Paul and the Faithfulness of God Chapter 1

Paul and the Faithfulness of God
Chapter One: “Return of the Runaway” (pp. 3-74).

Though N. T. Wright begins with a warming exegesis of Philemon, primary focus for this chapter is on his worldview model. Wright’s new worldview model builds upon earlier versions presented in both The New Testament and the People of God and Jesus and the Victory of God (cf. 29 n. 83 for the references). The model is composed of four interrelated elements: (1) stories, (2) symbols, (3) praxis and (4) questions (28).

Symbols are buildings, clothes, coins, etc. (26). Praxes are the habitual everyday actions of people; how they orient themselves in the world around them, and of particular importance for this book (26). The questions Wright uses are the “elementary questions which Rudyard Kipling referred to as his ‘six honest serving men’ who ‘taught him all he knew’: What, Why When, How, Where and Who” (26). Wright has used these questions before, posing them as: Who are we? What’s wrong? What’s the solution? And What time is it? (26 n. 76). Again, each of these elements is interrelated.

This worldview/mindset (Wright uses these terms mostly interchangeably; the difference is worldview belongs to a community, while mindset an individual) generates basic beliefs and consequent beliefs, and aims and intentions (28). The difference between basic and consequent beliefs is that the latter is only slightly removed from the former because it is a result of the worldview (64). Aims is the central hope and goal of the worldview, or the person holding to it, while intentions is the manner of going about the aims (64). Basic beliefs relate to aims (the goals themselves) as consequent beliefs relate to intentions (how to achieve those goals). The four components together are rooted in the worldview model of the above paragraph (see the charts on 29, 64 and 65). These four components also give rise to the meaningful actions and words of an individual, such as Paul in our case (29).

Applied to Philemon we learn that Paul’s chief aim in the letter is for reconciliation between Philemon and Onesimus (30). Wright points out the importance of novum seen in this praxis of Paul: “This is new. There is no sign he is appealing to, or making use of, the symbols and praxis of his native Jewish world” (30). And the “new symbolic praxis which stood at the heart of his renewed worldview was the unity of the Messiah’s people” (30). [Wright will draw increasingly from both Wayne Meeks The First Urban Christians (1983) and David Horrell’s Solidarity and Difference: A Contemporary Reading of Paul’s Ethics (2005) throughout the entire project. We note here the centrality of sociology in their critical approach to Paul.]

Chapter one ends with an allegory on Philemon. The allegory is about a great and long-needed reconciliation between history and theology. In it Philemon plays the role of a very rude Theological Orthodoxy while Onesimus represents Enlightenment historiography (69). Onesimus, as the runaway slave, is only trying to break out of the “small and stifling theological world” of Philemon’s strict orthodoxy; while Philemon, the self-appointed guardian of Pauline orthodoxy, is “only prepared to have the slave back in the house once he’s been suitably chastised and given strict conditions of service” (69). Now, it is Paul’s aim to reconcile both and, therefore, let the runaway return. (Perhaps, further playing on the chapter’s title, “Return of the Runaway,” is Wright’s re-introduction of his controversial understanding of the parable of the prodigal son from Jesus and the Victory of God, where he seems to acknowledge his mistaken interpretation of that parable; 68.)

CRITICISMS

I discussed in my last post how Wright’s model is essentially one of coherence. Adding to and complicating his mistaken use of coherence as a governing criticism is Wright’s strict focus to make Paul’s theology answerable to it. That theology should be answerable to history we take for granted. But contemporary sociology? Here the exegete must act with great care. [Wright will often say, a worldview isn’t something you can look at, but is something you look through. How unfortunate we cannot validate the model on grounds other than by judging its coherence since Paul never writes of his worldview.] This should prompt the careful attention of historians: “We have, then, a set of questions about Paul (history, theology, exegesis and ‘application’, each with considerable subdivisions), and a set of worldview inquiries with which to address [answer?] them (story, praxis, symbol and questions, plus ‘culture’ and ‘worship’).” (63).

Without using qualified historical or theological data to govern it, the operative worldview can mean anything and, since we are using it to create the context for Paul’s theology, perhaps our theology as well. It is equivocal. Perhaps this is just the necessary result of applying modern sociological paradigms to biblical history? On this I would have to read more. But on the face of the matter they are different enterprises with different purposes. For starters sociology is more concerned with seeing things simply as they are and accomplishes its task by channeling subjects and objects into modern categories to provide a holistic understanding. The discipline is less concerned with the science of how, when or why, which is the sort of science the historian greatly desires. While we can see a Pauline portrait emerge by applying Wright’s sociological model, it’s as good as anyone’s. What we need is the proven one using a worldview/coherence model built on primary, historically-tuned criticisms, generally held by the scholarly community, which can legitimate an accepted conclusion.

Further, this worldview model is quite a busy one with complex interrelatedness for each of its constituent parts, and several applicable dimensions such as (1) Wright’s general historical sketches (of Judaism, and Greek and Roman cultures), (2) Saul of Tarsus’ mindset, and, following his conversion, (3) the new Paul’s mindset. With so much going on methodologically it’s easy to get lost in which part of the book’s hypotheses have been qualified and act as meaningful history. (This is not a remark about the very careful layout and accessibility of the book.)

These thoughts are probably too harsh to do justice to the majesty of Wright’s Paul, or the still impressive model of coherence that couches him. This would be an excellent opportunity for students of Wright to pursue, that is, substantiating more critically his coherence/worldview model as it applies to Paul – and even Jesus.

Reviewing Paul and the Faithfulness of God

My name is Michael Metts. I hold a Bachelor of Arts degree in Biblical Studies from Criswell College (summa cum laude), and am presently completing an Advanced Master of Divinity degree, with a biblical languages major, at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in my hometown of Fort Worth, Texas.

A few points should be mentioned before proceeding forward with this multi-part review of N. T. Wright’s hefty book on Paul (1,660 pages), Paul and the Faithfulness of God. [I enjoy tackling large works. Such as Karl Barth’s fourteen volume Church Dogmatics, or, better, Carl F. H. Henry’s six-volume God, Revelation and Authority.]

First, I am not a scholar. More informed readers will readily identify the missing pieces in my graduate level of understanding, to which I welcome outside correction and learning. I enjoy reading N. T. Wright for the same reasons most everyone does: (1) he is imaginative and creative, (2) refreshing and (3) challenging. I have carefully read all volumes of Christian Origins and the Question of God. I also labor to be a student in the truest sense of the word. (I thank Professor Kirk Spencer of the Criswell College for demonstrating such love of learning for not only myself, but for countless other students.) I enjoy reading, with a pen, and thinking deeply about what an author is doing, especially when they take the time to create such a comprehensive portrait as Wright has done; honestly representing their views as best I am able, and admiring them for the virtues demanded by such extensive laboring. The chapter reviews that follow should be read as both charitable and thoughtful — even when I am often critical. And hopefully profitable as well. I will try to focus my criticisms primarily on Wright’s methodology as he practices it and not simply in its theoretical garb.

Second, I remain convinced of the centrality of justification by grace through faith in Christ. It is my deeply held belief that this is the theologia crucis of Paul’s gospel and of the New Testament. I will, therefore, have reasonable criticisms of some of the New Perspective elements taken up in PFG, though they do seem to be limited, at least in the first book.

Third, I want to point out a quite obvious gap in Wright’s work that I have not seen anyone else address at this point. It occurred to me this past year while reading James D. G. Dunn’s Beginning from Jerusalem: Wright never actually describes Christian origins. What I mean is that there remains a very large historical gap between Jesus’ resurrection and the apostle Paul’s epistles in Wright’s extensive project. He has yet to take us from the ascension of Christ, the movement’s beginnings in Jerusalem, the early preaching of the apostles and the formation of the early Church, to the letters of Paul. In short: Where is Acts? How does Wright see it all starting? How does he see it originating?

Fourth, PFG is arranged chiastically. This means that the material treated in earlier chapters of the first volume (Parts I and II) will be treated again in the second (the corresponding Parts III and IV). Please recognize that I cannot anticipate what Wright may say ahead of time, I treat only each chapter as it arises. Should Wright validate his arguments later in the book, we will be certain to discover those validations. With very few exceptions I am reviewing each chapter as I read it.

Lastly, I have grown increasingly impressed with N. T. Wright’s literary artistry. Though a first rate historian and formidable scholar, Wright’s default mindset (to borrower his term) is not far from that of an artist. Wright likes to paint the big picture, using the most broad and meaningful brushstrokes as he does so. In this manner he is a methodological coherentist. He wants to understand not just the exegetical statements of Paul or the New Testament, but the entire historical portrait behind them, and how the historical processes both define and shape them. I think at times Wright’s emphasis on this larger, reconstructed portrait is not nearly critically qualified, at least not to the extent that many of his peers labor to accomplish such as James Dunn.

The problem with this, though, is that coherentism – as a historical-critical tool – always functions by necessity as a secondary criterion. Unless primary criticisms operate first, the entire portrait is jeopardized. My point here is simply that coherentism, or Wright’s critically-realistic, narrative worldview model, cannot stand on its own. The resulting portrait may be very compelling, but it undoubtedly will be an impressionist’s portrait, since no primary criticisms have stabilized Wright’s easel. Coherence is ill suited as a Monet (perhaps it’s no accident the French also gave us Derrida?). Coherence should more resemble the natural feats of, perhaps, Florentine Renaissance artisans, where every care is taken to replicate the painted object with more exactitude — and less impression.