it, as do also the neighbouring Colossians from the colour which bears
the same name' (Geography 12. 8. 6; trans. Jones). It would
appear that the glossy black fleeces associated with Laodicea were natural.
Certainly this is the interpretation of Vitrivius, for whom it was {page 234} explained by the water of certain
springs from which the sheep drank (De Architectura 8. 3. 14).
Strabo's failure to specify the precise colour associated with Colossae is
remedied by Pliny, who tells us that colossinus is a purple
resembling- that of the cyclamen blossom (NH 21. 51; cf. 25. 114).
That the unusual characteristics of the water of the region contributed to
the distinctive colour is suggested by a note of Strabo apropos of a
neighbouring city, 'The water at Hierapolis is remarkably adapted also to the
dying of wool, so that wool dyed with the roots [madder-root] rivals that
dyed with the cossus [kermes-berries] or with the marine purple' (Geography
13.4.14; trans. Jones). When Paul
marched across Asia Minor for the second time, his goal was Ephesus, and he
did not attempt to found new communities. Where then did he meet Epaphras, a
native of Colossae (Col. 4:12)? The encounter could have taken place on the
road. Paul would have been glad of a companion, a potential convert, whose
presence enhanced his security. Or it might have been in Ephesus. But it
could have been much further afield. The probability is that Epaphras was in
some way associated with the export of textiles from the Lycus valley, and if
Lydia from Thyatira was selling in Philippi (Acts 16:14), it is not at all
impossible that the superior product of the Lycus valley was being marketed
by Epaphras in Macedonia or Achaia. This latter hypothesis, however, is not
really plausible. If Epaphras had been commissioned by Paul in Greece to
plant the gospel in his home valley when he returned, it is rather improbable
that Paul would not have turned aside for a few days, after having visited
the Galatians, in order to check on how things were going. If he did not do
so (Col. 2:1), it can only be because the churches in the Lycus valley did
not yet exist. Wherever they
met, Epaphras was formed as a missionary by Paul in Ephesus, and he must have
been typical of those whom Paul chose to fan out to found other churches.
From personal experience in Asia Minor and Macedonia, Paul knew the
difficulty of coming into a strange city in which he knew no one. He had to
find work in a congenial situation which would permit him to preach. Where
was he to begin? He must have recognized immediately how much easier his task
became when he linked up with Prisca and Aquila in Corinth. They provided a
base and a ready-made set of contacts. In any case, thereafter he built it
into his missionary strategy. He left the couple in Ephesus in order to have
everything in readiness for his return from Jerusalem, and later would {page
235} send them to Rome to prepare for his arrival there. They
now carried the burden of loneliness and alienation, but they were
strengthened by the confidence that Paul would soon arrive to share the
responsibility. Paul could
have demanded of others, and probably did, the sacrifices he demanded of
Prisca and Aquila. There are always those willing to strike out into unknown
territory. But would it not have been much more efficient to select as
missionaries those who started with a built-in advantage? The prime
candidates were the energetic and enterprising women and men, like Epaphras,
who came to the capital of Asia on business. It did not matter whether they
were acting as principals or agents, they returned home to a network of
acquaintances rooted in long-standing family, social, and business contacts.
They did not have to look for work. They were known and trusted. The respect
they had earned guaranteed that there were always at least some sympathetic
ears to hear their first stumbling sermons. The freedom
of Epaphras to make a trip to Ephesus in order to seek Paul's advice when
problems developed at Colossae suggests that he was in business on his own
account. The alternative is to suppose that he converted his employer, who
proved to be most sympathetic in terms of time off in order to permit
Epaphras to discharge his duties as founder of the church. The hypothesis is
not impossible, but it is more complicated, and even Paul did not take the
Christianity of employers/owners for granted. The relationship of Philemon
and Onesimus is a case in point. The legal
aspect of this dispute has already been dealt with. Here we must confront
much simpler questions, which lead us into unexplored aspects of the
evangelization of the Lycus valley. How did Onesimus, a pagan (Philem. 10),
know of Paul's influence on his master, and how did he know where to find
Paul in far-away Ephesus? In the light of the preceding discussion, one is
immediately inclined to consider Epaphras as the source of this information.
In Philemon 19, however, Paul takes the pen from the hand of his secretary to
guarantee the repayment of whatever damage Onesimus had caused, and
underlines his creditworthiness by pointing out that Philemon is in the
Apostle's debt, 'you owe yourself to me'. The natural
interpretation of this phrase is that Philemon had been converted by Paul
personally, presumably in Ephesus. It would have been natural of him to speak
to his household of the importance of Paul in his life. Acceptance of this
interpretation, however, leads to unacceptable consequences. It means that
Paul had sent two apostles to the Lycus valley, but gives the credit for the
establishment of the churches of Colossae, Laodicea, and Hierapolis to only
one, Epaphras (Col. 4:13). Had Philemon made no contribution, Paul's {page 236} compliments in Philemon 6-7
appear as condemnation by faint praise. Would Paul have slighted Philemon
just at the moment he wanted something from him? The difficulty of admitting
that Paul would have acted so stupidly forces us to consider the possibility
that, in writing Philemon 1 and 19, he was acting on the principle that
masters are responsible for the actions of their agents. If those who command
are liable for damages, they can also claim the credit for success. In other
words, Philemon was converted by Epaphras as Paul's agent. Philemon was
followed into the faith by his wife Appia, and by Archippus (Philem. 1).
Together they became the nucleus of a house-church (Philem. 2), which may
have been the first of a number of such sub-units which together made up the
'whole church' of Colossae. The social status of Philemon can be deduced from
his ownership of at least one slave; it is confirmed by his possession of a
house large enough to contain a guest-room (Philem. 22). Had Paul impressed
on Epaphras the strategy, which he himself was to employ so successfully at
Corinth? It was important to recruit quickly one or two people who could
provide a centre for the nascent community. Nympha may have played this role
at Laodicea, where she became responsible for a house-church (Col. 4:15).
Philemon is called 'fellow-worker' and Archippus 'fellow-soldier' (cf. Phil.
2:25). The implication that both were active in the development of
Christianity in the Lycus valley is confirmed by Paul's treatment of the
former as 'a partner' (Philem. 17; cf. Phil. 1:5) and by the words addressed
to the latter in Colossians 4:17, 'see that you fulfil the ministry which you
have received in the Lord'. The curious
form of this admonition-it is introduced by 'Tell Archippus'- and the
contrast with the complimentary epithet in Philemon 2, indicate that the
status of Archippus had changed between the writing of Philemon and
Colossians. What might have happened? One scenario which deals adequately
with the data runs as follows. Onesimus had injured his master Philemon in a
serious way. Epaphras sent Onesimus to Ephesus to beseech Paul's mediation in
the dispute with Philemon. Although not a Christian, Onesimus, like any of
the servants, was fully aware of the composition of the little community that
met in his master's house. Once Onesimus had been baptized (Philem. 10; cf. 1
Cor. 4:15), the significance of the active missionary role of Philemon and
Archippus became evident to him. And he told Paul, who needed to flatter
Philemon in order to win a favour from him. Paul had never written this sort
of letter before, and it demanded serious reflection. Before the missive was
finished, Epaphras arrived and was arrested by the Romans because of his {page 237} official association with Paul.
In addition to informing Paul about the false teaching that circulated at
Colossae, he spoke sadly about Archippus. Given the gravity of the
theological situation, it does not seem adequate to postulate merely that
Archippus was somehow less active than hitherto. 'Tell Archippus' (Col. 4:17)
makes sense only if he had left the community and would not hear the letter
when it was read publicly (Col. 4:16). Had he become involved with the false
teachers to the point that he no longer found the liturgy of the church
satisfying? Only an affirmative answer explains the urgency of Colossians. If
a leader of Archippus' quality had been seduced by esoteric teaching, the
danger for others in the community was very real. A response could not wait
until Paul or Epaphras was released from prison. No consensus
exists regarding the authenticity of Colossians. The scholarly community is
split down the middle. Those who affirm Pauline authorship, however, are
rather more hesitant than those who deny it. None the less, the conclusions
of the latter are not always as well founded as the force with which they are
articulated would appear to indicate. The stylistic
argument, which has always been considered the most objective, must be set
aside. Paul's use of co-authors and secretaries precludes the establishment
of a writing style exclusive to the Apostle against which letters can be
measured. Equally, without evidence that it was a standard pseudepigraphic technique,
the names and personal notices (Col. 1:7-8; 2:1; 4:7-18) cannot be dismissed
as an artificial attempt to give Colossians a place in Paul's ministry. Those
who maintain the inauthenticity of 2 Thessalonians and Ephesians find no
reason to postulate such a requirement. If, as I have argued above, such
personal references are taken seriously, then Colossians must be dated to the
summer of ad 53, during Paul's imprisonment at Ephesus. The critical
questions, then, are: (1) are the differences between Colossians and the
other letters written during this period as great as have been thought? (2)
if so, can they be explained as due to the particular circumstances under
which this letter was written? Opponents of
the authenticity of Colossians find justification for their position in its
view of Paul's apostolic office and of the value of his sufferings. The
latter, we are told, are understood to have a vicarious value, and Paul is {page 238} presented as the universal,
unique apostle. Such inflation of his position is incompatible with his
historical role, and thus points to the artificiality of Colossians. Universalistic
language is certainly not lacking in Colossians, but when looked at closely,
it does not confirm the interpretation forced upon it. The note that the
gospel is bearing fruit and growing 'in the whole world' (Col. 1:6) is a
simple reflection on the success of the ministry to the Gentiles, and in no
way implies that Paul alone was responsible. On the contrary, the intrinsic
power of the word of God is an authentically Pauline theme (cf. 1 Thess. 1:5;
2:13). Later Paul speaks of 'the gospel which you heard, which has been
preached to every creature under heaven, and of which I Paul became a
minister' (Col. 1:23). The lack of the definite article before 'minister'
underlines that Paul is not the exclusive agent of propagation, and the
hyperbole is precisely paralleled in the Apostle's very first letter, both
with respect to the past tense and to the universal extension, 'your faith in
God has gone forth everywhere' (1 Thess. 1:8). Finally, the sole implication
of'teaching everyone in all wisdom that we may present everyone mature in
Christ' (Col. 1:28) is that Paul's message is for all without exception. Colossians
differs from the other Ephesian letters in that it is written to a church
that Paul did not found. It would not have been written, as we have seen, had
Epaphras been free to return to the Lycus valley after having consulted Paul
in Ephesus. Only when he too landed in prison did it become imperative to
devise another way of dealing with the situation. Apparently no competent
emissary was available and that left a letter as the only option. Who was to
write it? Epaphras was the obvious candidate, since the Colossians were his
people, and his problem. Could he not say on paper what he planned to say
verbally? Some in Paul's entourage were less sanguine. To express oneself
adequately in writing in circumstances where a false word could be disastrous
demands a very special skill. Epaphras had given no evidence of this talent,
which Paul had demonstrated in his letter to the Galatians. In any event Paul
accepted the responsibility. Epaphras might then appear to be the obvious
choice as co-author; he was the local expert. The same could be said of Apollos
with respect to the developing situation in Corinth, but, as in the present
case, Paul preferred to rely on Timothy. Paul's lack
of personal involvement with the Christians in Colossae and his sense of the
autonomy of the local church explains the universalism of the texts just
discussed. On the formal level, he could and did point out that Epaphras had
been acting as his agent (Col. 1:7), but on a a more profound level, he felt {page 239} the need to evoke the world-wide
scope of his apostolic responsibility in order to justify his concern for the
Colossians (Col. 1:25). The context in which this must be understood is the
Jerusalem agreement (Gal. 2:9), which authorized all missionaries to go
everywhere. In Paul's mind this meant that he could not exempt himself from
any effort that might draw people to Christ. In no way does it imply that he
felt that everything had to be done under his aegis. He took it entirely for
granted that other missionaries would work in parallel with him and made it a
principle not to duplicate their efforts (Rom. 15:20). Paul's
interpretation of his sufferings in Colossians 1:24 has caused much ink to be
spilled. The NRSV reflects the common translation of this verse, 'Now
I am rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am
completing what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body,
that is, the church.' Questions immediately arise: was Christ's sacrifice
somehow imperfect? is the genitive 'of Christ' to be understood as
subjective, as objective, as qualitative, etc.? how can Paul's sufferings be
added to those of someone else? is there a quota of sufferings that must be
endured before the Parousia? The mind reels before the permutations and
combinations of the possible answers, each of which has found an advocate. Such
complications, however, arise only because the translation is faulty. The
interpretation of the verse is greatly simplified if the order of the key
Greek words is respected, and hyphens are added for clarification, 'I am
completing what is lacking in Christ's-afflictions-in-my-flesh for the sake
of his body.' Paul is not speaking of the sufferings of Christ in themselves,
but of his own sufferings, which in a certain sense are those of Christ. In a
previous letter he had written, 'I live now, not I, but Christ lives in me'
(Gal. 2:20). Subsequently he would try to get the same idea across by writing
'always carrying in the body the dying of Jesus' (2 Cor. 4:10). Paul did not
need great insight to know that his pain would be prolonged, and he was fully
aware of precisely how it benefited the church. His imprisonment dramatized
his commitment to Christ, which both impressed pagans and fortified believers
(Phil. 1:13-14). Colossians 1:24 is nothing more than a typically Pauline
Christologization of this theme. The
intensification of Paul's functional identification with Christ in Colossians
can be seen as simply the logical consequence of the insight of Galatians
2:20, but it was not Paul's style to develop methodically the ramifications
of an idea. There must have been something in the attitude of the Colossians
towards Christ which stimulated his reflection. {page 240} The
difference between the Christology of Colossians and that of the other
letters is usually explained in one of two ways. Defenders of the
authenticity of Colossians date it at the very end of Paul's life in order to
give enough time for such a radical development of his thought. Those who
refuse the authenticity of Colossians find the difference so great as to make
Pauline authorship inconceivable. A third approach, which does more justice
to the data of the letter, has been espoused by C. K. Barrett, 'It seems
rather that the Colossians ... had done their best to give Christ a prominent
place in the realm of cosmic speculation. What they had not done, and the
editor now proceeds to do, is to recognize his earthly activity.' In other
words, the concern of Colossians is not to lift its readers into the cosmic
sphere, but to ensure that they do not lose contact with the mundane. The
Saviour must stand on terra firma. His disciples must not retreat into
ascetic isolation. As Barrett
perceived, the clearest illustration of what is actually going on in the
letter is found in Colossians 1:15-20. Didactic hymns were part of the
liturgy at Colossae (Col. 3:16), and it is generally recognized that Paul is
here quoting one of these hymns. Its precise extent and structure has been
the subject of intense debate. This is not the place to enter into dialogue
with the wide variety of views which have already been expressed. The
justification of my position will emerge, I hope, from the coherence of what
follows. The original
hymn was made up of two four-line strophes, which are identical in structure:
The
repetition of key terms in the same order in each strophe reinforces the structure.
The first two lines of each strophe are affirmations which are subsequently
justified in the last two lines. Such perfection of balance betrays a
deliberate creative effort. No artist who had invested so much would destroy
the elegance of his work. The elements in the existent text which disturb the
balance must have been added by a later hand, more concerned with content {page 241} than with form. The same
phenomenon was noted apropos of the hymn cited by Paul in Philippians 2:6-11.
Such similarity greatly reduces the subjective factor which is integral to
every literary judgement. It is instructive to put the two sets of additions
in parallel:
The
similarities are so obvious as to hardly need pointing out. In both instances
the redactor is concerned (1) to insist on the modality of the death of Christ,
and (2) to restrict the meaning of 'all things' to intelligent beings. In the
case of the Philippian hymn there is no doubt that the redactor was Paul; the
authenticity of that letter is unquestioned. The language furnishes
confirmation. If we leave aside the work of the evangelists, 'cross' and 'to
crucify' are virtually exclusively Pauline terms in New Testament usage. This
is all the more significant in that the traditional material, which Paul
incorporates into his letters, mentions only the fact of the death of Christ
without specifying its manner. The parallels create a prima facie case
that the redactor of the Colos-sian hymn was also Paul. It is typical of him
to emphasize the 'blood' of Christ (v. 20b). It is also characteristic of
Paul to stress that Christ gained something by the resurrection (v. 18c). There is an
obvious quantitative difference between the retouches of the two hymns. Those
in Colossians 1:15-20 are much more extensive than those in {page
242} Philippians 2:6-11. The natural inference is that the
original Philippian hymn was closer to Paul's theological perspective than
the hymn which Epaphras brought from Colossae. This in turn opens the
possibility that Paul retained the hymn for a specific purpose without
accepting all its dimensions. The
distinction of two literary levels permits us to develop two readings,
namely, the meaning of the original hymn, and the meaning Paul gave it by
means of his additions. The Original
Hymn The basic
theme of the original hymn is obviously the mediation of Christ, first in
creation and then in reconciliation. God is mentioned explicitly only as the
referent of'image', but he is certainly evoked by the passive verbs in verse
16a and 16 f, and possibly may be the subject of'was pleased' (v. 19). The
creative power of God is revealed in the action of his chosen instrument, and
thereby Christ is exalted above all other beings. In the first
strophe there is no real difference between the formulae 'in him' and
'through him'; the former can be instrumental, and is to balance 'in him' in
the second strophe (v. 19) where, however, the meaning is different. On his
first reading Paul may have understood 'image of God' in the light of his
Adamic Christology based on Genesis 1:27, but that would have quickly been
corrected. The combination of 'image' with 'first-born of all creation' is
more likely to have evoked the figure of Wisdom in the sapiential writings,
notably Wisdom 7:22-6; 8:6; 9:9. Paul after all was a child of the Hellenistic
synagogue. The ambiguity of 'first-born of all creation' is remarkable: is he
of or above creation? The emphasis on 'all creation' and 'all things'
makes the cosmic dimension unambiguous. The participation of Christ in the
act of creation extended to the totality of being. But in what sense? The
context is of no help, no more than it is in answering the question arising
from the one element which does not fit the sapiential background, namely,
the presentation of all reality as directed, 'to him'. What precisely does
this mean? The failure of exegetes to reach a consensus on the answers to
these questions suggests that obscurity was intended by the author(s). In the second
strophe 'beginning' again evokes Wisdom (Prov. 8:22), but leaves vague the sense
in which Christ vanquished death. The original author may have thought in
terms of immortality, in keeping with the sapiential inspiration of his
approach, but the formulation does not exclude resurrection. Christ's being
the first to experience life after death is due to a divine gift. The formula
'to be pleased to dwell' occurs regularly in the Old Testament with {page 243}
God as subject, e.g. 'the mountain in which God was pleased to dwell' (LXX
Ps.69:17). Why the surrogate 'Fullness' should have been used here is
unclear. Perhaps the author felt it would be more appropriate to the cosmic
dimension of his theme, or feared that the Old Testament formula would be
misunderstood. Those coming from a Jewish background would never have taken
divine indwelling to mean that the person or place was divinized. A pantheist
from Phrygia, however, would have gone away with a very different impression.
Christ's salvific mission is evoked only in the last line and by the verb 'to
reconcile', which for the first time introduces a hint of tension within
creation. The hymn is a perfect example of what Paul calls 'beguiling,
persuasive speech' (Col. 2:4). Formal beauty clothes an abstract vision of
Christ, which is allusive rather than explicit. The lapidary phrases are
redolent of profundity, but yield no clear understanding. The pervasive
ambivalence indicates that a univocal meaning was not intended. The hymn
could be sung or recited by all believers (Col. 3:16) in the belief that they
were articulating a mystery beyond them. The initiated could debate the
questions that still test the ingenuity of exegetes. In opposition to the
hymn cited in Philippians 2:6-11, nothing in the original hymn betrays
Pauline roots. The preaching of Epaphras has been divested of realism by
being transposed into a loftier and colder dimension. The truth of
the titles given to Christ meant that Paul could not reject the hymn out of
hand. It evoked aspects of Christ that he would not have chosen to emphasize,
but they were rooted in the revelation accorded to his people. To accept them
was the price he had to pay for the lapidary formulae of the hymn which he
realized he could turn against its originators. Before
discussing this point, it is important to note the flexibility of Paul's
mind. He did not disdain to take over a key concept of the hymn. He had
already used 'fullness' in the phrase 'in the fullness of time' (Gal. 4:4).
He now adopts the personal dimension of 'Fullness', and integrates it into
his own thought. Later in the letter it appears in a formula where reality
replaces mystification, 'in Christ the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily'
(Col. 2:9). By using the explicative genitive, 'of deity', Paul demonstrates
that he understood correctly the role of the term in the hymn and removes any
possible ambiguity. By the introduction of 'bodily' he directs the readers
attention to the physical existence of him who is now the Risen Lord (cf.
Col. 1:22). Paul's concern is to block any tendency to disassociate Jesus and
Christ; 'you received Christ (as) Jesus the Lord' (Col. 2:6). As in the
original hymn, the presence of the verb 'to {page
244} dwell' in 2:9 means that Paul is thinking in terms of his
Jewish formation, and the statement cannot be read as if it were the Pauline
version of the prologue to John's gospel. In his
redactional additions Paul's concerns are both negative and positive. He has
to reduce the spirit world to its proper proportions and to replace Christ in
his essential role. By inserting
1:16b-e, 20c Paul restricts the meaning of'all things' to angelic and human
beings. The prominence given to the angelic powers by listing their names is
striking, and must be understood in the light of the reference to 'the
worship of angels' (2:18). The meaning of this cryptic phrase is disputed,
but it seems most probable to understand it as Paul's way of asserting that
certain Colossians were being encouraged to give too much importance to
visions of the throne of God surrounded by adoring angels. From Paul's perspective
such an invitation into a totally unattainable world compromised the primacy
and centrality of Christ in the real world. Paul cleverly turned the tables
on the teachers at Colossae, by using the creation dimension of their hymn to
underline that, as the one responsible for the coming into being of the
spirit powers, Christ was infinitely superior to them (Col. 2:10). The addition
of 'those on earth or in heaven' to the last line of the second strophe
(1:20c) parallels that in 1:16b ('those in heaven or on earth') but
chiastically reverses the order, so that 'those in heaven' occupies the
dramatic final place. Paul thereby again uses the original hymn to create a
new argument against its writer(s). The need of human beings for
reconciliation needs no emphasis, and the point is made several times during
the letter (1:21; 2:13; 3:7, 13b). Paul's insertion, however, insinuates that
the spiritual powers also need reconciliation. The angelic world, therefore,
cannot be viewed uncritically. Wicked angels are unlikely to be satisfactory
mediators between humanity and God. But how are terrestrial beings to judge
their celestial counterparts? Paul does not need to make explicit the
futility of the exercise. His rhetorical training had made him aware that
conclusions are more convincing when drawn by the audience. To the
intellectual pleasure of seeing the Colossian teachers hoist with their {page 245} own petard, Paul adds the
satisfaction of directing their attention to the precise modality of Christ's
achievement by inserting the phrase, 'making peace by the blood of his cross'
(1:20b). The amendment evokes that of the Philippian hymn, 'even death on a
cross' (Phil. 2:8c), but the formulation is infinitely more dramatic. The
graphic imagery will be intensified subsequently by the mention of 'nailing'
(2:14). Paul will never let anyone forget that redemption has been achieved
within history through agonizing suffering. His choice of the verb 'to make
peace' probably has less to do with any supposed animosity between heavenly
beings, or between celestials and terrestrials, than with the tensions within
the Colossian church. The letter contains evidence that the false teachers
did not have it all their own way; 'let the peace of Christ rule in your
hearts' (3:15). Note also the letter's emphasis on mutual forgiveness (3:13),
and on unity, 'knit together in love' (2:2), 'put on love which binds
everything together in perfect harmony' (3:14). The theme of
unity also appears in the second part of each of the two-line insertion which
Paul places between the strophes of the original hymn (1:17-18 a). The first
part of each simply marks the supremacy of Christ. 'All things in him hold
together' is another matter. One has only to reflect on how this worked in
practice in order to realize that Paul in verse 17 is parodying, not only the
tone, but the enigmatic character of his source. This ability to find a verb
whose ambivalence fits so perfectly into its context that very astute
exegetes have taken it seriously once again reveals the quality of Paul's
education. What Paul really wants to convey is clearly expressed in the
second line, where the unity of the church is defined as that of a 'body' (v.
18a). This is but the logical extension of the insight of Galatians, 'you are
all one in Christ Jesus' (Gal. 3:28). That Paul is here thinking along the
same lines is clear from the extremely close parallel between this verse and
Colossians 3:11, which speaks of the new man 'where there cannot be Greek and
Jew, circumcized and un-circumcized, barbarian, Scythian, but Christ is all,
and in all'. The sources
of Paul's vision of the church as a 'body' have been long debated. The
predominant view that he drew on Greek philosophical reflections on the body
politic is also the most implausible. It is psychologically impossible that
Paul should have taken over to describe the church a term used to
characterize society. The latter appeared to him as riven by divisions (Gal.
3:28; 5:19-20), whereas the basic quality of the church was unity rooted in
love {page 246} (1 Thess. 4:9). It is much
more likely that he was jolted into thinking of the church as a 'body' by
reflecting on the most memorable feature of the temples of Asclepius
scattered throughout the eastern Mediterranean, namely, the ceramic
representations of parts of the body which had been cured. The recommendation
of Vitruvius that such temples be sited only in areas with clean air and pure
water made them favourite places of recreation, and there is no reason to
think that Paul did not frequent them on occasion. The sight of legs which
were not legs, brought Paul to the realization that a leg was truly a leg
only when part of a body. Believers, he inferred, were truly 'alive' only
when they 'belonged' to Christ as his members (Col. 2:6, 13; 3:4). The
'death' of egocentric isolation has been replaced by the 'life' of shared
existence. When
prolonged, this same line of thought gives us, 'holding fast to the head,
from whom the whole body, nourished and knit together through its joints and
ligaments, grows with a growth that is from God' (Col. 2:19). This use
of'head' in the sense of 'source' is better attested than the alternative
meaning 'superior', which is certainly the sense in Colossians 2: io. The
vision of the church as the Body of Christ also appears in later letters. It
is not surprising that they do not take up the distinction of 'head' and
'body', which was dictated here by the theological climate of the Colossian
church. In neither Corinth nor Rome was the supremacy of Christ questioned. Paul's
insistence that Christ is present in him, and in all members of the Church
draws the cosmic dimension of the Christological reflection of the Colossians
down into ecclesiology. Paradoxically this point is further underlined by
another specific feature of Colossians, namely, its identification of the
gospel (1:5, 23) as 'the mystery' (1:26,27; 2:2; 4:3), a theme that will
appear later in 1 Corinthians 2:6-9. This shift was no doubt inspired by the
philosophical approach to religion that had become fashionable at Colossae
(2:4, 8, 18). There is no intention to exalt the gospel to a level that it
did not previously enjoy. What Paul wants to get across is that 'the mystery'
is no longer a mystery! The revelation which Jews and Gentiles struggled to
find is no longer a secret. It has now been revealed by Christ and in Christ
(1:27; 2:2; 4:3). The riches of assured understanding, wisdom, and knowledge
are achieved, not by contemplation of a heavenly, spirit-filled dream world,
but by reflection on, and commitment to, Christ (2:2-3). Sometime later Paul
will express the same idea by presenting Christ as 'the power of God and the
wisdom of God' (1 Cor. 1:24). {page 247} Opponents of
the authenticity of Colossians give great importance to its realized
eschatology, which they claim is incompatible with the futurist eschatology
characteristic of the genuine letters. A close reading, however, reveals that
future statements predominate in Colosians. Christ is 'the hope of glory'
(1:27) because 'when he appears, you will appear with him in glory' (3:4; cf.
1 Thess. 4:17). There will be a final judgement (3:6, 15-16), at which both
the good and the bad will be assessed. The good will be presented holy and
blameless, only if they continue in the faith (1:22; cf. 1 Thess. 3:13). It
is within this clearly defined context that the two statements of realized
eschatology- 'you were raised with him' (2:12); 'if you have been raised with
Christ' (3:1); 'you died and your life is hidden with Christ in God'
(3:3)-must be understood. Manifestly they cannot mean that the Colossians
have already been physically raised from the dead. They are simply an
alternative, and more vivid, expression of the body theme, 'you who were dead
God has made alive together with him' (2:13; cf. 3:3). Grace has brought
about a fundamental change. For Paul it was imperative to make sure that the
Colossians understood that Christ had done everything essential. His
plenitude meant that there was nothing that the spirit powers could add. In 1
Thessalonians 4:1-12 Paul found it helpful to remind his converts that their
life-style as Christians must be radically different from their previous
comportment. In Colossians he does the same, but more explicitly, and at
greater length (3:1 to 4:6). No doubt as his experience as a pastor
increased, the generosity of his assumptions regarding human nature
diminished. No longer did he take it for granted that his converts would be
as whole-hearted as he had been in working out what behaviour was appropriate
to life in Christ. In addition the situation at Colossae was complicated by
the fact that some members of the church were attracted to excessive
ritualism and ascetic rigour (2:16-23), and looked down on others who did not
share their views. The
insistence on Jewish observances-'matters of food and drink, a festival, a
new moon, or a sabbath' (2:16)-reveals that the situation at Colossae was
analogous to that which obtained at Galatia, yet Paul's reaction is completely
different. Nowhere in Colossians does he evoke faith or the works of the Law.
This has led some to disqualify him as the author of Colossians. They should
rather have questioned just how similar the two situations were. In Galatia,
as we have seen, the churchs were troubled by intruders insisting {page 248} that they had a mandate from the
mother church in Antioch systematically to correct the gospel, which Paul had
preached, by imposing full observance of the Law. It was a frontal attack on
Paul personally, and on all that he believed. Nothing of the sort occurred in
the Lycus valley. The churches there were not founded under the aegis of
Antioch. There is not the slightest hint that Paul's authority was
questioned. There is no conclusive evidence that the false teachers were
fellow-Christians, or that they were active proselytizers. Some believers may
have been attracted to a form of esoteric Jewish teaching which circulated at
Colossae and wanted to share their new insights with others. They did not
reduce Christ to irrelevance as did the intruders in Galatia, but rather
exalted his mediatory role. The problem with which Paul had to deal was not a
doctrinaire attitude towards the Law, but the ascetic-mystical piety of
Jewish apocalypticism, whose roots were more emotional than theological. In
Galatia Paul had to counter a really serious threat, which was being pushed
home as a matter of principle. At Colossae the issue was a fashionable fad,
whose followers sought 'heavenly ascents by means of various ascetic
practices involving abstinence from eating and drinking, as well as careful
observance of the Jewish festivals. These experiences of heavenly ascent
climaxed in a vision of the throne and in worship offered by the angelic
hosts surrounding it.' Jewish observances were important, not in themselves,
but as the means to an end. Given such
differences, it would have been surprising to find Paul using at Colossae the
tactics which had suited the situation in Galatia. There he had to demolish a
thoroughly worked out vision of Christianity, whose coherent arguments were
rooted in revelation. His opponents at Colossae, on the contrary, had no such
intellectual depth. They described mysteries, apocalyptic visions, whose
reality no one could verify. In contrast to the well-rooted epresentatives of
Antioch, they floated in a fantasy world. Paul's concern was to restore a
sense of reality, to set the feet of the misguided on solid ground. They
grasped at shadows; he had to show them that Christ was substance (2:17). The
most effective tactic was not to challenge the mystics head on, but to
consistently introduce discreet modifications, whose cumulative impact would
subvert their teaching completely. He relied on the sobering effect of the
calm assumption of authority. It is in this
perspective that we must approach Paul's use of a household code (3:18 to
4:1) which, if he were true to himself, he should never have employed. {page 249} Nothing similar appears in any
previous or subsequent letter of his. This series of paired injunctions
(wives-husbands/children-parents/slaves-masters), not only represented the
conventional morality of society, a social grouping that for Paul was the
antithesis of the church, but it flatly contradicts the structure of the
church 'where there cannot be Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircum-cised,
slave and freeman' (3:11). The use of the code here makes sense only as an
invitation to the Colossians to leave the mystical realm of the angels and to
return to the real world, where the fabric of daily life was woven from a
multitude of interpersonal relations, of which the most basic were the three
pairs listed here. What is said
to slaves stands out from the others both quantitatively and qualitatively
(Col. 3:22-5). Inevitably commentators have seen a relationship to the
situation of Onesimus, who was returning to confront his injured master (Col.
4:9). In that case, however, one would have expected either a warning to
slaves not to imitate the dishonesty of Onesimus, or an expanded monition to
owners on how slaves should be treated. Neither appears here. It might be
thought that the directive was made necessary by agitation among Christian
slaves at Colossae to be given the equality they theoretically enjoyed as members
of the same Body, but the formulation militates against this interpretation. We are forced
to conclude that Colossians 3:22-25 reflects Paul's habitual attitude towards
slaves who accepted Christianity. Contrary to what one might have expected,
he was not concerned with their liberation. Within the community he took it
for granted that they would show and share the love that was its most
distinctive feature, but there is no hint that he did anything to change the
social order. This is well illustrated by the case of Onesimus. Paul's
request was that he should not be treated 'as a slave' when he returned to
Colossae. There is no demand that he be manumitted (Philem. 16-17). When
sometime later Paul was forced to confront the issue of slavery by the
Corinthians, who believed that their relationship with God could be improved
by a change in social status, he responded (a) that no change should be
initiated for the sake of principle; (b) that a social change could be
initiated to compensate for a human weakness; and (c) that a social change
initiated by factors outside one's control could be accepted (1 Cor.
7:17-24). In Colossians
3:22-5 all Paul's attention is focused on the authenticity of a slave's life.
Of the six relationships dealt with in the household code, only two were
likely to be marked by deception. In many ways the position of children was
parallel to that of slaves; they did not control their lives. The former,
however, are minors, and it is a father's duty not to create the conditions
for deception. Even if ill-treated, slaves are adults, and responsible for
their {page 250} attitudes. What Paul does
not want them to do is to obey orders to the letter, while the heart raged,
and hate corroded the spirit. The reason behind this position can be deduced
from Colossians 4:5-6, where Paul stresses the witness value of the
comportment of Christians (cf. 1 Thess. 4:12). The internal tension, which
was the occupational disease of slavery, had to be resolved in order to
permit the transforming effect of grace become visible. While in
prison in Ephesus Paul planned two visits as soon as he was released, one to
Philippi (Phil. 1:26; 2:24) and the other to Colossae (Philem. 22). He did
not make the visit to Philippi. It was still on his agenda in the early
summer of ad 54 when he wrote 1 Corinthians 16:5. Was the visit to Colossae
also aborted? Paul was
probably released in the latter part of the summer of ad 53. We have seen
that the likely reason why he did not go to Philippi was the situation in the
church at Ephesus, where there was significant opposition to his leadership.
The round trip would have taken the minimum of a month and brought him
dangerously close to the moment when normal sea travel ceased. If ships no
longer sailed from Neapolis, he would be trapped in Macedonia for the winter,
with unacceptable consequences. A prolonged absence might guarantee the
success of a different vision of Christianity at Ephesus. Moreover, to leave
the city at that crucial moment might be interpreted as the flight of a
coward. These
reflections do not militate with the same force against a visit to Colossae.
Paul's reason for going to Philippi was essentially for the pleasure of
seeing believers who had always been loyal and co-operative. It was intended
to refresh his spirit after a tense time under investigation. Apart from the
tension generated by the personal competition of Euodia and Syntyche (Phil.
4:2), there were no problems that imperatively demanded his presence. It
would not have been difficult for Paul to rationalize his failure to keep his
promise to the Philippians as the repudiation of a selfish decision made in a
moment of weakness. The planned
visit to Colossae could not be avoided so easily. An important doctrinal
point was at stake, and, Paul had accepted responsibility for the work of his
agent, Epaphras, by writing letters to the Colossians and to the Laodiceans.
He needed to know whether the way he had dealt with the false teachers had
been successful. If not, it was imperative to make a further effort. Paul,
however, did not have to go to Colossae himself. There were at least two
other sources of information available. Tychicus was a permanent member of {page 251} Paul's entourage (2 Tim. 4:12).
Although it is not stated, it must be presumed Paul expected him to return to
Ephesus with a report on the situation at Colossae. Epaphras would certainly
have returned to Colossae the moment he was released, and could be back in
Ephesus within two weeks, if the situation warranted it. Paul must
have wondered whether he should rely on second-hand information or go and see
for himself? A decisive factor in his internal debate was his conviction of
the autonomy of the local community. Whatever needed to be done as the result
of his letter would have to be accomplished from within, as a member of the
community. In many other churches this would mean no more than slipping back
into the niche which he had occupied for a year or more. At Colossae he knew
people only by reputation. He had met none of them personally (Col. 2:1). To
know them, and to be known by them, would take time. The more he thought
about it, the more Paul became convinced that, if he went to the Lycus
valley, he would be obliged to spend the winter there. Could he
afford so much time away from Ephesus? On balance Paul thought not. His
personal position there was in danger, and it was the place which he had
selected as his base for contacts with other churches. He had just had to
deal with a problem in Corinth via the Previous Letter (1 Cor. 5:9).
Moreover, he had not formally promised the Colossians that he would visit
them. Nothing about a visit is mentioned in Colossians and he did not plan to
stay with Epaphras, the leader of the community, with whom he had shared a
prison cell. The request for a guest-room was addressed to Philemon (Philem.
22), and could be considered a purely private matter. It would be more
prudent, Paul decided, to wait for the reports of Tychicus and Epaphras. What news
they brought him we shall never know. From the following spring Paul was
completely absorbed by the problems of the church in Corinth, and left
Colossae to the care of Epaphras. |