The state as a necessary evil

[A follow-up to Church and state: four theses]

I'm currently working through an anthology of essays by philosopher Paul Ricoeur, Figuring the Sacred: Religion, Narrative, and Imagination. I've just finished "A Philosophical Hermeneutics of Religion: Kant", in which Ricoeur summarizes Immanuel Kant's Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone.

Tough slogging? Yes, easily the most difficult of the four Ricoeur essays I've studied so far.

In this post, I'd like to call attention to Kant's view of Church and state, as summarized by Ricoeur. The Church's raison d'être is to effect what the state cannot:  the liberation of human beings' bound will.

No political institution can satisfy the requirements of a community devoted to the regeneration of the will. …

Historical action can engender only a relative state of public peace, motivated by the antagonism Kant calls our "unsociable sociability." The civil peace we call a state of law is not virtue, but rather an armistice in the war among interests. …

Kant even goes so far as to say in his essay "Perpetual Peace" that "the problem of organizing a state, however hard it may seem, can be solved even for a race of devils." Establishing peace "does not require that we know how to attain the moral improvement of men but only that we should know the mechanism of nature in order to use it on men … in such a way that they must compel themselves to submit to coercive laws."

For this reason, no political philosophy, and more generally no philosophy of culture, can satisfy the requirement of a community that aims at the regeneration of the will through specific public means.¹

I agree with Kant's view of the state. I would sum it up in the following propositions:

1. The state cannot accomplish what the Church sets out to achieve:  namely, the regeneration of humankind's corrupt will (= the liberation of humankind's bound will).


2. The state has a lesser, but still significant (and, I would add, God-ordained) role:  to establish social order despite the evil that is always present everywhere among human beings.


3. The state employs unethical, coercive means to achieve its end.

Kant's cynical perspective on human beings is captured in the pithy phrase, "unsocial sociability". We stubbornly persist in forming communities, despite our constant prickliness toward one another. Moreover, within any given community, there are sub-communities:  tribes or cliques bound together by shared interests, inevitably opposed to other sub-communities with competing interests.

The best we are capable of, Kant observes, is an armistice of interests. When we arrive at that modest achievement, we call it "the rule of law".

Kant sums up the state's limited role in his remark about a race of devils. The state does not have the capacity to effect an improvement in humankind's morals. The human will remains corrupt but still the state manages to establish (relative) peace.

The state does so by using the "mechanism of nature" on human beings in such a way that they are compelled to submit to coercive laws. It isn't clear, from Ricoeur's essay, what precisely Kant means by the phrase "mechanism of nature". But I think the gist of the statement is clear:  the state assumes wickedness on the part of human beings, and establishes institutions (laws, police forces, courts, jails) to contain wicked conduct within tolerable bounds.

Thus the state is not a benign institution:  it employs coercive tactics. Nor, on the other hand, is the state absolutely evil:  it responds to a real need (the need to contain human wickedness) and accomplishes a significant good (social order).

The state is a human institution, corrupted by the evil that is always present everywhere among human beings. (So is the Church, as I argued in my earlier post.)

The state may be relatively good or relatively evil; in exceptional cases, it may be extremely good or (more likely) extremely evil; but it is never absolutely good or absolutely evil. Hence Paul could instruct us to submit to the state "not only to avoid God's wrath but also for the sake of conscience" (Ro. 13:5).

[For the crucial importance of the Church as a check on state totalitarianism, see my post on Outside the Box.]


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¹Figuring the Sacred: Religion, Narrative, and Imagination, Fortress Press, 1995, p. 89.

Adam soteriology: a refinement

In a comment on the previous post, Jamie asked why Christ's death is important to Adam soteriology, the atonement theory I had proposed.

My immediate answer was (in part):

My response would be to bring Christ's death into relation with his act of obedience. Jesus had to obey to the furthest depths of his being. Where Adam sought to exalt himself, Christ had to abase himself to the ultimate extent. A willingness not merely to die, but to suffer torture and public humiliation — and even a season of alienation from God — to obey such a destiny is surely the ultimate act of obedience.

That was my immediate answer, but I confess to some ongoing ambivalence about it.

The challenge with any atonement theory, it seems to me, is to hold two principles in uneasy tension. On the one hand, we must accord real, salvific significance to Christ's death (this is what Jamie challenged me to do), and not reduce it to a mere accident of history. On the other hand, we don't want to depict God as some sort of vengeful monster who demands nothing less than brutal violence, bloodshed, and death as a satisfaction for sin.

In order to exonerate God of this charge of savage cruelty (sadism), we might blame the brutality of Christ's death on the human actors who executed him:  the Roman procurator, the Jewish high priest, or whomever we deem culpable. The problem is, this seems to reduce Jesus' death to a historical accident.

Jesus did not regard martyrdom that way. He regarded it as his destiny, his calling:

At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you."

And he said to them, "Go and tell that fox, 'Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I finish my course. Nevertheless, I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the day following, for it cannot be that a prophet should perish away from Jerusalem.'" (Luke 13:31-33)¹

Some scholars are sceptical about the three predictions of crucifixion attributed to Jesus (Mark 8:31; 9:31; 10:33-34). The more detailed the predictions become — note the specifics of the third prediction — the more likely it is that they were composed after the event.

Other scholars argue that Jesus easily could have foreseen a death of the sort described in Luke 13. The powers-that-be were hostile to Jesus' ministry, and prophets had been martyred in the past in a vain attempt to silence them. Thus it is not difficult to imagine that Jesus predicted his martyrdom in general terms, which were perhaps fleshed out in greater detail post eventu.

Jesus was fully aware that death awaited him in Jerusalem, but he made no attempt to evade it. He saw martyrdom as a divinely appointed destiny:  a divine "must" (Gk. dei)² compelled him onward toward it:

And he [prayed], "Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will." (Mark 14:36)

Based on the above text, we could summarize the course of events as follows:  (1) God willed Jesus' death; (2) therefore Jesus voluntarily submitted to betrayal and execution. I propose, instead, a slightly more complex chain of cause-and-effect:

1. God willed Jesus' obedience (in contradistinction to Adam's disobedience);
   
2. Precisely because of his uncompromising obedience to God's will, Jesus made powerful enemies, who resolved that he must be silenced;
   
3. Therefore it was inevitable that continued obedience would culminate in Jesus' martydom.

On this analysis, God didn't directly will Jesus' death, but merely Jesus' obedience.

The decision of the powers-that-be to murder Jesus was not a direct reflection of God's will; it merely expressed the hatred human beings harbour toward God, who was embodied perfectly in Christ. The crucifixion is a kind of train wreck, where the human "way" intersects and collides with the divine "way", giving rise to murderous passions on the part of the human actors.

When Paul depicts Jesus as an antitype of Adam in Romans 5, the typology turns on the contrast between Adam's disobedience and Jesus' obedience. It is the obedience that is salvific. And yet, because the crucifixion was an inevitable consequence of Christ's perfect obedience, Paul can assert:

… he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (Php. 2:8)

My intent, obviously, is to step back from the ham-fisted formula, God tortured Jesus in order to effect our salvation.

Insofar as we speak of God's destructive wrath poured out against sin, I have no objection to the penal substitution atonement theory. 2Co. 5:21 is pertinent here:

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

If Christ in some sense became sin, God's wrath is poured out on sin. But as soon as we begin to envision God's destructive wrath poured out upon Jesus, I suspect our analysis has gone off track. (Though admittedly, it is a fine distinction I'm making here!)

In any event, I propose that Adam soteriology is free of this potential defect. The right way to look at it is, God directly willed Christ's obedience, and it is this obedience which is salvific. The crucifixion was merely a by-product of the obedience, though it was inevitable because of the violent hatred fallen human beings harbour toward God.

The only way for Jesus to evade martyrdom was to cease to obey God. That option, obviously, wasn't open to him.


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¹Unless otherwise indicated, scripture is quoted from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version.

²Mark 8:31 and Luke 13:33, both cited above; Luke 17:25, 22:37, 24:7.

Adam soteriology

Christ is an antitype of Adam — "the last Adam", according to St. Paul:

For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. … Thus it is written, "The first man Adam became a living being"; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. (1Co. 15:22,45)¹

Theologians commonly speak of Adam christology. But I want to propose that this construct (Christ as a second Adam) should be regarded as an alternative atonement theory. Hence the title of the post, Adam soteriology.²

There are three classical theories of atonement. None of them is free of difficulties, although evangelical Christians tend to subscribe to third theory, penal substitution.

Here's the way I look at it. Each atonement theory begins by identifying a specific problem, then proposes that Christ's death is the solution to that problem.

theory	assumed problem	solution
Ransom:3 (Origen, Augustine, Gregory the Great; dominant theory in the 2nd-10th centuries)	Reflects a culture that was familiar with the institution of slavery. Proposes that we are Satan's property (his slaves, or perhaps his captives) because of our sins.	Christ's death is God's payment to Satan to purchase our freedom. (Ultimately Satan is tricked because death cannot hold Christ, who rises from the dead.)
Satisfaction: (Anselm; dominant theory in the 11th-15th centuries)	Reflects the honour/shame culture of feudal society. God is our Lord; by sinning, we insult God's honour; the insult must be requited or God would be shamed.	Christ's death requites the insult of our sin, upholding God's honour.
Penal Substitution: (Luther, Calvin; dominant from the 16th century onwards)	The model is judicial, reflecting a culture where legal justice is the preeminent value. As a just judge, God cannot allow sin to go unpunished.	Christ dies as our substitute to pay the lawful penalty (death) owed by us.

I am proposing the addition of a fourth model:

theory	assumed problem	solution
Adam soteriology:	The problem is not a matter of our slavery, or of God's honour or his justice. It is a matter of history. Adam's historical act of disobedience corrupted the entire human race and, indeed, the whole of creation.	Jesus recapitulated Adam’s history; except, where Adam was disobedient (resulting in death — not for Adam alone), Jesus was obedient (resulting in life — not for Jesus alone).

This theory proposes that humankind's problem is historical in nature:  and the solution is correspondingly historical.

How did Jesus' death set things right again? By reversing the history of Adam’s fall from grace. Jesus' obedience (unto death, even death on a cross) set creation on a new historical foundation. Adam blazed a trail to death; Jesus blazed a new trail through death to life.

I realize that this answer is only partially satisfactory. But one might just as well ask, How did Adam's sin result in the corruption of the whole of creation? If Adam's historic sin could have such far-reaching consequences, then Christ's historic act of ultimate obedience could, too.

Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned — for sin indeed was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not counted where there is no law. Yet death reigned from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sinning was not like the transgression of Adam, who was a type of the one who was to come.

But the free gift is not like the trespass. For if many died through one man's trespass, much more have the grace of God and the free gift by the grace of that one man Jesus Christ abounded for many. And the free gift is not like the result of that one man's sin. For the judgment following one trespass brought condemnation, but the free gift following many trespasses brought justification. For if, because of one man's trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ.

Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. For as by the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many will be made righteous.

(Ro. 5:12-19)

None of these insights are original to me. It's just that the construct is usually described as a christological doctrine; whereas I think it makes equally good sense as soteriology.

The proposed theory appeals to me because it emphasizes historical deeds, and the notion of salvation history is common to both Judaism and Christianity.

The theory also appeals to me because penal substitution, the dominant model among evangelicals, has significant drawbacks:

• The old theological term, propitiation, tends to represent God as savage or bloodthirsty; his wrath can only be turned aside by means of a blood sacrifice.
  
• The traditional emphasis on legal justice tends to imply that God is subordinate to the law; that God is under an obligation to satisfy the requirements of the law.
  
• The notion of God punishing Jesus tends to cast God in the role of the abusive father; the more graphically we depict Christ's suffering, the worse this problem becomes.
  
• One must also ask whether the substitution of an innocent victim for the guilty party can be characterized as a "just" resolution of the problem:  is it not rather a miscarriage of justice when the innocent one suffers while the guilty one goes free?

This is not to deny that the New Testament teaches penal substitution, because I am persuaded that it does. However, particularly in our interactions with non-Christians (for the purposes of evangelism or apologetics), I think we would do better to emphasize Adam soteriology rather than the traditional alternatives.


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¹Unless otherwise indicated, scripture is quoted from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version.

²James Dunn occasionally uses the phrase "Adam soteriology" in Christology In the Making: An Inquiry into the Origins of the Doctrine of the Incarnation, 2nd ed., 1989. For example, he expounds one element of Paul's theology as follows:

Salvation consists in the believer being transformed into the image of God (2Co. 3:18), consists in a progressive renewal in knowledge according to the image of the Creator (Col. 3:10; Eph. 4:24). So there is something of an Adam soteriology here — salvation as a restoration of man to that image in which Adam had been created. (p. 105)

³The ransom theory (or at least, a modified form of it) is sometimes referred to as Christus Victor.

Church and state: four theses

Another tangent! In response to Dan's current post, Understandings of Power (why Christians should avoid being in the government).

Thesis 1:
There is no such thing as "the Church" in the abstract.

"The Church" consists of concrete entities (though these entities also have a spiritual dimension to them). Human beings, in all their fleshliness, make up the Church. Buildings, bank accounts, organizational hierarchies — these things also are inescapably a component of "the Church", however much we may deplore it.

Thesis 2:
A human being is a human being, whether inside or outside of the Church.

In my younger, more idealistic days, I took 2Co. 5:17 at face value:  "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come."¹

Bitter experience has taught me that St. Paul here articulates an ideal, rather than a reality. Christians do not cease to be human beings when they are converted. We are fundamentally the same as human beings outside of the Church, not fundamentally different from, pace Paul's bold assertion.

Thesis 3:
The line dividing good from evil runs through the midst of every human being:  Christian and non-Christian alike.

Here I am of course alluding to Solzhenitsyn's famous statement:

If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.

Christians are fully human beings. Though they are Spirit-filled, they remain fallen. From the same source comes both blessing and curse. It ought not to be so — but it is so.

Non-Christians are human beings fundamentally like us. Though they are depraved, non-Christians too are created in God's image.

Thus Solzhenitsyn is right:  the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being, Christian and non-Christian alike.

Thesis 4:
Because the Church is a human institution, it commits acts both good and evil. The same is true of the secular state.

Dan asserts that it is intrinsic to government to crucify people. The Church also crucifies people, but crucifixion is extrinsic to the Church.

Dan asserts that it is intrinsic to the Church to benefit people. I hope Dan will concede that the secular state also benefits people — roads, hospitals, schools, donations of aid to other nations, etc. — but Dan dares to maintain that such benefits are extrinsic to the secular state.

Dan asserts that Christians ought not to work for the secular government. This cuts rather close to the bone for me, because I am in fact an employee of the Government of Canada.

Dan's (extreme, ideological) position leaves me rather breathless. I'm not offended by it, because I am unable to take it seriously. But I thought I would offer some theses to counter Dan's theses, to provide a rational foundation for my contrary convictions. Hence the four theses above.

Both the Church and the state crucify people; both the Church and the state benefit people. How can any Christian seriously maintain this intrinsic/extrinsic distinction, when both institutions serve up both good and evil in large proportions?

I use the word "institution" of the Church advisedly. The Church always establishes its own set of power relations, based on property, money, popularity, good looks, charisma, eloquence, musical talent, academic credentials, etc. Every social institution has its pecking order, based on considerations worthy and unworthy. The Church is no exception.

Such a pecking order exists at both the formal (organizational hierarchy) and informal (social hierarchy) levels, and the two pecking orders never correspond exactly.

Why isn't the Church an exception to the general rule? Because there is no "Church" in the abstract — spiritual and elevated above the things of this earth. The Church consists of concrete entities:  human beings plus buildings, cash, pianos, etc.

The state, as a human institution, is simultaneously both good and evil. So too, the Church, which is likewise a human institution.

Brothers and sisters, it ought not to be so. But it is:  and we must live in the real world. We must build our lives on a foundation of reality — not some abstraction that exists only in the pages of St. Paul's Spirit-fueled epistles.

In the eschaton, yes. Here and now? Regrettably — no.



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¹Unless otherwise indicated, scripture is quoted from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version.

Adam christology in the Philippians 2 hymn

who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.

And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

(Php. 2:6-11)¹

Johannes Weiss first called attention to the rhythmic nature of the above text in 1899. Today, there is nearly universal agreement that Paul is quoting a very early Christian hymn composed in honour of Jesus. The opening word, ὃς ("who"), hints at the same conclusion. "Who" sometimes functions as a kind of pivot introducing hymnlike confessions of faith:  see Col. 1:15, 1 Tim. 3:16, and Heb 1:3.

We've been discussing "Adam christology" (see the previous post). What does that mean? In the words of James Dunn,

The divine program for man [was] run through again with Jesus. Christ faced the same archetypal choice that confronted Adam, but chose not as Adam had chosen (to grasp equality with God). Instead he chose to empty himself of Adam's glory and to embrace Adam's lot, the fate which Adam had suffered by way of punishment. (Christology In the Making, p. 117)

Consequently, God super-exalted Jesus and installed him to the highest office, Lord of all.

Dunn is fitting the language of Php. 2:6-11 ("equality with God", "emptied himself") into the paradigm, Adam christology. It's a controversial interpretation of the Philippians text.

Evangelicals wouldn't know it, but the interpretation of Php. 2:6-11 is extremely contentious. Gerald Hawthorne writes,

The number of genuine exegetical problems and the sheer mass of books and articles it has called forth leaves one wondering where to begin. … There is little that can be agreed upon, whether the topic discussed is the precise form of this section, its authorship, its place and purpose in the letter, the sources used in its composition, and so on.

(Philippians, Word Biblical Commentary, ad loc.)

Most interpreters continue to see a clear reference to Christ's pre-existence in Philippians 2:6-11. But Dunn dares to question that interpretation:

As J. Murphy-O'Connor has recently maintained … the common belief that Phil. 2:6-11 starts by speaking of Christ's pre-existent state and status and then of his incarnation is, in almost every case, a presupposition rather than a conclusion, a presupposition which again and again proves decisive in determining how disputed terms within the Philippians hymn should be understood. (p. 114)

Perhaps the easiest way to proceed is to lay out these two possible interpretations of the text side by side.

	pre-existence	Adam christology
was in the form of God (μορφῇ θεοῦ)2	refers to Jesus' divine status in heaven, before his conception in Mary's womb	Refers to Jesus' Adam-like status after his birth. "Form" (μορφῇ) of God is synonymous with "image" (εἰκών) of God. Like Adam before the first sin, the man Jesus bore the image and glory of God perfectly.
did not ἁρπαγμὸν [cling to?] [snatch at?] equality with God	Jesus, who already possessed equality with God, did not cling to it	Jesus, like Adam, was tempted to snatch at the possibility of god-like status (see Ge. 3:5) — but resisted
emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, γενόμενος [being born?] [becoming?] in the likeness of men	refers to Jesus' incarnation: he divested himself of his deity and was born in the likeness of a human being	γενόμενος is not to be translated "born" but "becoming" (just as it is translated in vs. 8). When Adam sinned, he became estranged from God, a slave to sin and corruption (suffering / death). Jesus, who did not sin, might have claimed an exemption from the universal human pattern (the "likeness of a human being"). He did not stand on his rights but emptied himself: i.e., he voluntarily participated in Adam's state of slavery.
being found in form as man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross	emphasizes death by crucifixion as the ultimate expression of Jesus' self-emptying	ditto; with the theological observation that Jesus' suffering and death were a voluntary participation in Adam's suffering and death
Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name ("Lord") that is above every name	a return to the status Jesus already enjoyed prior to his incarnation, concluding a pattern of glory/descent/return to glory	elevation to a status Jesus had not formerly possessed: the status that Adam was destined for but never attained because of his sin

Dunn summarizes:

The Christ of Phil. 2:6-11 therefore is the man who undid Adam's wrong:  confronted with the same choice [whether to snatch at equality with God], he rejected Adam's sin, but nevertheless freely followed Adam's course as fallen man to the bitter end of death; wherefore God bestowed on him the status not simply that Adam lost, but the status which Adam was intended [but failed] to come to. (p. 119, emphasis in original)

Via his obedience unto death, Jesus became God's final prototype, the last Adam.

Am I convinced that Dunn's interpretation of Php. 2:6-11 is the right one? No.

Am I convinced that Dunn's interpretation of Php. 2:6-11 is a legitimate, possible interpretation? Yes.

This controversy is an outstanding example of the difficulty of interpreting the biblical texts. Individual words (μορφῇ, "form"; ἁρπαγμὸν, "cling to" or "snatch at"; and γενόμενος, "born" or "becoming") are ambiguous. Their interpretation turns on our presuppositions:  the paradigm we impose on the text.

When we read the text through the traditional lens (trinitarianism, fully articulated only in the post-biblical era), Php. 2:6-11 clearly refers to Christ's pre-existence. It never occurs to us that another interpretation might be possible — one that sees no reference to pre-existence in the text. But then another paradigm is suggested — in this case, Adam christology — and we realize with some shock that it makes sense.

What then? We're left with two divergent interpretations, and it is impossible to know for certain which one is correct.

Postmodernists say that all interpretation is like that:  we get out of the text what we bring to the text; therefore no text has a single "right" interpretation. Meaning is always subjective and legitimately contested.

The postmodern perspective is obviously problematic for the concept of biblical authority. But whether or not we're comfortable with its implications, Php. 2:6-11 is a good example of the real challenges of interpreting biblical texts.


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¹Here, Php. 2:6-11 is quoted from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. When individual phrases are later inserted into a table, I am not following any one English translation.

²The Greek text is copied from the Online Greek Bible using the font, Athena.

Adam christology in Paul's letters

And now for something completely different …!

In general, Emerging From Babel consciously focuses on exegesis of the Old Testament. But since I'm a Christian, interacting with other bibliobloggers, I continue to get drawn into dialogue on New Testament issues as well. Thus I've gotten sidetracked (it happens all the time) by a recent post on Chris Tilling's blog.

Chris has been surveying the content of a recent publication by Gordon D. Fee:  Pauline Christology: An Exegetical-Theological Study (Peabody, Mass: Hendrickson, 2007). Part 7 of Chris's survey touches on the question of Adam christology:

While there is an Adam Christology in Paul, "in terms of actual language and echoes from Gen 1-2, it is limited to two kinds of passages:  first, explicit contrasts between Christ and Adam … and, second, where the incarnate Christ is seen as the true bearer of the divine image".

I'd like to explore this topic here (having already posted several long comments on Chris's blog).

In this post, we'll deal with the topic of Adam christology in general. In the follow-up post, we'll take a look at the great hymn contained in Philippians 2.

1. Allusions to Adam:

Adam plays a larger role in Paul's theology than is usually realized. … Adam is a key figure in Paul's attempt to express his understanding both of Christ and of man.

(James Dunn, Christology In the Making: An Inquiry into the Origins of the Doctrine of the Incarnation, 2nd ed., 1989, p. 101.)

Dunn argues that there are numerous allusions to Adam where Adam is not explicitly mentioned. I would summarize the texts by saying that they deal with the whole notion of the "fall of man":  a fall from grace into depravity, separation from God, hardship, suffering, and ultimately death.

Those themes are of course sounded in the story of Adam's creation and disobedience, recounted in Genesis 1-3 —

• created in God's image / likeness;
  
• bore God's glory;
  
• tempted by the promise that he could be like God;
  
• disobeyed God's command;
  
• forfeited God's glory and perhaps also God's image / likeness;
  
• became a slave to sin and death;
  
• the creation likewise was subject to bondage and decay.

Of the above items, the most interesting concerns the image / likeness / glory of God. Did humanity forfeit these things, either in Adam's sin or in our own subsequent sins (or both)?

That humanity forfeited God's image at the fall was not a traditional Jewish view:

The motif of man made in the divine image does not play a large part in Jewish thought — it seems to have been taken more or less for granted. … More striking is the fact that there is little or no thought of the divine image being effaced or obscured in Adam as a consequence of his fall (cf. Gen. 5:1-3; 9:6; James 3:9). (Dunn, p. 105)

On the other hand:

There may have been no real idea that Adam forfeited the image of God by his fall, but there was certainly a firm conviction that he had forfeited the glory of God. … Thus in [the rabbinic texts] Gen. Rab. 12:6 and Num. Rab. 13:12 glory (or lustre) is one of the six things taken from Adam which would be restored in the world to come (see also Gen. Rab. 11:2; 21:5; Deut. Rab. 11:3). (Dunn, p. 106; I added the italics on "image" and "glory")

As for Paul, at one point he states that man (meaning literally the male) is the image and glory of God. But:

The dominant motif in Paul is that man is rather the image of fallen Adam, shares his corruptibility (1Co. 15:49), and that salvation consists in the believer being transformed into the image of God (2Co. 3:18), consists in a progressive renewal in knowledge according to the image of the Creator (Col. 3:10; Eph. 4:24). So there is something of an Adam soteriology here [NB. even where Adam is not explicitly mentioned] — salvation as a restoration of man to that image in which Adam had been created. (Dunn, p. 105)

Accordingly, Dunn sees references to Adam where a casual reader would not notice any such thing:  e.g.,

• "for all have sinned and forfeited the glory of God" (Ro. 3:23; Dunn's translation);
  
• "I was once alive apart from the law, but when the commandment came, sin came alive and I died. The very commandment that promised life proved to be death to me. For sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, deceived me and through it killed me" (Ro. 7:9).¹

On the latter text, Dunn comments:

Romans 7:9f. can be fully explicated only by reference to Adam. Only if he was thinking of Adam could Paul properly say that he was alive once apart from the law, and that the coming of the commandment brought sin to life and resulted in death for him. For a life "apart from law", and a "coming" of law which resulted in sin and death, was true of Adam in a way that it would not be true of anyone born after or under the law. …

Finally with Rom. 7:11, "for sin, finding opportunity in the commandment, deceived (ἐξηπάτησέν) me and by it killed me", we have a fairly explicit echo of the woman's complaint in Gen. 3:13 — "The serpent deceived (ηπάτησέν) me and I ate." (p. 104)

2. Explicit references to Adam:

The divine program for man which broke down with Adam has been run through again in Jesus — this time successfully. … Christ could not become last Adam, progenitor of a new manhood beyond death, if he had not first been Adam, one with the manhood which the first Adam begot. (Dunn, pp. 110-111)

We can now turn our attention to the only two texts in which Paul explicitly develops an Adam christology. First, Romans 5:12-19 —

Sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned. … Adam … was a type of the one who was to come.

But the free gift is not like the trespass. … For the judgment following one trespass brought condemnation, but the free gift following many trespasses brought justification. …

Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. For as by the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many will be made righteous.

Dunn comments:

Adam and Christ are alike (Adam the type of Christ — vs. 14) in that in both cases the action of one man had fateful consequences for those who followed. Both also died, but here the similarity ends. For where Adam's death was the consequence of his trespass, his disobedience, Christ's death was his act of righteousness, his act of obedience. …

By freely following out the consequences of Adam's disobedience (i.e. death), Jesus burst through the cul-de-sac of death into life. … [Thus] he was able to catch up man in resurrection, to make it possible for God's original intention for man to be fulfilled at the last. The point can be expressed thus:

          Adam's disobedience ———> death
               Christ's obedience to death ———> life.

(p. 111)

Second, 1Co. 15:20-49 —

Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. …

[The body of a dead person] is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. Thus it is written, "The first man Adam became a living being"; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. But it is not the spiritual that is first but the natural, and then the spiritual. The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. As was the man of dust, so also are those who are of the dust, and as is the man of heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.

Dunn comments:

It is likely that there is an underlying connection of thought … to the effect that Christ too first bore "the image of the man of dust" before he became "the man from heaven" (vs. 49), that he too was a "living soul" before he became "life-giving Spirit" (vs. 45). For only he who died as men die could become "the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep" (vs. 20). (p. 111)

Conclusion:

These are complex ideas:  they are familiar to us and yet they stretch our capacity to understand.

In the follow-up post, we will consider the great hymn in Philippians 2 to see whether it, too, is an instance of Adam christology. Dunn thinks it is, even though Adam is not explicitly mentioned.

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¹Unless otherwise indicated, scripture is quoted from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version.

Did St. Paul corrupt the teaching of Jesus?

Paul was the … first corrupter of the doctrines of Jesus.
(Thomas Jefferson, Letter to William Short, 1820)

The above quote is from a post on deConversion.com. The topic possesses perennial interest, and I strongly disagree with the stand taken by Thinking Ape.

I decided to address it on my other blog, Outside the Box, because it reaches a broader readership (i.e., including non-Christians).