6.1 Faith and Works: an Unhappy Couple?
In Christian, particularly post-Reformation theology, there is an awkward juxtaposition of the concepts of faith and works or, alternatively, of the areas of soteriology and ethics.1 In relational terms, the one seems unable to live with or without the other. The historical exemplum of this tenacious struggle is Martin Lutherâs infamous judgement of the Epistle of James, the epistle in which faith without works is deemed dead, as an âepistle of strawâ, whose strategy he deems unsuccessful, whose apostolicity erroneous, and whose canonicity contentious.2 Less well-known yet perhaps even more telling is Lutherâs resistance to the reconciliation attempt at the diet of Regensburg (1541), where the reformers Philipp Melanchthon and Martin Bucer reached an agreement with, among others, Johannes Gropper and Gasparo Contarini regarding the doctrine of justification.3 In a letter to the Elector of Saxony, Luther torpedoes their compromise and claims that
the two ideas of justification by faith alone without works (Rom 3.28) and faith working through love (Gal 5.6) had been thrown together and glued together (zu samen gereymet und geleymet): whereas one refers to becoming righteous, the other to the life of the righteous. (Luther 1930â1985, 9:406â9, #3616, as quoted by Fink 2010, 214, n. 27)
From Lutherâs perspective, apparently, faith can be construed in two fundamentally different ways.4 Faith is the antonym of works in the context of becoming righteous, yet it is the precondition of works (in the form of love) in the context of living the righteous life.
Lutherâs overall evaluation of faith may be more balanced than his rather pointed expression have made it appear, yet the unease with doing good deeds has left its mark on both the image and self-understanding of protestant Christianity and, simultaneously, on the image and understanding of the concept of faith. Although the project of this book is to distinguish between different forms of life of pistis, and whereas I concede to the Reformers that there is a difference between a discourse of justice and a discourse of ethics, the question remains whether we should think of it in terms of continuity or inversion. By building on the narrative of justice, law, and faith presented in chapter 3, this chapter aims to draw both discourses, that of âjustice and justificationâ and that of âworks and ethicsâ, more closely together.5
So, are we correct in calling faith a virtue? In the wake of Luther, the idea has taken root that if faith is endowed by divine grace alone, it cannot be a virtue at the same time. Virtue requires human practice and progress, in other words, works. And works are so suspect that not only faith but even virtue in general is claimed in some theologies to come naturally to Christians, powered by the Spirit of God. On the other hand, few people would deny that the Christian tradition bases itself on Paulâs own wordsâdiscussed at length in the previous chapterâwhen it calls faith one of the theological virtues. And why all the imperatives, does Paul not trust the ethical transformation by the Spirit? A logical escape would be to name faith a virtue of a different kind, one that escapes the slippery slope of human effort and is altogether different from the pagan variety. The idea that biblical faith could be something as Greek as a virtue âbedevilledâ the history of theology according to some scholars:
Faith is the leptikon organon, the divinely given instrument by which man is enabled to apprehend the personal grace of God in Christ. Faith is not a human work (â¦) In fact, however, the misunderstanding which sets faith itself in the category of meritorious works has bedevilled the history of theology to an extraordinary degree. (Lampe 1954, 62 quoted approvingly by Hebert 1955, 379)
But before we assume such an essential difference between early Christian and pagan conceptions, as these scholars so, we must ascertain if that is indeed what Paul meant and what Paulâs audience would have understood. Is it time for the virtue of faith to make a comeback?6
To a certain extent, the discussion about whether faith is a virtue is caught up in the debate on the meaning of pistis itself. The semantical breadth of the word group includes both what we might describe as a relational attitude, âfaithâ, âbeliefâ, or âtrustâ in someone or something, and a dispositional quality, âfaithfulnessâ, âloyaltyâ, or âtrustworthinessâ. From this semantic perspective, it is almost incredible how the Christian (particularly protestant) tradition managed to separate those two aspects of faith and faithfulness that are captured in one single Greek noun, pistis. If we read scholarly works on pistis from a century ago, however, both senses are apparently easily distinguishable: William Hatch bluntly states that âPaul uses ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï only twice in the sense of faithfulness.â7
In particular the meaning of pistis in the so-called pistis Christou formulations has turned into a hotly debated topic in the last decennia of New Testament scholarship (for some outlines of this debate, see §6.2.1 below): do these formulations bear the meaning of âfaith in Christâ or âfaithfulness of Christâ? In other wordsâand the words I will use often in this chapterâis pistis here an attitude or a virtue? Though I would have preferred to avoid the pistis Christou pitfall altogether, I cannot justify simply taking a detour and leaving this topic be. Indeed, I would submit that the comparison with pagan source material has a bearing on the understanding of pistis Christou as well. In this chapter, I argue that the cultural discourse of moral imitation forms the background of an important part of Pauline pistis vocabulary, including the seven occurrences of pistis Christou. From this perspective, the ambiguity of pistis as simultaneously an attitude towards a model and a virtue to imitate stands out. Faith is very much a matter of dependence and trust as an other-looking attitude. Yet part of this outward-looking, more-or-less âtransitiveâ aspect is the desire and endeavour to become like Christ or Christlike in thought, emotion, attitude, and action, i.e. in the virtue of faithfulness.
As for the structure of this chapter, I start off with an outline of scholarly discussions concerning pistis Christou (§6.2.1) and moral imitation in Paul (§6.2.2), after which I suggest converging the themes of pistis and imitation based on the Hellenistic-Roman discourse on moral imitation and âbecoming like Godâ (§6.2.3). In the next section (§6.3), this discourse is set out with its more general and more specific layers and its prominent participants. I first survey a diversity of genres attesting to the function of pistis as means and end of moral imitation, i.e. pistis as an attitude enabling imitation and as a moral quality to imitate (§6.3.1). Hereafter, I discuss the specific setting of Hellenistic-Roman philosophy, defined as a particularly practical enterprise, aimed at the development of a virtuous attitude, that could be described in terms of pistis (§6.3.2). Next, this philosophical education demonstrates that pistis as such functions in a mimetic chain of masters and students as both attitude and quality (§6.3.3). Thereafter, a much more specific ancient philosophical topos is addressed that goes by the name of homoiÅsis theÅi, in which the gods are the object of imitation, participation, or assimilation (§6.3.4), sometimes even with respect to pistis (§6.3.5). From this setting, I return to Paul, arguing that often in his letters, pistis is enacted in precisely such a setting of practical philosophy and moral perfection (§6.4.1). Moreover, the practice of a mimetic chain of faith is also evident from the Pauline epistles (§6.4.2), with different human models functioning as trusting and trustworthy intermediaries between the faithful God and the faithful believer (§6.4.3). The main address of a human attitude of pistis for Paul, of course, is Christ, who at the same time functions as an example for the virtue of pistis (§6.4.4). Whereas pistis-as-an-attitude may be aimed at God, Christ is the embodiment and model of pistis-as-a-virtue: in the final section (§6.4.5), the presence of this motive of imitation in the pistis Christou passages is brought to light.
6.2 Faith in Christ versus Faithfulness of Christ and the Key Discourse of Imitation
6.2.1 Pistis Christou and the Option of Sustained Ambiguity
Within New Testament scholarship, a very particular debate has been carrying on for decades now, related to the meaning of several variations of the expression pistis Christou in the letters of the apostle Paul.8 The discussion arises from the plurality of possible meanings, due to the ambiguity of the noun pistis and to the various possible relationships denoted by the genitive case, resulting in the most common translations of âfaith in Christâ, a so-called objective genitive, or âfaithfulness of Christâ, a so-called subjective genitive construction. Grammatically, both options are valid and possible.9 Contextually, the Pauline epistles can support both positions. Theologically, there is a lot at stake, for different interpretations offer different answers to questions such as âhow can one be made righteous?â, âis righteousness an individual or collective affair?â, and âhow human do we envision Christ to be?â10
Already in the 1850s, there was a debate on the proper translation of pistis language in the Netherlands, sparked by a Leiden dissertation by Hendrik Berlage (1856) which argued for the sense of a âJesus authored faithâ (genitivus auctoris) with God as its object.11 On another side stood the âGroningen schoolâ, which argued for a meaning of âtrust in / surrender to Christâ. The traditional âbelief in Christâ was defended against both of these positions in a monograph by theologian Jan Wernink.12 Judging from some recent contributions, the dust has still not quite settled.13 The interpretation of Pauline theology as a whole, if such a construct exists, affects the interpretation of the formula, while the same is true in the opposite direction, thus trapping the interpreter in a hermeneutical circle.14 Thus, to put it in optimistic terms, the question is how to escape this two-dimensional closed figure. I argue that in the ancient Mediterranean moral praxis of imitation, particularly as it was practised in philosophical schools, and even more specifically in the philosophical topos of assimilation to God, we find an external model that may help us to visualize the logic behind Paulâs pistis Christou formulations.15
Before I discuss these themes of imitation and assimilation, it is helpful to have a look at the linguistic presuppositions involved in the pistis Christou debate. What most contributions (in both subjective and objective positions) have in common is the wish to âdisambiguateâ the formula.16 Recently, however, there seems to be a growing awareness that it may not be a matter of either/or. One early exception to the disambiguation trend is Thomas Torrance, who published a short article in which he compares pistis and emunah terminology. He argues:
Pistis Iesou Christou (â¦) is essentially a polarized expression denoting the faithfulness of Christ as its main ingredient but also involving or at least suggesting the answering faithfulness of man, and so his belief in Christ, but even within itself the faithfulness of Christ involves both the faithfulness of God and the faithfulness of the man Jesus. (Torrance 1957, 113)17
A second name to mention is Richard Hays, who in the late nineties was responsible for putting the matter firmly on the scholarly agenda with The Faith of Jesus Christ.18 Regarding the choice between faith or faithfulness, he âchallengesâ James Dunn, a spokesperson for the âfaith in Christâ interpretation, âto show that it was semantically possible in Hellenistic Greek to make such a conceptual distinction. The single word ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï carries both connotations. Therefore, Dunnâs distinction is anachronistic, a semantic fallacy.â19 In response to him, however, Barry Matlock refers to lexical semantics and encourages us to start âthinking in terms of the contextual selection of discrete senses of wordsâ.20 Hays may indeed fall prey to yet another fallacy, namely supposing that all meanings or uses of a word apply to any given instance, James Barrâs famous âillegitimate totality transferâ.21 Indeed, Matlockâs approach, to âde-theologizeâ the debate by calling in the help of linguistics, is in this sense a fruitful one, and I fully acknowledge that language users generally understand ambiguous words by excluding the non-applying meanings based on markers in the direct context. What Matlock does not address, unfortunately, is the possibility that the ambiguity was in fact intended, or at least not intentionally excluded by Paul.
Apart from Hays, this possibility of intended ambiguity has been hinted at in passing by scholars such as Gerhard Freidrich, Daniel Lynwood Smith, Robert Jewett, and Benjamin Schliesser.22 Friedrich refers to the Kühner-Gerth grammar of classical Greek, which is helpful to quote here at length:
According to the above, the genitive only very generally expresses the relationship between two terms, and, at the same time, the grammatical categories of the possesive, objective, partitive (etc.) genitive are by no means to be clearly distinguished from one another. (â¦) It must also be admitted that not all genitives can be comfortably squeezed into the grammar scheme. (Kuhner & Gerth 1955, 334)23
In his commentary on Romans, Christopher Bryan also calls upon present-day grammarians who âin admitting such ambiguity (â¦) have in general been a good deal more forthright than the commentators.â24 Among others, he quotes Nigel Turner, who stated that âthere is no reason why a genitive in the authorâs mind may not have been both subjective and objective.â25
An excellent case for âsustained ambiguityâ on the basis of the evidence of ancient semantics is made by Gerald Downing. Downing establishes that, in ancient reflection on language, ambiguity was recognized and, in case of the Stoics, also problematized. Yet, in more general philosophical writing there is no evidence of any concern that it is necessary to distinguish meticulously between different senses of words.26 After thus surveying a range of ancient authors on the issue of language ambiguity and using these insights as a lens to read Paulâs faith(fulness) language, he concludes:
In Paulâs world, trust in someone was itself founded in, and displayed and presupposed belief in their trustworthiness (as well as, most likely, their willingness to trust you): faith in Jesus would necessarily imply (unless explicitly denied) at the least a trust in his faithfulness. Ancient expectations of words have them carry much of their semantic baggage with them, whatever part of their range appears in context to be foregrounded; that is, unless some elements of their range have been specifically discarded. (Downing 2010, 160)27
It is an important observation that trust (faith) in fact implies the trustworthiness (faithfulness) of the one in whom trust is placed. Speaking of âsemantic baggageâ may sound too much like âillegitimate totality transferââwhich is why Kevin McFadden accuses Downing of a fault similar to the one Matlock had found in Hays. McFadden, however, does not seem to acknowledge the possibility of a deliberate ambiguity, as he only mentions this option in one concessional clause: âIt is true that authors occasionally use deliberate ambiguity in their language, but typically âcontext serves to eliminate multiple meaningsâ.â28 The question is whether the context does so in the cases at hand.
Taking a fresh approach to early Christian texts from the perspective of the âshape of trustâ in the Graeco-Roman society, Teresa Morgan arrives at a similar understanding of pistis Christou as âdoubly reciprocalâ:
It is precisely the fact that Christ is both faithful to God and worthy of Godâs trust, trustworthy by human beings and trusted by them, that enables him to take those who pisteuein into righteousness (and human beings, in turn, to spread the word to others). (Morgan 2015, 273â274)
To take any one of these two or even four dimensions away, then, would do a major injustice to the core message of the apostle.29
If it is indeed plausible that Paul exploits this ambiguity in his pistis Christou formulations, based on ancient semantic theory and actual language use of the pistis (and fides) word group in Paulâs time, it is helpful to understand how this ambiguity plays out if we were to imagine its âenactmentâ. One of the many merits of the renewed philosophical attention to Paul is the understanding of faith as a performative utterance, as elucidated by Giorgio Agamben: it âimmediately produces a real factâ.30 Yet what is the underlying reality or materiality, the associative backgroundâor, in terms of cognitive linguistics, the âframeââof pistis Christou? Hays explicitly lists as an area that requires further elaboration âthe cultural/semantic background of Paulâs ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï language: how would Paulâs uses of this terminology have been understood by his readers within the ancient Mediterranean world?â31 Downing does not offer a specific cultural embeddedness. Morgan suggests that a parallel can be found in the ancient practice of mediation, like that between the emperor Tiberius and revolting legions in Germany with the help of Germanicus, his nephew (Tacitus, Annals 1.31â52).32 Another option is offered in the form of a short observation by Peter Lampe in his survey of patronage relations in the Pauline epistles:
Because loyalty is a mutual attitude in patron-client relationships, the question whether the expression ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ ΧÏιÏÏοῦ (â¦) represents a subjective or an objective genitive might present false alternatives because it is both. (Lampe 2016, 226)
We will indeed return to this important semantic domain of political mediation and public patronage in the next chapter, although it does not seem to me to be the first context evoked by the phrase pistis Christou. While patronage and mediation offer interesting illustrations of the multivalence of and reciprocity inherent to fides language, there is a more obvious choice when looking for a cultural âhabitatâ of Paulâs pistis Christou language, because of both its day-to-day occurrence in the social context of Paulâs addressees and its frequent explicit and implicit use in the Pauline epistles, even in the direct context of the pistis Christou formula (see §6.4.5). I am referring to the practice of moral imitation.
6.2.2 A Brief Scholarly History of Pauline Imitation: Personal Example versus Authority?
With saying like âimitate me as I imitate Christâ (1 Cor 11.1) or âyou became imitators of us and of the Lordâ (1 Thes 1.6), Paul explicitly describes his project in terms of âimitationâ or, to use the Greek term, mimÄsis.33 There is an increasing amount of literature on the subject of imitation and its application within the Pauline letters. From the perspective of this study, it is remarkable that in these publications the topic of imitation in pistis is overlooked and Graeco-Roman sources are only rarely taken into account.
One of the earliest and most influential contributions, the entry in the Theological Dictionary of the New Testament by Wilhelm Michaelis (ThWNT 1942; TDNT 1968), lists three distinct uses of the verb μιμÎομαι (âto imitateâ) in the New Testament: namely, (1) simple comparison, (2) the following of Paulâs example, (3) obedience to the authority of the apostle. He downplays the importance of the first and second categories in favour of the third, including a large number of imitation-texts (such as 1 Cor 4.16, 1 Cor 11.1, 1 Thes 1.6) in this context of obedience to authority.34 With Michaelisâs division, we can already distinguish the two issues which will dominate the ensuing scholarly discussion: the relative importance of personal, moral imitation of Paul (including its relation to imitation of Christ) and the extent to which this motive is used by Paul to claim authority or power. Here, I briefly sketch these two lines of argumentation in what I intend to be a representative yet by no means exhaustive overview, in each case sticking to the chronology of publications.35
First, we have the responses to Michaelisâs downplaying of personal imitation. While endorsing Michaelisâs focus on obedience, David Stanley adds that Paulâs imitatio Christi is a âmediated imitationâ, leaning on Paul as âa concrete Vorbild, the specific examples and lessons contained in Paulâs own version of the Gospel as preached and lived by him.â36 Stanley, however, is sceptical about comparisons with Greek literature, as they âprovide no real parallels to Pauline usageâ and, moreover, âthe notion of collecting a group of disciples around his own person is so foreign to Paulâs mind that the word μαθηÏÎ®Ï is found nowhere in his epistlesâ.37 Of particular interest to my study is the work of Willis Peter de Boer, who draws heavily on both Graeco-Roman and Jewish source material to demonstrate the ubiquity of the idea of personal imitation to achieve moral growth and development of character.38 De Boer supplements Stanleyâs emphasis on mediated imitation with the observation that it is Paulâs ultimate goal that his âpupilsâ and âchildrenâ grow towards maturity, which according to De Boer implies that Christ will then be imitated directly.39 Imitating Paulâs personal example is thus only an intermediary stage.
By focusing on imitation in 1 Thessalonians, Mary Ann Getty again shows that âMichaelis and others have underestimated the importance of the imitation theme in Paulâ and furthermore demonstrates a diachronic development starting in this letter as an âincipient patternâ that becomes more prominent and gradually give more weight to imitation of Christ besides imitation of Paul and other communities.40 Focusing primarily on the âauthorityâ theme in imitation, Jo-Ann Brant notices in passing, based on her reading of Aristotle, that âjust as an object of art can teach one about beauty, Paulâs example teaches others about life in Christ.â41 Here, she nails the ontological connection I discussed in length in the context of epistemology in chapter 4, which now returns in the context of ethics: Paul is a model, but only insofar as he reflects the ultimate goodness as it was âlivedâ fully by Christ, the divine model. This scheme is will recur throughout my own discussion of Graeco-Roman sources, and it offers the key to evaluate the second issue in the scholarly debate on Pauline imitation: the power and authority behind the motive and practice of imitation.
This second issue is also raised by Michaelisâs treatment of mimÄsis and concerns Paulâs aim of subjecting his addressees to his authority. Michaelisâs emphasis on authority first led to some relativizing responses. Focusing on 1 Corinthians 4.16, Boykin Sanders asks how Paul envisions to be imitated, arguing that it we ought to understand this call as a call to stop the division caused by favouring one teacher above another; Paul presents himself by contrast as a âfatherâ that establishes a communal principle.42 Benjamin Fiore, who writes on imitation in the Socratic and Pastoral Epistles, devotes a chapter to Paul in which he argues vehemently against Michaelis.43 Fiore is reluctant to see a call to imitation as bluntly exerting authority, whereas he does leave ample room for âsimple comparisonâ. Adele Reinhartz delves further into the power relations inherent to imitation and addresses the question whether Paulâs appeal to imitate him does not render him at best immodest and at worst hypocritical. Her analysis brings together Paulâs attitude of humility and his superiority as expressed in his call to imitate him: both are responses to Paulâs opponents, âincluding possibly other apostlesâ.44 Abraham Malherbe compares Paulâs imitation language with that of contemporary philosophers and argues that Paul was far less hesitant to call for following his own example. However, in contrast to the Stoics it was not his own merit but the strength he received from God that made him a suitable model.45
Less commendable yet nonetheless very important to the ensuing debate is the picture painted by Elizabeth Castelli in her monograph Imitating Paul: A Discourse of Power (1991). She defends the thesis that Paul is solidifying his position of power by making use of the hierarchical and unifying tendencies that determine ancient imitational structures.46 From this Foucauldian deconstructionist perspective, an appeal to divine strength is obviously the ultimate power play. Yet, Castelli seems to depend on modern presuppositions about what power looks like, while neglecting evidence from ancient honorific culture. While nowhere directly responding to Castelli, Jo-Ann Brant agrees with Reinhartz that there is an intrinsic logic behind Paulâs simultaneously authoritative and humble call to imitation and refers to Aristotle to demonstrate that this logic is in fact embedded in the idea of imitation:
The actor is not the creator of the form; he or she is the agent who exercises his or her abilities in order to reproduce that order in a concrete form. (â¦) By adhering to external authority, the actions of the agents are more powerful than any actions which they can conceive on the basis of their own determination. (Brant 1993, 298)
Thus, according to Brantâs analysis of the internal structure of mimÄsis, Paul is not exercising power over passive followers, but allowing his followers to share in his creative power to rise above their own possibilities. A careful reading of the context of all relevant imitation passages by Andrew Clarke is also meant to establish that the motivation of Paul is ultimately non-egoistic since he always points beyond himself to Christ and emphasizes the need that believers become examples themselves.47 This complete denial of the influence of power, however, seems somewhat artificial.
In his comprehensive monograph (1999) on Paulâs use of imitation as an explicit and implicit literary strategy, Brian Dodd aims to overcome the dichotomy between imitation as (soft) pedagogical technique and as (strong) assertion of authority.48 He further emphasizes the diversity in Paulâs self-portrayal, depending on each letterâs situation, and posits a strong correlation between Paulâs epistolary and real-life example.49 Doddâs balanced approach offers a decisive critique of the one-sidedness of Castelliâs sociological reductionism, a critique that is further developed in Victor Copanâs interdisciplinary research on imitation and Paulâs aim of spiritual guidance: to this noble end, the use of power is helpful and culturally accepted.50 Copan is also exemplary in involving an analysis of Graeco-Roman imitation along different lines of parent-child, leader-people, teacher-student, and divine-human: in this chapter only the latter two will be addressed since these contexts render the most promising occurrences of pistis in the semantic domain of ethics, leaving the parent-child and leader-people perspectives to the discussion of pistisâs social potential in chapters 7 and 8.51 Finally, there are two more contributions arguing directly against Castelli. Dustin Ellington inveighs against Castelliâs interpretation that Paulâs imitation command âhas no specified contentâ, whereas he sees a rich content in âthe pattern of Christâs death for othersâ.52 And Drake Williams brought the evidence of Paulâs contemporary Ignatius of Antioch to the fore, who interprets the imitation motive in Paul in terms of suffering instead of power and authority.53
All in all, there is no use denying that in any relationship of imitation, power and authority play a part. The question is which part in what âplayâ.54 My analysis in this chapter takes as its âstageâ moral imitation in Graeco-Roman philosophy, according to which we will see that teachers and school founders are authorities insofar as they mirror the divine ideal Äthos. Furthermore, by comparing Paul to this discourse, the most remarkable feature of the Christian âplayâ will appear to be the converse script of a paradigm (Christ, but also Paul) taking on the suffering position of the image (man), in order that that image can become like the paradigm.
6.2.3 Enacting Pistis Christou on the Graeco-Roman Stage of Moral Imitation
To sum up, we have seen how ample attention has been given to the motive of imitation in the Pauline epistles and how scholars agree that it is important, also in terms of personal Nachfolgung of Paul. Yet, imitation of Paul always implies imitation of Christ, such that Paulâs authority is that of an earthly model referring to the divine model. These themes will also recur in my own discussion of Pauline texts in §6.4. This subject of imitation, however, is scarcely taken into account in interpreting Pauline pistis in general and in the pistis Christou debate in particular. In pointing out the presence of pistis in ancient discourses on imitation (of both human and divine models), it may be possible to contribute to the intricacies of the pistis Christou debate.
The motive of imitation is not completely alien to this debate. Here, it usually belongs to the terminology of those arguing for a âfaith(fulness) of Christâ interpretation: it is Christâs faith(fulness) in/to God that believers imitate.55 Conversely, a mimetic explanation is oftentimes discarded by the opposite position for being too ethical, too horizontal, for expecting too little of Gods saving act and too much of the human response.56 However, in her 2016 article, following up on her earlier contributions, Morna Hooker explicitly combines a stance on pistis Christou being purposefully ambiguous with the model of imitation: âThe lexicaâs different definitions reflect what is in fact a hen-and-egg situation. Our trust/faith is founded in the trustworthiness/faithfulness of God, but those who trust in him become like him, trustworthy in their turn.â57 Like others, Hooker is uncomfortable with the connotations of the word âimitationâ, proposing to speak of âparticipationâ, âconformityâ, or âsharing in what Christ isâ instead.58 While the wish to avoid unhelpful modern connotations is quite understandable, this should not make us blind to the ubiquitous presence of imitation in ancient societies. It is unfortunate that, even though the model of imitation as such is sometimes mentioned in relation to Paulâs usage of pistis Christou, the model is, to my knowledge, solely used as an exegetical tool within the Pauline corpus, leaving aside the extensive resource of contemporary pagan material.
In early Christian interpretations of Paul, pistis appears to have been closely aligned with imitation of Christ (and even of God). Less than a century after the writing of Paulâs letters, Polycarp writes a letter to encourage the Philippians:
Stand fast therefore in these things and follow the example of the Lord (domini exemplar sequimini), being firm in faith and immovable (firmi in fide et immutabiles), in love of the brotherhood kindly affectioned one to another. (Polycarp, Letter to the Philippians 10.1)59
When it comes to imitation of Jesus, Polycarp first specifies this as being âfirm in faithâ. Roughly two hundred years after Paul, Clement of Alexandria brings together the Platonic ideal of homoiÅsis theÅi (see §6.3.4â5 below) and Paulâs âmimetic chainâ (see §6.4.3 below) by calling assimilation to God the âaim of faithâ:
And openly and expressly the apostle, in the first Epistle to the Corinthians, says, âBe ye followers of me, as also I am of Christ,â in order that that may take place. If ye are of me, and I am of Christ, then ye are imitators of Christ, and Christ of God. Assimilation to God, then, so that as far as possible a man becomes righteous and holy with wisdom, he lays down as the aim of faith, and the end to be that restitution of the promise which is effected by faith. (Clement of Alexandria, Miscellanies 2.22.136)60
With this synthesis, Clement places Paulâs imitation language squarely in the Platonic discourse of âassimilation to Godâ. Moreover, this topic comes up in a discussion of what pistis is: according to Clement, Platoâs homoiÅsis theÅi is in fact the âaim of faithâ. These patristic witnesses give us ample reason to delve deeper into moral imitation and divine assimilation in order to determine if Paulâs pistis language is indeed participating in these discourses.
In this chapter, I aim to contribute to this discussion by combining the themes of pistis and imitation via their employment in Graeco-Roman thought. More precisely, I have chosen to use the more specific discourse of moral imitation, to which this chapter now turns, alongside the relevant sub-discourses of philosophical practice and teaching (§6.3.2â3) and imitating (or rather âbecoming likeâ) God (§6.3.4â5).
6.3 Character Formation and Philosophical Imitation: Ethical Usage of Pistis in Graeco-Roman Discourses
In this section, I take a closer look at the ancient discourses related to moral imitation. That imitation in Paul has to do with ethics and not also, as for instance in Philo, with the realms of aesthetics or nature has been adequately covered in Karl Morrisonâs survey, The Mimetic Tradition of Reform in the West.61 The reason for delineating this specific discourse is, as in the other chapters, a matter of decisions made en route. In early surveys of Epictetusâs and Plutarchâs works, I found multiple relevant instances of pistis/fides and cognates in the context of moral imitation and education, which made me continue on this track and include key lemmata such as Äthos, aretÄ, and mimÄsis/mimÄtai/mimeomai, homoiÅsis/homoioÅ, typos, paradeigma (and in Latin: mores, imitatio/imitare, exemplum) in the TLG/LLT searches. This way, I found even more examples in the context of the âeducation for lifeâ that was offered by philosophical schools (§6.3.2â3). Delving deeper into the theoretical frame of thought behind this practice, the particular topos of imitation of the ultimate example personified in the gods (§6.3.4â5) was laid bare.
Notwithstanding these considerations, there are important contexts of imitation left unexplored in this chapter. An important case has been made by James Harrison for âthe public context of imitation in civic lifeâ in an article which comprises the evidence of not only literary but also documentary and visual sources.62 He begins his article by stating that the real-life imitation of someone elseâs character has received relatively little scholarly attention among classicists and New Testament scholars, as compared to the attention for the ancient theoretical debate on mimÄsis in aesthetics.63 Harrisonâs comparison of Pauline and pagan mimÄsis language leads to a portrayal of the apostle vis-aÌ-vis the ancient âgreat manâ as an anti-rhetorician and anti-imperialist.64 In the next chapter, I will address these social implications of Paulâs gospel of pistis, arguing for a more subtle contrast in terms of a âmaking creative use ofâ and a âreconfiguringâ instead of in terms of a radical âreversalâ or âinversionâ of ancient honour culture and imperial ideology.65
6.3.1 Pistis/Fides as Relational Attitude and Dispositional Quality in Moral Imitation
From the statues in the theatres to tablets with copying exercises, and from honorary inscriptions at the forum to literary rivalry, the whole social sphere of the early Roman empire breathed the air of moral imitation.66 In the familial context, children were expected to mimic their parentsâ and ancestorsâ civic virtues, while abstaining from their vices.67 While some virtues were reserved for talented offspring only, the virtue of pistis/fides was among those which were considered to be in everyoneâs reach. Cicero indicates that not every child is capable of imitating every parental virtue such as speaking eloquently or conducting wars, yet as general virtues he lists iustitia, fides, liberalitas, modestia, and temperantia.68 Moreover, as we saw in chapter 3, fides is listed in the subcategory of virtues that are beneficial to the human race, so that in the end these are not for the good of the imitator alone, but for the good of all. Imitation of virtues such as fides (âfaithâ, âfaithfulnessâ, or âgood faithâ) was therefore a matter of common benefit.69
Imitation was the foundation of the Roman system of education as well. Anyone who had the benefit of receiving some form of education would start by closely following the forms of characters written by their teachers and proceed to the rhythms of poetry, the rules of rhetoric, and the literary patterns laid out by model poets, orators, and philosophers.70 Yet even in this educational context, imitation also included the aspect of character formation, for by imitating literary examples students achieved likeness (homoiotÄs) to both the style of the author and the moral characteristics of the exemplary subject matter. Within literary genres such as rhetoric, biography, and historiography, virtues were demonstrated by using exempla from mythology or national history.71 The teacherâs role, however, was seen as the ultimate moral paradigm, a âliving voiceâ in front of the students.72
In literary exempla, pistis (or fides) recurs as one of the qualities worthy of imitation. Quintilian is proud of Romeâs past filled with ideal examples:
But it is not only the content of such studies as these which we should know and constantly turn over in our minds; even more important are the records of the notable sayings and actions of the past. Nowhere is there a larger or more striking supply of these than in the history of our own country. Could there be any better teachers of courage, justice, loyalty (fidem), self-control, frugality, or contempt for pain and death than men like Fabricius, Curius, Regulus, Decius, Mucius, and countless others? Rome is as strong in examples as Greece is in precepts (praeceptis valent); and examples are more important. (Quintilian, The Oratorâs Education 12.2.29â30)
Quintilian argues that oratory and philosophy, eloquence and virtue go hand in hand and that both need precepts and even more examples.73 These examples are meant to âconstantly turn over in our mindsâ; we are to, as the following sentence states, âdrink deep draughts of justice from this sourceâ for without it, we cannot live âthe good liveâ or ârun honourâs raceâ, nor can we hope of becoming a good orator. Offering moral examples from the lives of famous historical men seems to have been the primary motivation for authors such as Plutarch and Valerius Maximus to write whole collections of biographies (the Parallel Lives) or, in the latterâs case, âmemorable deeds and sayingsâ (facta et dicta memorabilia).74
We already saw in chapter 3 how pistis and fides function as virtues of statesmen and even of the state itself (esp. §3.3.1). As an important virtue of the ruler, it actively or passively provides a model for subjects to imitate.75 The ruler as ultimate example of virtue, or as nomos empsychos, was a familiar motif, and it was commonly thought that the Äthos of the ruler affects the citizenâs morality for better or worse (see §3.3.6 above).76 Plutarch, for example, advises the âuneducated rulerâ to âfirst gain command of himself, (â¦) regulate his own soul and establish his own character (καÏαÏÏηÏάμενον Ïὸ ἦθοÏ), then make his subjects fit his pattern (οá½ÏÏ ÏÏ Î½Î±ÏμόÏÏειν Ïὸ á½Ïήκοον).â77 Pyrrhus of Epirus, however, was an example of unfaithfulness, yet also this vice was imitated by hoi polloi:
Whence we see that kings have no reason to find fault with popular bodies for changing sides as suits their interests; for in doing this they are but imitating the kings themselves (αá½ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ ÏαῦÏα μιμοῦνÏαι), who are their teachers in unfaithfulness and treachery (á¼ÏιÏÏá½·Î±Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ ÏÏοδοÏá½·Î±Ï Î´Î¹Î´Î±ÏÎºá½±Î»Î¿Ï Ï á½Î½ÏαÏ), and think him most advantaged who least observes justice (Ïὸν á¼Î»á½±ÏιÏÏα Ïá¿· δικαίῳ ÏÏώμενον). (Plutarch, Pyrrhus 12.7)
Pyrrhus is here said to have been influential in offering a model of apistia, faithlessness, to the people. Another thing to take note of in this text is that language of teaching and language of imitation coincide, for whether in faithfulness or unfaithfulness, kings function as both teachers and models.
Yet, faith or trust is not only a virtue to be imitated, it is also an attitude towards models. It is the proper response or attitude of the people towards the trustworthiness that is inherent to the rulerâs justice.78 Conversely, distrust is the proper attitude towards kings and people that do not exhibit exemplary virtues. A cynic staged by Epictetus points at examples of vice to make clear that his public is looking for happiness in all the wrong places:
It is not in possessions. If you donât believe (εἰ δ᾿ á¼ÏιÏÏεá¿Ïε), look at Croesus, look at the rich nowadays, the amount of lamentation with which their life is filled! (â¦) Whom are we going to trust about this question (Ïá½·Ïιν ÏεÏὶ ÏούÏÎ¿Ï ÏιÏÏεύÏομεν)? (Epictetus, Discourses 3.22.27â28)
Here, people are asked to relate to negative examples, in order to determine where to place their attitude of trust in order to lead a good life. The first usage of pistis language (á¼ÏιÏÏεá¿Ïε) concerns whether or not an argument is convincing (cf. chapter 5); the second (ÏιÏÏεύÏομεν) implies trust in a moral example, trust in one worthy to be imitated. The Delphic maxims also contain such general warnings about wrongly placed trust: âdo not trust wealthâ (Î ÎÎΥΤΩ ÎÎ ÎΣΤÎÎ), âdo not trust fortuneâ (ΤΥΧΠÎÎ Î ÎΣΤÎÎ¥Î).79 The virtue of âfaithfulnessâ thus depends on the ability to invest oneâs âtrustâ the right objects and models.
In the speeches of Epictetus (written down by his student Arrian) we encounter a philosopher educating a broad audience on the proper way of life, a genre in which positive and negative mythical or historical examples were the ideal rhetorical tool.80 More specifically, with the teachings of Epictetus, we have arrived at a somewhat distinct cultural context in which âimitation in faithâ is especially evident and relevant to our purposes: the context of philosophical education. Before I engage with this specific context, however, it is possible to conclude that character formation was considered of utmost importance in the whole educational and cultural sphere and that pistis / fides functions in this context both as a dispositional quality, suitable for imitation, and as a relational attitude towards the model or another object worthy of oneâs trust, whereas the opposite (apistia) represents either a quality to be avoided or the proper attitude towards unfit models.
6.3.2 The Pistis of the Pudding:81 Practising Faithfulness in Hellenistic-Roman Schools
The semantic domain of pistis and Äthos is closely connected to the core business of the philosophical enterprise per se: the practice of philosophy in antiquity can perhaps be captured by the phrase âpractise what you preachâ or âwalk your talkâ. Some brief quotes from different philosophical traditions and authors may serve as illustrations. Two Platonic dialogues are set in a palaestra (from ÏαλαίÏ, âto wrestleâ), evidencing the development of philosophy from public display to private training program.82 The Platonic Academy itself is the classic example of how philosophy and physical exercise coincided and merged. Aristotle stated this principle in terms of pistis: âin matters of emotion and of action, words are less convincing/trustworthy than deeds (λÏγοι ἧÏÏÏν εἰÏι ÏιÏÏοὶ Ïῶν á¼ÏγÏν)â.83
Since philosophy is considered to be an art (technÄ), Epicurus urges a student and friend that it must be practised by day and by night.84 According to the first century Stoic Musonius Rufus, âvirtue is knowledge (á¼ÏιÏÏήμη) that is not merely theoretical, but also practical (ÏÏακÏικὲ) like the arts of medicine or music.â85 Hence, since philosophy is the greater art, âpractical training must follow invariablyâ (Ïὴν á¼ÏκηÏιν á¼ÏÎ±ÎºÎ¿Î»Î¿Ï Î¸Îµá¿Î½ ÏάνÏÏÏ), even more than in the study of medicine.86 According to Musoniusâs contemporary and fellow-Stoic Seneca, philosophy thus stands in opposition to amusement: âphilosophy is no trick to catch the public; it is not devised for show. It is a matter, not of words, but of factsâ (Non in verbis, sed in rebus est).87 Epictetus, Musoniusâs most famous student, draws a contrast between philosophers and grammarians:
If, however, I admire the mere act of interpretation, what have I done but turned into a grammarian instead of a philosopher (Ïá½· á¼Î»Î»Î¿ á¼¢ γÏαμμαÏÎ¹Îºá½¸Ï á¼ÏεÏελέÏθην á¼Î½Ïὶ ÏιλοÏá½¹ÏÎ¿Ï )? The only difference, indeed, is that I interpret Chrysippus instead of Homer. Far from being proud, therefore, when somebody says to me, âRead me Chrysippus,â I blush rather, when I am unable to show him such deeds as match and harmonize with his words (á½ Ïαν μὴ δύνÏμαι ὠμοια Ïá½° á¼Ïγα καὶ ÏύμÏÏνα á¼Ïιδεικνύειν Ïοá¿Ï λόγοιÏ). (Epictetus, Encheiridion 49)
In other words, Epictetus would probably not consider the modern academic discipline of philosophy âphilosophy properâ. Thus, in short, when we speak of philosophical schools, we are not merely speaking about institutions of knowledge, but about schools of life: places of practical education by means of mental training.
Within this discourse of philosophy as a life-changing discipline, a recurring topos is the imagery of athletic training. Seneca states it in the following terms:
So let us also win the way to victory in all our struggles,âfor the reward is not a garland or a palm or a trumpeter who calls for silence at the proclamation of our names, but rather virtue, steadfastness of soul, and a peace that is won for all time. (Seneca, Epistles 78.16)88
The ultimate goal of all this training is a victory in the form of the attainment of virtue and stability of soul, in other words, the attainment of sagehood. Making use of similar imagery, Epictetus compares walking the difficult road to virtue with wrestling a young wrestling partner whereby God is the trainer:
When a difficulty befalls, remember that God, like a physical trainer, has matched you with a rugged young man. (â¦) if only you are willing to make use of it as an athlete makes use of a young man to wrestle with. (Epictetus, Discourses 1.24.1â2)
Later in this chapter, Paulâs usage of the same athletic metaphor will be discussed (§6.4.2).
The insight that Hellenistic-Roman philosophy took the form of an intellectual-ethical training for living well has been brought to our attention in present-day academic circles by Pierre Hadot (1995: Philosophy as a Way of Life, esp. chapter 11) and is investigated and scrutinized further by John Sellars (2003: The Art of Living: the Stoics on the Nature and Function of Philosophy). Sellars describes the ancient understanding of philosophy as an art (technÄ), encompassing both rational principles (logoi) and practical exercise (askÄsis) with the aim (telos) to produce corresponding actions (erga): âWith this conception, philosophical knowledge (á¼ÏιÏÏήμη) will directly impact upon oneâs life (βίοÏ) because such knowledge will necessarily lead to philosophical actions (á¼Ïγα).â89 As John Cooper has shown, this âlivedâ form of philosophy goes back to Socrates himself, for whom âliving oneâs philosophy meant living on the basis of a philosophically grounded conception of justice, piety, temperance, and courage as fundamental goods for a human being.â90 Albrecht Dihle emphasizes that, even though the early Socratic tradition had a âconnection with a philosophical lifestyleâ, this focus came even more to the fore in post-classical times: âThe Platonic-Aristotelean conception (â¦) narrowed down to the endeavours that were directly applicable to day-to-day living.â91 In his monograph on philosophers in the Roman Empire, Michael Trapp states that philosophy as such could demand sacrifices: âPhilosophy, taken as seriously as it showed itself to want to be taken, posed an evangelical challenge, to life-changing commitment of a kind that could make awkward demands on the individual; in particular, it could demand the adoption of values and targets at odds with whose of ordinary civic society.â92 Philosophy in Hellenistic and Roman times was thus very much seen as a divergent lifestyle, cultivated by practising virtues.
It is interesting that especially within this philosophical community of alternative values, the process of character formation includes the attainment of a trustworthy disposition, oftentimes expressed in terms of pistis or fides, as sources from diverse traditions confirm. In the Platonic letter that was quoted in full in the previous chapter (§5.3.2), Aristodorus was praised for showing âthe most philosophic disposition of all who pursue philosophyâ (Ïὸ ÏοÏá½½ÏαÏον á¼¦Î¸Î¿Ï Ïῶν Îµá¼°Ï ÏιλοÏοÏίαν ÏαÏεÏόμενον). This philosophical disposition is explicated as consisting in âthe steadfast and trustworthy and soundâ (Ïὸ Î³á½°Ï Î²Îβαιον καὶ ÏιÏÏὸν καὶ á½Î³Î¹ÎÏ).93 Similar accounts can be found in the Epicurean and Stoic traditions. In the previous chapter, we showed that both Epicurus and Cicero saw the development of a firm conviction (pistis) or confidence (fidentia) as the goal of philosophy.94 The Stoic Epictetus is most consistent in including pistis in his list of virtues (see also §5.3.6 and §6.3.1). Attaining virtue is thought of in terms of âhelpâ or âsalvationâ versus âdestructionâ:
For it is within you that both destruction and deliverance (καὶ á¼Ïώλεια καὶ βοήθεια) lie.âBut what good do I get after all that (Ïá½· μοι á¼Î³Î±Î¸á½¹Î½)?âAnd what greater good than this are you looking for? Instead of shameless, you will be self-respecting; instead of faithless, faithful (á¼Î¾ á¼Ïá½·ÏÏÎ¿Ï ÏιÏÏá½¹Ï); instead of dissolute, self-controlled (á¼Î¾ á¼ÎºÎ¿Î»á½±ÏÏÎ¿Ï Ïá½½ÏÏÏν). If you are looking for anything else greater than these things, go ahead and do what you are doing; not even a god can any longer save you (οá½Î´á½² θεῶν Ïá½³ ÏÎ¹Ï á¼Ïι ÏῶÏαι δύναÏαι). (Epictetus, Discourses 4.9.17)
The ultimate good for this Stoic is thus found internally, in self-improvement. To attain this goal, the imagery of training is frequently called upon. Epictetus uses the example of a grammarian: if a grammarian is in the habit (á¼Î¸Î¯Ïá¿) of writing ungrammatically, his art (ÏÎÏνη) will perish. Likewise, according to Epictetus,
modest acts preserve the modest man, whereas immodest acts destroy him (Ïὸν μὲν αἰδήμονα Ïῴζει Ïá½° αἰδήμονα á¼Ïγα); and faithful acts preserve the faithful man while acts of the opposite character destroy him (Ïὸν δὲ ÏιÏÏὸν Ïá½° ÏιÏÏá½° καὶ Ïá½° á¼Î½Î±Î½Ïία á¼ÏολλÏει). And again, acts of the opposite character strengthen men of the opposite character; shamelessness strengthens the shameless man, faithlessness the faithless (Ïὸν á¼ÏιÏÏον <á¼ÏιÏÏία>), (â¦) That is why the philosophers admonish us not to be satisfied with merely learning, but to add thereto practice also, and then training (μὴ á¼Ïκεá¿Ïθαι μÏνῳ Ïá¿· μαθεá¿Î½, á¼Î»Î»á½° καὶ μελÎÏην ÏÏοÏλαμβάνειν, εἶÏα á¼ÏκηÏιν). (Epictetus, Discourses 2.9.11â14)
Pistis vocabulary thus belongs within this semantic domain of philosophical training as one of the virtues to strive towards: to perform faithful actions is to build a faithful character.
6.3.3 Imitation in and through Pistis: the Mimetic Chain of Philosophical Education
To attain this philosophical goal of character transformation, described among others in terms of pistis, the ancients did not only deem practice and exercise essential, but also the imitation of examples. The importance of the leaders practising what they preach can also be understood from their function as their disciplesâ role models. Crucial in the process of philosophical education was the idea of imitation: the supposition was that the desired Äthos could best be achieved by mimicking anotherâs. This will be the topic of this section, where I include references to that type of imitation that is conceptually related to the semantic domain of philosophical character formation, i.e. between the diverse layers of pupil, master, school founder, and, in the subsequent sections, sages and God (§6.3.4 and §6.3.5), with special attention to the role of pistis and cognates in imitation.
Given the fact that this cultivation of the right disposition is so important, it is not surprising that the merits of a specific philosophical school can be measured by the lives of its teachers, sages, and founders.95 Their Äthos proves their trustworthiness. While comparing the behavioural merits of Epicureans, Peripatetics, and Stoics, Epictetus challenges his public: âshow me a man fashioned according to the dogmas which he utters.â96 Similarly, in an ironical portrait of an orator who thinks he is doing well because of the flattery of his disciples, he points out what an earnest searcher should be looking for: someone âwho will teach him how he ought to live (Ïá¿¶Ï Î´Îµá¿ Î²Î¹Î¿á¿¦Î½)â, who is ârespectful (αἰδήμÏν), faithful (ÏιÏÏá½¹Ï), and unperturbed (á¼Ïá½±ÏαÏοÏ).â97 Others schools are criticized for the lack of congruity between words and deeds. The manner of oneâs death was deemed especially informative. Cicero is all too happy to cite Epicurusâs last words: âto prove to you the discrepancy between his practice and his principlesâ (ut intellegas facta eius cum dictis discrepare).98 Hence, the consistency of life and learning is the quality par excellence upon which philosophers ought to be judged. And particularly to this end, the attainment of a trustworthy disposition was deemed essential.99
Within this practical philosophical context, the relationship between model and image, example and imitator played an essential part. In the final paragraph of one of his Epistles, the Roman politician and Stoic philosopher Seneca quotesâas oftenâa precept by Epicurus, commenting:
Choose a master whose life, conversation, and mind-expressing face (vita et oratio et ipse animum ante se ferens vultus) have satisfied you; picture him always to yourself as your protector or your pattern (illum tibi semper ostende vel custodem vel exemplum). For we must indeed have someone according to whom we may regulate our characters (aliquo ad quem mores nostri se ipsi exigent). (Seneca, Epistles 11.8â10)
The master Seneca refers to, so it seems here, need not necessarily be someone you meet regularly or even someone you know personally, though intimate knowledge of his life and mind is very necessary. On the one hand, as he confirms in another epistle, philosophers such as Socrates and Plato, Zeno and Cleanthes function as teachers of the whole human race and should therefore be worshipped with divine ritual, celebrating their birthdays and erecting statues.100 Yet, on the other hand, Seneca believes that the real-life transmission between master and student is fundamental, as we learn from a letter on âsharing knowledgeâ:
Of course, however, the living voice and the intimacy of a common life (viva vox et convictus) will help you more than the written word. You must go to the scene of action, first, because men put more faith in their eyes than in their ears (quia homines amplius oculis quam auribus credunt), and second, because the way is long if one follows precepts (per praecepta), but short and helpful, if one follows patterns (per exempla). Cleanthes could not have been the express image of Zeno (Zenonem Cleanthes non expressisset), if he had merely heard his lectures; he shared in his life, saw into his hidden purposes, and watched him to see whether he lived according to his own rules. Plato, Aristotle, and the whole throng of sages who were destined to go each his different way, derived more benefit from the character than from the words (plus ex moribus quam ex verbis) of Socrates. It was not the classroom of Epicurus, but living together under the same roof, that made great men of Metrodorus, Hermarchus, and Polyaenus. (Seneca, Epistles 6.5â6)
With this rich list of examples, Seneca confirms that transformation of character is the aim of philosophy. Just like Quintilian, to this aim he favours examples above precepts: the sharing of lives proves indispensable, for ordinary people at least.101 This passage furthermore shows that the philosophical quest does not merely involve imaginary relationships of imitation, but real-life Nachfolgung of school leaders. These living embodiments of good character are better equipped to create the attitude of trust or belief (credere), for they can be seen rather than merely heard.
Epictetus formulates the aim of a philosophical teacher thus, in an address to a student:
to make of you a perfect work, secure against restraint, compulsion, and hindrance, free, prosperous, happy, looking to God in everything both small and great; and you are here with the purpose of learning and practising all this. (Epictetus, Discourses 2.19.29)
Even though, according to his own Stoic doctrine, this ought to be an attainable aimâit is not outside of our controlâhe wonders why the student in question does not succeed. He deems this both the studentâs and the teacherâs fault, as can be expected in a relationship of imitation.102
An even more emphatic, if satirical, insiderâs perspective into the mind of the student is given in Lucianâs Nigrinus, when the protagonist compares his state of newly found philosophical bliss with that of infatuated lovers:
So I, too, in the absence of my mistress Philosophy, get no little comfort out of gathering together the words that I then heard and turning them over to myself. In short, I fix my gaze on that man as if he were a lighthouse and I were adrift at sea in the dead of night, fancying him by me whenever I do anything and always hearing him repeat his former words. Sometimes, especially when I put pressure on my soul, his face appears to me and the sound of his voice abides in my ears. (Lucian, Nigrinus 7)103
While this is obviously an overstatement, it echoes the personal and emotionally affective nature of a master-student relationship within the context of philosophical education.
The process of imitating a master whom you know personally is continued when the student, in turn, becomes the exemplar. This is aptly phrased in the letter of comfort sent by the Neoplatonic philosopher Porphyry to his wife Marcella, a source dating from considerable later than our main period of interest (first century bcâsecond century ad), yet whose language indicates how pistis became more and more embedded in the conceptual field of philosophical imitation. Porphyry reminds her of the words spoken at her initiation into âtrue philosophyâ and counsels to act upon these words. For, so he writes,
it is a manâs actions that naturally afford demonstrations of his opinions, and whoever holds a belief (á½ ÏÏÎ¹Ï á¼ÏίÏÏÎµÏ Ïεν) must live in accordance with it, in order that he may himself be a faithful witness (ÏιÏÏÏÏ Î¼Î¬ÏÏÏ Ï) to his disciples of his words. (Porphyry, Letter to Marcella 8)
Having trust or, put more cognitively, a belief in something should change a masterâs behaviour, which in turn shows trustworthiness towards students. Thus, a âchain of imitationsâ emerges, with pistis functioning as both quality of the links and relationship between different links. The trustworthiness or credibility of the model (its disposition) should generate trust or credence in the imitators (an attitude), who ought to become trustworthy (qua disposition) themselves. According to a variety of philosophical traditions, a place was reserved for the gods at the origin of such a chain.
6.3.4 HomoiÅsis SophÅi and TheÅi: Platonists, Stoics, and Epicureans on Assimilation to the Divine
Before we turn to Paul and his pistis Christou language, there is one even more specific philosophical topos to discuss in this section and the next, which increases the relevance of this philosophical context just discussed. According to the majority of philosophical schools in the days of Paul, it was not only in the imitation of school leaders that this trustworthy disposition could be attained; ultimately, the goal of ethics was to become like, or assimilate to, the divine nature.
This ideal of âassimilation to the divineâ or âbecoming like Godâ (á½Î¼Î¿Î¯ÏÏÎ¹Ï Îεῷ) is a motive that is embedded throughout the Platonic oeuvre in the contexts of physics, epistemology, and ethics.104 In his emphasis on moral instead of martial divine qualities, Platoâs ideal of assimilation to God can be considered âa way to philosophically redescribeâor if you will, demythologizeâthe old heroic ideal of deifying virtue.â105 After Plato, it was embraced by a large range of philosophical traditions including Stoics and Epicureans, with some different emphases, as the sources I will discuss below confirm.106 Still, it was not until fairly recent that this pattern of âbecoming like the godsâ gained a considerable amount of scholarly attention.107
The early Stoics already internalized and âcognitivizedâ the relationship with the gods by redefining the condition of being the godsâ friend or enemy in terms of âharmonyâ (ÏÏ Î¼ÏÏνία) or âoneness of mindâ (á½Î¼Ïνοια) versus âdisharmonyâ (á¼ÏÏ Î¼ÏÏνία) or âtwo-mindednessâ (διÏÏνοια), respectively.108 According to Epictetus, Zeno had formulated the âchief doctrine of the philosophersâ in this manner: âTo follow the gods is manâs end (Ïá½³Î»Î¿Ï á¼ÏÏὶ Ïὸ á¼ÏεÏθαι θεοá¿Ï), and the essence of good is the proper use of external impressions.â109 Epicurus writes that the gods âare always favourable to their own good qualities (Ïαá¿Ï Î³á½°Ï á¼°Î´Î¯Î±Î¹Ï Î¿á¼°ÎºÎµÎ¹Î¿Ïμενοι διὰ ÏανÏá½¸Ï á¼ÏεÏαá¿Ï) and take pleasure in men like themselves (ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ á½Î¼Î¿Î¯Î¿Ï Ï á¼ÏοδÎÏονÏαι), but reject as alien whatever is not of their kind.â110 The expression that homoiÅsis theÅi is the telos of ethics seems to occur for the first time in the early imperialistic period in a text by the Stoic Arius Didymus, in which he seems to rely on the Platonist Eudorus.111 According to Didymus, Plato and Socrates followed Pythagoras in this teaching,112 but Plato added the disclaimer that we can only resemble God âso far as possibleâ.113 The idea that to imitate God is the goal of ethics is taken over by later authors such as Alcinous and Diogenes Laertius, which suggests that it was widely known in the imperial period.
In the literature on the topos of homoiÅsis theÅi, two apparent differences between schools stand out, which are helpful to eventually situate Paulâs conceptions in this field. The main apples of discord seem to be related to the amount of dissimilarity between divinity and humanity and, somewhat related, to the usefulness of following human examples.
In the Platonist outlook, the process of assimilating to God may be understood in terms of a transcendent movement beyond earthly standards. In the Theaetetus, Socrates states that evil, as a necessary opposite of the good, will always âhover about moral nature and this placeâ, and he continues:
Therefore we ought to try to escape from earth to the dwelling of the gods as quickly as we can; and to escape is to become like God (ÏÏ Î³á½´ δὲ á½Î¼Î¿á½·ÏÏÎ¹Ï Î¸Îµá¿· καÏá½° Ïὸ Î´Ï Î½Î±Ïόν), so far as this is possible; and to become like God is to become righteous and holy and wise (á½Î¼Î¿á½·ÏÏÎ¹Ï Î´á½² δίκαιον καὶ á½ Ïιον μεÏá½° ÏÏονήÏεÏÏ Î³ÎµÎ½á½³Ïθαι). (Plato, Theaetetus 176aâb)
The assimilation process is on the one hand pictured as a âflightâ, yet on the other explicated in terms of humanly attainable virtues. In the Laws, homoiÅsis theÅi is explicitly set against the Protagorean adage that man is the measure of all things:
In our eyes God will be âthe measure of all thingsâ in the highest degree (Î¸Îµá½¸Ï á¼¡Î¼á¿Î½ ÏάνÏÏν ÏÏημάÏÏν μέÏÏον á¼Î½ εἴη μάλιÏÏα)âa degree much higher than is any âmanâ they talk of. He, then, that is to become dear to such an one must needs become, so far as he possibly can, of a like character (Îµá¼°Ï Î´á½»Î½Î±Î¼Î¹Î½ á½ Ïι μάλιÏÏα καὶ αá½Ïὸν ÏοιοῦÏον á¼Î½Î±Î³ÎºÎ±á¿Î¿Î½ γίγνεÏθαι). (Plato, Laws 716c)
The highest aim for humans, this passage suggests, is to become like this divine measure as much as possible (on âmeasureâ language in Plato and Paul, cf. §2.4.5 above).
In their interpretations and incorporations of passages such as these, important philosophical successors and competitors of Plato appear to diverge. Julia Annas speaks of âthe alternative ancient tradition, that of Aristotle (in the main) and the Stoics and Epicureans, who see our final end as lying in the fulfilling of human nature, rather than in an attempt to become some other kind of thingâ.114 Christoph Jedan, who distinguishes between eight different âjuncturesâ upon which accounts of homoiÅsis may diverge, states that this is indeed the main apple of discord: âThe juncture at which Stoicism exhibits the strongest contrast to Platoâs homoiÅsis is the question of how far imitation goes.â115 Similarly, ReneÌ Brouwer states, âFor Plato, the good life consists in becoming like god so far as is possible for a human being (â¦), for the Stoics the ideal is to become god in the sense of becoming part of the divine power that structures the world.â116 Gretchen Reydams-Schils puts it thus: âthe issue for them [i.e. the Stoics] is not becoming like god, but rather allowing the fact that humans are like god (á½Î¼Î¿Î¯ÏÏ á¼Ïειν) to come to its full fruition.â117 This way, Platonic homoiÅsis stands in opposition to Stoic oikeiÅsis, which, according to Boris Maslov, âreplaces the logic of âescapeâ by [sic] a logic of âexpansionâ that obeys a natural, instinctual mechanism, in accord with the basic injunction of a life kata physin âin accord with Natureâ.â118
It is worth asking, though, whether this difference between the Stoic and the Platonic position is not overstated. Does Platoâs language of assimilation to God imply some mystical flight from this world, to become more-than-human?119 Do Stoics and Epicureans leave no distance between the divine and the humane by completely âimmanentizingâ the former in the latter? As we shall see, the situation is quite complex.
According to (certain passages by) Plato, assimilation to God is simply the consequence of enjoying fellowship (á½Î¼Î¹Î»ÎÏ) with God.120 The âmeasure of Godâ is not set against any proto-Stoic account on immanent divinity, but against Platoâs sophistic contemporaries, who were known as moral relativistsâin Pauline terms, they were âmeasuring themselves by themselvesâ.121 In fact, especially in the Laws but also in the Republic, the ideal of godlikeness is not reserved for guardians or philosophers, yet put to full, worldly use in educating all citizens.122 In Plutarchâs version, it remains very practical in outlook:123
Consider first that God, as Plato says, offers himself to all as a pattern (ÏαÏάδειγμα) of every excellence, thus rendering human virtue (Ïὴν á¼Î½Î¸ÏÏÏίνην á¼ÏεÏήν), which is in some sort an assimilation to himself (á¼Î¾Î¿Î¼Î¿á½·ÏÏιν οá½Ïαν á¼Î¼ÏÏγέÏÏÏ ÏÏá½¸Ï Î±á½Ïόν), accessible to all who can follow God (Ïοá¿Ï á¼ÏεÏθαι θεῷ Î´Ï Î½Î±Î¼á½³Î½Î¿Î¹Ï). (â¦) for man is fitted to derive from God no greater blessing than to become settled in virtue (Îµá¼°Ï á¼ÏεÏὴν καθίÏÏαÏθαι) through copying and aspiring (μιμήÏει καὶ διώξει) to the beauty and the goodness that are his. (Plutarch, On the Delays of the Divine Vengeance 550DâE)
Rather than some transcendent process, Plutarch maintains that to become like God means to copy (mimÄsis is the word used here) Godâs virtues: human virtue in general may be understood as some sort of homoiÅsis to God.
On the Stoic and Epicurean side of the spectrum, the possibility of indeed âfulfilling human natureâ was only realized âso far as is possibleâ as well. The bold Stoic notion of simply âbecoming Godâ is somewhat relativized by the scarcity of such divine men, as Brouwer has established.124 Epictetus entreats his public to show him âa man who has set his heart upon changing from a man into a godâ, yet concludes âShow him to me! But you cannotâ.125 In Epicureanism, it is rather the blessed state of the gods that is to be imitated. Philodemus states: âthose who believe our oracles about the gods will first wish to imitate their blessedness insofar as mortals can.â126 Here as well, the formulation shows a certain hesitance to liken the mortal to the immortal.
There is some âmysticismâ involved, moreover, in Stoic accounts on homoiÅsis as well, yet not so much in the form of a movement from earth to heaven, as in one from heaven to earth. The closeness between God and humanity is not merely an abstract conviction, it is of actual assistance in the process of cultivating the divine character. The words of Seneca are reminiscent of certain parables from the New Testament when he explains the working of this process as something effected by God in us:
Do you marvel that man goes to the gods? God comes to men; nay, he comes nearer,âhe comes into men (in homines venit). No mind that has not God, is good (nulla sine deo mens bona est). Divine seeds are scattered throughout our mortal bodies (semina in corporibus humanis divina dispersa sunt); if a good cultivator (bonus cultor)127 receives them, they spring up in the likeness of their source and of a parity with those from which they came (similia origini prodeunt et paria iis, ex quibus orta sunt, surgunt). If, however, the cultivator be bad, like a barren or marshy soil, he kills the seeds, and causes tares to grow up instead of wheat. (Seneca, Epistles 73.16)
We learn here that according to this Stoic, homoiÅsis theÅi is not necessarily conceived of as a construct based solely on human effort or merit: there is ample room for divine grace (a word consciously chosen to point out that âbecoming like Godâ is not necessarily at odds with a Lutheran emphasis on grace). True, if you seize moral perfection, you enter in a different, more equal relationship with the divine, for âyou begin to be the associate of the gods, and not their suppliant (deorum socius esse, non supplex)â.128 But this must be seen in the context of rational worship aided by the gods. Seneca explicitly opposes the effort of cultic worship to a more rational indwelling of God or his spirit and concludes that âno man can be good without the help of Godâ.129 Philosophy itself is a gift from the gods, only the actualization of the gift is a human responsibility.130 At the same time, our being good is what pleases the gods: âwhoever imitates them, is worshipping them sufficientlyâ (satis illos coluit, quisquis imitatus est).131 Thus, the goal of equality and friendship with God does not preclude regarding God and man as separate entities either helping or worshipping the other in imitation.
Platonists, on the other hand, were more accustomed to speak of divine intervention, mediation, or assistance as something coming from outside of the human sphere.132 Nevertheless, Platonists could in the end be just as bold about divine-human interconnection. Maximus of Tyre, for instance, emphasizes the likeness between humanity and divinity. The soul of man is âsomething very close to God and like him in its natureâ (á¼Î³Î³ÏÏαÏον θεῷ καὶ á¼Î¼ÏεÏÎÏÏαÏον).133 Furthermore, according to this second-century rhetorician, it is not true that they differ in trustworthiness, human intellect being apistos, while the divine is pistos: âDivine prophetic powers and human intellectâthis is a daring thing to say, but I will say it none the lessâare kindred faculties; if anything at all resembles anything else, then there is nothing more similar to divine intellect than human excellence.â134 Human and divine excellence are also drawn together in Alcinousâs work. According to this Middle-Platonic author, Platoâs âflight towards godlikeness as far as possibleâ (Theaetetus 176b: ÏÏ Î³á½´ δὲ á½Î¼Î¿Î¯ÏÏÎ¹Ï Î¸Îµá¿· καÏá½° Ïὸ Î´Ï Î½Î±ÏÏν) is reinterpreted as a mere âturning away from most human mattersâ and homoiÅsis pros to theion is described as nothing other than the state of the human soul called wisdom (ÏÏÏνηÏιÏ).135 This, in turn, is very much like Plutarchâs opinion of the human soul, who, âwhen it has partaken of intelligence and reason and concord is not merely a work but also a part of god and has come to be not by his agency (á½Ïâ αá½Ïοῦ) but both from him as source (á¼Ï᾿ αá½Ïοῦ) and out of his substance (á¼Î¾ αá½Ïοῦ).â136 In other words, for these later Platonists, homoiÅsis has become âinner-cosmicâ: the imitation of the World Soul.137
Still, even though Platonism gained this more âimmanentâ picture of the divine, one main difference with the Stoic position remained.138 The Platonists of the first and second century ad still distinguish between the immanent divine and the ultimate, transcendent divine by distinguishing between the âGod above the heavens, who does not possess virtueâ, and the âGod in the heavensâ who apparently does, wherefore this immanent God is a proper object of assimilation.139 This âmediatedâ perspective on homoiÅsis was perhaps pioneered by Philo of Alexandria, who claims that ânothing earth-born is more like God than manâ yet limits assimilation to the Logos or second God, while upholding Godâs transcendence.140 This Logos performs an intermediary function: to âseparate the creature from the Creatorâ while being a surety to both sides:141
to the parent, pledging (ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïá½·ÏÏιν) the creature that it should never altogether rebel against the rein and choose disorder rather than order; to the child, warranting his hopes (ÏÏá½¸Ï Îµá½ÎµÎ»ÏιÏÏίαν) that the merciful God will never forget His own work. (Philo, Who Is the Heir? 206)
Noteworthy is that the reified usage of pistis as a âguaranteeâ is the means by which the distance to the divine parent is bridged: the Logos offers a trustworthy proof to God on behalf of humanity. Platonic homoiÅsis thus both upholds and bridges the distance to the transcendent God via an intermediate divine figure. This provides us with an interesting branch of this discourse for understanding the figure of Christ in Paulâs thought.
All in all, to come back to our initial question, the differences between how Platonists and Stoics speak of âbecoming like Godâ are subtle, not well captured in sweeping statements of essentially different orientations based on either a transcendent or an immanent theology.
The second issue responsible for some variation in positions among schools is the relationship between imitating God and imitating human examples of virtue. Michael Erler explains how in the Epicurean tradition âhomoiÅsis theÅi becomes homoiÅsis sophÅiâ142 and places this phenomenon in a wider polemical context:
To present a perfected moral self as an example to be imitated was obviously to take a stance on an issue that was controversial between the schools. Plato and his pupils did not accept that homoiÅsis of a mortal sophos can be as useful as homoiÅsis theÅi for achieving moral excellence. As Plato says in the Laws: âNot man, but god is the measure of all thingsâ. Later Platonists followed him in this. (Erler 2002a, 179)143
Erler refers to the anonymous Commentary to the Theaetetus and to Plotinus for this later Platonist debate and suggests that it âdocuments a discussion that went on in the first century bcâ.144 Whether or not these references are enough to substantiate his claim, the passage from the Laws does not necessarily imply that imitation of humans per se is undesirable; rather, it voices anti-sophistic concerns.145 Moreover, both the Laws and the Republic show Platoâs vision for a whole society aimed at attaining divine virtue by means of virtuous leadership.146 Of course, as we saw in chapter 2 and 4, in book X of the Republic (595aâ608b), Plato seems to have a problem with imitation of sensible examples, namely when he speaks derogatively of painting and poetry as arts whose representations are twice removed from true Forms.147 This type of imitation, however, concerns artistic imitation, not moral imitation.148 Later Platonists were at the very least not univocal in their scepticism towards human examples. In a tract that prefigures the later âmirror for princesâ tradition, Plutarch presents the ruler as âimage of Godâ (εἰκὼν θεοῦ) who âby his virtue forms himself in the likeness of Godâ (αá½Ïá½¸Ï Î±á½Ïὸν Îµá¼°Ï á½Î¼Î¿Î¹á½¹ÏηÏα θεῷ δι᾿ á¼ÏεÏá¿Ï); he âmust regulate his own soul and establish his own character (Ïὸ ἦθοÏ), then make his subjects fit his pattern (οá½ÏÏ ÏÏ Î½Î±ÏμόÏÏειν Ïὸ á½Ïήκοον)â.149
To understand the differences between the Epicurean and the Platonic school, it is useful to have a look at one particular Platonic treatise that is perhaps less well known in this context but harbours an abundance of homoiÅsis vocabulary: the Phaedrus. This dialogue uses rich imagery to show how the appropriation of virtue is effectuated by following in a chain of mimetic love. In a parable on the immortality of the soul, Zeus is pictured as leading a giant procession of gods and spirits (246eâ247a) in the shape of chariots towards the heavens to behold justice, temperance, and knowledge as they are. In this, they are followed by other souls, who barely see these realities from below, since they struggle to restrain their horses. Yet, âthat which best follows after God and is most like himâ (248a) might see some glimpses, and when this soul ends up being born as a human, it is most likely that of a philosopher or lover of beauty (248d). These more excellent human souls receive from the particular god they follow âcharacter and habits, so far as it is possible for a man to have part in Godâ (Ïá½° á¼Î¸Î· καὶ Ïá½° á¼ÏιÏηδεύμαÏα, καθ᾿ á½ Ïον Î´Ï Î½Î±Ïὸν θεοῦ á¼Î½Î¸Ïá½½Ïῳ μεÏαÏÏεá¿Î½) and in their turn, choose a beloved soul to âmake him, so far as possible, like their godâ (253a):
By imitating the god themselves (μιμούμενοι αá½Ïοί) and by persuasion and education they lead the beloved to the conduct and nature of the god (Ïá½° Ïαιδικὰ ÏείθονÏÎµÏ ÎºÎ±á½¶ á¿¥Ï Î¸Î¼á½·Î¶Î¿Î½ÏÎµÏ Îµá¼°Ï Ïὸ á¼ÎºÎµá½·Î½Î¿Ï á¼ÏιÏá½µÎ´ÎµÏ Î¼Î± καὶ ἰδέαν á¼Î³Î¿Ï Ïιν), so far as each of them can do so (á½ Ïη á¼Îºá½±ÏÏῳ δύναμιÏ); so that they exhibit no jealousy or meanness toward the loved one, but endeavour by every means in their power to lead him to the likeness of the god (Îµá¼°Ï á½Î¼Î¿Î¹á½¹ÏηÏα αá½Ïοá¿Ï Ïá¿· θεῷ) whom they honour. (Plato, Phaedrus 253bâc)
The usefulness of several layers of mediators, lower divinities, and philosophers between Zeus and the âbeloved discipleâ is evident from this account. Thus, whether in the setting of a city-state or philosophical education, the Platonic tradition offers ample material to allow for interhuman imitation, as a first step in approaching the excellence of the gods.
Platoâs perspective here, however, shows that he envisions homoiÅsis to be part of the immortal soulâs progress. By contrast, the Epicurean materialistic stance on the cosmos did not allow for such immaterial suppositions, rendering their idea of assimilation to the divine of the mortal human being highly optimistic or even hubristic in Platonic eyes. Furthermore, the love these souls in the Phaedrus feel for the god they follow immediately translates into the desire to actively teach others to become likewise. By contrast, as Erler himself argues, Epicurusâs care for the development of others was only secondary in nature by merely providing them with an example of human perfection.150 In sum, the main difference between Epicurean and Platonic traditions of homoiÅsis, so it seems, does not lie in endorsing human intermediaries (which they both did). They differed in how optimistic they were about the possibility of reaching a divine level with a mortal body and in the motivation they attributed to sages to help others reach their level of assimilation. Platonists were less optimistic about reaching a divine level, but more optimistic about the possibility and motivation of wise people to act as intermediaries and educators of those less advanced.
6.3.5 Pistis and the Topos of HomoiÅsis TheÅi
One matter has thus far been left unexplored: can we connect this tradition of homoiÅsis theÅi to the vocabulary of pistis, fides, and their cognates? I already have discussed various examples of these word stems in connection to the practice of philosophical imitation (in §6.3.2), but what about the discourse of likeness to God or the divine in general? In passing, we saw Maximus of Tyre liken human trustworthiness to divine trustworthinessâor lack thereofâespecially in the context of oracles. Philo described the intermediary function of the Logos in terms of a proof (pistis) to God that creation will not ultimately choose disorder over divine order.
Even though pistis is not a frequently praised virtue in Platoâs oeuvre, as an attitude or action it is used in the direct context of a homoiÅsis theÅi passage in book VI of the Republic. The subject under discussion is whether the majority will be able to set aside their prejudice (διαβολή) regarding philosophers as guardians so that the state can indeed be modelled after the divine. A philosopher is described as someone who âallies himself with the divine and orderly (Îείῳ καὶ κοÏμίῳ)â and hence âbecomes divine and orderly, as far as is possible for a human beingâ. Thereupon he feels urged âto put into practice what he sees in the divine realm in the private and public lives of men, and to mold not just his own character (μὴ μόνον á¼Î±Ï Ïὸν ÏλάÏÏειν)â but become a âcreator of righteousness, temperance, and any other kind of virtueâ (Î´Î·Î¼Î¹Î¿Ï Ïγὸν (â¦) ÏÏÏÏοÏá½»Î½Î·Ï Ïε καὶ δικαιοÏá½»Î½Î·Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ ÏÏ Î¼Ïá½±ÏÎ·Ï Ïá¿Ï δημοÏικá¿Ï á¼ÏεÏá¿Ï).151 Then, the question posed is:
But if the majority (οἱ Ïολλοὶ) see that we are telling the truth about him [i.e. the philosopher], will they get irritated with philosophers and refuse to believe us (á¼ÏιÏÏá½µÏÎ¿Ï Ïιν ἡμá¿Î½) when we say that a state would never otherwise be successful, unless artists portray it using some divine model (Ïá¿· θείῳ ÏαÏαδείγμαÏι ÏÏώμενοι)? (Plato, Republic 500dâe)
Faith in the philosophers, instead of prejudice, is a requirement in this reasoning for initiating the process of reforming a state according to the divine paradigm. Pistis sophÅi, trust in the homoiÅsis theÅi of the wise, precedes a similar homoiÅsis for the common people (hoi polloi). Thus, even though pistis does not function as a virtue to imitate, it is the proper attitude towards the philosophers, who act as intermediaries in assimilation to God.
In the Roman context, where Fides was worshipped as a prominent goddess (on the cult of Fides, see §7.3.1 below), it was also possible to speak of a transference of the divine quality of faith into human minds. This is what we encounter in the crucial episode of Silius Italicusâs epic Punica, at the point when Saguntum is sieged by the Carthaginians. Mercury pleads with Fides to intercede on behalf of the city and addresses Fides as âGoddess more ancient than Jupiter, glory of gods and men, without whom neither sea nor land finds peace, sister of Justice, silent divinity in the heart (in pectore) of manâ.152 She allows herself to be convinced to end her self-chosen exile from earth in order to give a final boost of faith to the struggling inhabitants of Saguntum:
Taking possession of their minds and pervading their breasts, her familiar habitation (invadit mentes et pectora nota pererrat), she instilled her divine power into their hearts (immittitque animis numen). Then, piercing even to their marrow, she filled them with a burning passion for herself (atque sui flagrantem inspirat amorem). (Silius Italicus, Punica 2.515â517)
What is especially noteworthy is the repeated connection between Fides and the human mind, breast, and heart. Notwithstanding her long absence as a virtue and the flourishing impiety she laments (494â506), she represents an affinity between the divine and the humane. The effect of her dramatic descent is an instilment of the same virtue she represents, opening up the possibility of the citizens to enact faith or confidence again.
Even more explicitly, Epictetus names being pistos as the first divine quality that comes to mind as suitable for human imitation. When describing what is the proprium of philosophy, as opposed to something like carpentry, he argues that one first ought to learn something (μαθών Ïινα), before putting it to work. In the case of philosophy, this has to do with the existence and nature of the gods:
Now the philosophers say that the first thing we must learn (μαθεá¿Î½) is this: That there is a God (á½ Ïι á¼ÏÏι θεὸÏ), and that He provides for the universe, and that it is impossible for a man to conceal from Him, not merely his actions, but even his purposes and his thoughts (διανοοÏμενον). Next we must learn what the gods are like (Ïοá¿Î¿Î¯ ÏÎ¹Î½ÎµÏ Îµá¼°Ïίν); for whatever their character is discovered to be, the man who is going to please and obey them must endeavour as best he can to resemble them (á¼Î½Î¬Î³ÎºÎ· ÏειÏᾶÏθαι καÏá½° δÏναμιν á¼Î¾Î¿Î¼Î¿Î¹Î¿á¿¦Ïθαι á¼ÎºÎµÎ¯Î½Î¿Î¹Ï). If the deity is faithful, he also must be faithful (εἰ ÏιÏÏÏν á¼ÏÏι Ïὸ θεá¿Î¿Î½, καὶ ÏοῦÏον εἶναι ÏιÏÏÏν); if free, he also must be free; if beneficent, he also must be beneficent; if high-minded, he also must be high-minded, and so forth; therefore, in everything he says and does, he must act as an imitator of God (á½¡Ï Î¸ÎµÎ¿á¿¦ ÏÎ¿á½·Î½Ï Î½ ζηλÏÏὴν Ïá½° á¼Î¾á¿Ï ÏάνÏα καὶ Ïοιεá¿Î½ καὶ λέγειν). (Epictetus, Discourses 2.14.11â13)
In this brief recapitulation of the importance of imitation of the divine for the philosophical enterprise, Epictetus considers the cultivation of faithfulness essential to gaining the right disposition (hexis). As we saw above, being pistos is an important quality to Epictetus, that is divine precisely because it is not dependent on external circumstances: practising pistis, one is able to die like a God, bear disease like a God (á¼Ïοθνá¿ÏκονÏα θείÏÏ, νοÏοῦνÏα θείÏÏ).153 At the same time, though, he considers it a divine command:
Your faithfulness is your own (Ïὸ ÏιÏÏὸν Ïόν), your self-respect is your own; who, then, can take these things from you? (â¦) Since you have such promptings and directions (á½ÏÎ¿Î¸á½µÎºÎ±Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ á¼Î½ÏολὰÏ) from Zeus, what kind do you still want from me? Am I greater than he, or more trustworthy (á¼Î¾Î¹Î¿ÏιÏÏá½¹ÏεÏοÏ)? (Epictetus, Discourses 4.3.12)154
The flexibility in Epictetusâs use of pistis language is perfectly illustrated in this passage, as it is used first as a quality and thereafter as an attitude towards either him or Zeus: whom would you rather trustâwho is, literally, more worthy of your pistis? Evidently, the sage or teacher loses out to the god. According to Epictetus, however, the virtue of faithfulness does not consist in this attitude towards Zeus, but in putting Godâs directions concerning the virtue of faithfulness into practice.
These examples show that when Christians in the early empire would speak of the importance of the virtue of faithfulness, or about the trust they put in their leaders, in Christ, in God, and of the trustworthiness of these âobjects of trustâ, worthy of their imitation, their message was unproblematically understood by their pagan contemporaries. Still, for the prominence of the virtue of pistis as a quality of men and attitude towards God at the same time, we must turn to a Jewish-Hellenistic version of the Platonic and Stoic philosophical traditions.
As we saw in chapter 4 (§4.3.4), in Philoâs works, pistis is connected to Abraham and Moses. It represents the virtue of stability, certainty, trustworthiness, and, as a virtue, it consists precisely in an action or attitude of trust (pisteuÅ), for it must be placed in the right, trustworthy (pistos) object:
To purge away each of these, to distrust created being, which in itself is wholly unworthy of trust (á¼ÏιÏÏá¿Ïαι γενέÏει Ïá¿ ÏάνÏα á¼Î¾ á¼Î±Ï Ïá¿Ï á¼Ïá½·ÏÏῳ), to trust in God, and in Him alone, even as He alone is truly worthy of trust (μόνῳ δὲ ÏιÏÏεῦÏαι θεῷ καὶ ÏÏá½¸Ï á¼Î»á½µÎ¸ÎµÎ¹Î±Î½ μόνῳ ÏιÏÏá¿·)âthis is a task for a great and celestial understanding. (Philo, Who Is the Heir? 93)155
While he adapts the Platonic epistemological division to allow for pistis to refer to the intelligible realm as well, he is perfectly in line with Platonism in juxtaposing the sensible and the eternal realm not only with the Delphic maxims in distrusting worldly goods but also with Stoicism when it comes to pistis an important quality of the sage who is not distracted by indifferent externals. As we have seen, the novelty in Philoâs use of pistis does not lie in some sort of inherent fideism, but rather in juxtaposing Abrahamâs faith in the eternal God with other peopleâs faith in sensibles. In the terms of the current chapter, his innovation is the connection between the virtue of trust/trustworthiness and the action of trusting.156 The virtue of pistis consists in trusting in accordance with the trustworthiness of the object, and, as I will demonstrate, even in becoming trustworthy by association and assimilation.
For even as in Philo, homoiÅsis theÅi as a topic per se is never discussed in terms of pistis, he comes close to suggesting that we ought to imitate Godâs pistis. Mosesâs privilege to âstandâ with God (Deut 5.31) is understood as a means to âput off doubt and hesitation, the qualities of the unstable mind (ἵνα á¼Î½Î´Î¿Î¹Î±Ïμὸν καὶ á¼ÏαμÏοÏεÏιÏμόν, á¼Î²ÎµÎ²Î±á½·Î¿Ï ÏÏ Ïá¿Ï διαθέÏÎµÎ¹Ï á¼ÏÎ¿Î´Ï ÏάμενοÏ), and put on that surest and most stable quality, faith (καὶ βεβαιοÏá½±Ïην διάθεÏιν, Ïá½·ÏÏιν, á¼Î½Î´á½»ÏηÏαι).â157 In Godâs presence, Moses is able to clothe himself with the divine stability, whose corollary, at least on the human side, is pistis. Looking ahead to my reading of Paul, this vocabulary of clothing is also used in his letters to explicate imitation of the divine (see §6.4.5 below). Yet even more strikingly, Philo also calls pistis a quality that belongs to God, and that is precisely why the human variant is essentially different: it imitates divine pistis, yet will always remain an image of the divine archetype:
Such a person asserts that the faith which man possesses should be so strong as to differ not at all from the faith which belongs to the Existent (Ïὴν Î³á½°Ï Ïá½·ÏÏιν, á¼§Ï á¼Î»Î±Ïεν á¼Î½Î¸ÏÏÏοÏ, οá½ÏÏ Î²á½³Î²Î±Î¹á½¹Î½ ÏηÏι δεá¿Î½ εἶναι, á½¡Ï Î¼Î·Î´á½²Î½ διαÏá½³Ïειν Ïá¿Ï ÏεÏὶ Ïὸ á½Î½), a faith sound and complete in every way. (â¦) Enough for man is the power to possess the images of these (Îµá¼°Îºá½¹Î½Î±Ï Î±á½Ïῶν), images in the scale of number and magnitude far below the archetypes (Ïῶν á¼ÏÏεÏá½»ÏÏν á¼Î»Î±ÏÏÎ¿Ï Î¼á½³Î½Î±Ï). (Philo, On the Change of Names 182â183: cf. on this passage §4.3.4 above)
Philo thus grounds the relationship of human and divine pistis in the ontological or even cosmological relationship of copy to original, image to example. Recalling Plutarchâs epistemology (see §4.3.5 above), such a relationship is not a static or powerless one according to Middle Platonist thought: the original grounds the existence of the image and shows what it can potentially become; it even acts as a causa efficiens leading the image in this direction. As a copy of divine pistis, Abrahamâs pistis is essentially weaker, but may strive towards the perfect original.
To sum up, by presenting Abraham and Moses as the ultimate examples of both the cognitive quality of unwavering faith and an attitude of trust, placed in the ultimate trustworthy object, i.e. God, Philo makes the utmost use of the multivalence of pistis language. Moreover, even though he does not connect homoiÅsis theÅi to pistis explicitly, by connecting Mosesâs stable faith to Godâs stability and by comparing human to divine pistis, we see the basic contours of the idea of assimilation to God in the quality of pistis.
6.4 The Mimetic Chain of Faith and Faithfulness in Paulâs Letters
6.4.1 Competing Together in Pistis (Phil 1.27): Faith as Virtue Rather than Kerygmatic Complex
We have seen that ancient philosophy, particularly in the Hellenistic and early Roman period, was a âlived philosophyâ focused on practising virtue. Would it make sense to read Paulâs usage of pistis in the context of the Graeco-Roman philosophical goal of practising âthe good lifeâ? The first thing to notice in this regard is that the practical orientation of ancient philosophy can also be found in the Pauline tradition. Here, too, we find comparisons with the training of athletes, boxing exercises, and rigid self-control, not unlike we find in the Stoic tradition (see §6.3.2 above):158
Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable garland, but we an imperishable one. So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified. (1 Corinthians 9.24â27)
Like Seneca, Paul compares the garland of athletes to a reward for all time. Like Epictetus, he uses the metaphor of boxing and the difficulties involved. Here, then, he evidently joins this philosophical topos of practising virtue. Can his usage of pistis vocabulary also be considered as partaking in this philosophical discourse of moral exercise?
In the beginning of Philippians, Paul draws on a figure of speech very similar to the one we just saw. After affirming his own commitment to their âprogress and joy in faithâ (Ïὴν á½Î¼á¿¶Î½ ÏÏοκοÏὴν καὶ ÏαÏὰν Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ), he admonishes them, among other things, to what I would translate as âcompeting together with one mind in the faithfulness expressed in the good newsâ:
Only, live your life (ÏολιÏεÏεÏθε) in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ (á¼Î¾Î¯ÏÏ Ïοῦ εá½Î±Î³Î³ÎµÎ»Î¯Î¿Ï Ïοῦ ΧÏιÏÏοῦ), so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel (μιᾷ ÏÏ Ïá¿ ÏÏ Î½Î±Î¸Î»Î¿á¿¦Î½ÏÎµÏ Ïá¿ ÏίÏÏει Ïοῦ εá½Î±Î³Î³ÎµÎ»Î¯Î¿Ï ). (Philippians 1.27)
The athletic metaphor suggests that the topic here is moral training: Paul wishes for their growth in the virtue of faithfulness in response to Godâs offer of a reciprocal bond of trust as announced in the good news. Yet the translation cited above, the NRSV, seems to suppose that pistis is shorthand for the kerygma itself. This choice reflects theâin my viewâlater usage of âfaithâ as âfaithful teachingâ or even âreligionâ and perhaps also a level of unease with the idea of faith as a virtue.
Such a view is both implicitly and rather more explicitly present in scholarly literature. Philip Towner, for instance, holds that, together with âthe truthâ (ἡ á¼Î»Î®Î¸ÎµÎ¹Î±), âthe faithâ (ἡ ÏίÏÏιÏ) âdescribes the whole matrix of objective data of which the Christian religion consistsâ.159 However, to equate faith with the content of âthe Christian religionâ reflects a modern rather than an ancient perspective. Moreover, Towner bluntly asserts that the semantic potential of pistis in the entire NT can be neatly put in these two categories: one in connection with the believerâs personal relation to Jesus Christ and another one referring to the aforementioned objective, doctrinal sense of âthe faithâ.160 This second category, Towner argues, is well-represented in the Pastorals, but he also organizes Galatians 1.23 under this heading, whereby he suggests that this meaning was prevalent in the early Pauline communities (on Gal 1.23, see §7.4.1 below). Similarly, Bradley Arnold, who wrote a monograph precisely on the topic of athletic imagery in Philippians, overlooks the possibility of interpreting pistis as the virtue of faithfulness, and out of the options âthe act of believingâ and âthe content of the faithâ he opts for the latter one.161
However, when we read this passage from Philippians with the Graeco-Roman discourse of practising moral virtue in mind, this is less obvious. We have seen (see esp. §6.3.2) that faith(fulness) as such was a virtue worth pursuing, a virtue that in the Pauline letters is deeply embedded in and coloured by the gospel narrative. Yet it is a virtue nonetheless. On a verbal level, the language of moral progress (ÏÏοκοÏή), civic conduct (ÏολιÏεÏομαι), and athletic training (ÏÏ Î½Î±Î¸Î»ÎÏ) indicates that there is more at stake than acceptance of a message.162ProkopÄ was a well-known Stoic concept of moral growth used by Epictetus and Seneca, among others.163 The verb politeuomai shows that public behaviour is at stake, even if such political terms were commonly used in discourses of cultivating a shared philosophical disposition (see also §3.4.3 above on Phil 3.20 and the living law discourse). The Epicurean communities in particular were seen as political communities in which a similar unity of mind (as in Phil 4.1: μιᾷ ÏÏ Ïá¿; cf. 2.2: Ïὸ αá½Ïὸ ÏÏονá¿Ïε, and 1 Cor 1.10: Ïῠαá½ÏῠγνÏμá¿) was deemed essential, as this remarkable characterization by the Platonist Numenius emphasizes:
Thus the School of Epicurus is like some true republic (ἡ á¼ÏικοÏÏÎ¿Ï Î´Î¹Î±ÏÏιβὴ ÏολιÏείᾳ Ïινὶ á¼Î»Î·Î¸Îµá¿), perfectly free from sedition, with one mind in common and one consent (κοινὸν á¼Î½Î± νοῦν, μίαν γνÏμην á¼ÏοÏÏá¿); from which cause they were, and are, and seemingly will be zealous disciples (ÏιλακÏÎ»Î¿Ï Î¸Î¿Î¹). (Numenius apud Eusebius, Preparation for the Gospel 14.5)164
This passage is an excellent example of how political metaphors were used in contexts of philosophical education. The purpose of the Epicureans was to create communities in which they cultivated one mind, or purpose, or disposition: they were political and moral-philosophical communities with âfollowersâ or âdisciplesâ at the same time. This nexus of political-philosophical language is also found in Philippians 1.27. Thus, in this semantic web, it is most likely that pistis relates to cultivating public, moral action as well.
How then, we may ask, is the genitive tou euangeliou as attribute of hÄ pistis to be understood? Does this not offer a direct connection to the gospel, the message, the kerygma? Naturally, it does. The question remains, however, in what way these two are connected. If pistis is understood as âthe faithâ, âthe gospelâ is used epexegetically as a synonym: âthe faith as it is being taught in/as the good newsâ. If we opt for âbeliefâ in a more shallow, cognitive sense, then the gospel may function as the object of this belief: belief in the gospel (which may more naturally be expressed with a preposition) or the belief prompted by the gospel. Both these options, however, are not foregrounded by the direct context. The gospel has already been described by Paul in this sentence as âthe gospel of Christâ, and the letter proceeds with the so-called hymn that is introduced by the words âlet the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesusâ (Phil 2.5: ÏοῦÏο ÏÏονεá¿Ïε á¼Î½ á½Î¼á¿Î½ ὠκαὶ á¼Î½ ΧÏιÏÏá¿· ἸηÏοῦ). For this reason, it is not too farfetched to read pistis here as the virtue of faithfulness, perfectly exemplified by Christ. Pistis then refers to ânot only believing in Christâ (οὠμÏνον Ïὸ Îµá¼°Ï Î±á½Ïὸν ÏιÏÏεÏειν: Phil 1.29), but also mimicking his suffering, humility, and other-regarding faithfulness.
That pistis is here referring to a virtue, to faithfulness, is confirmed from a different angle by comparing the only two occurrences of the verb synathleÅ predating the Pauline epistles. In one of these places, it goes together with another noun in the dative, and this dative can only be understood as pertaining to the thing being trained: the Ethiopians are said by Diodorus Siculus to have together trained their memory (μνήμῠÏÏ Î½Î·Î¸Î»Î·Î¼á½³Î½Î·Ï) to understand the figurative meaning of their symbols.165 By picturing the Philippiansâ progress by means of the metaphor of athletic training (ÏÏ Î½Î±Î¸Î»Î¿á¿¦Î½ÏεÏ), the logical complement in the dative also provides the thing they trained. Thus, faithfulness can similarly be understood as the direct object of the training: the virtue of faith.
Apart from the direct context, this usage of pistis as a virtue or action is confirmed by other passages from the undisputed Pauline epistles. In chapter 4, we already saw that the stability and endurance necessary to attain virtue is also necessary to attain a lifestyle determined by pistis (§4.4.1). In the previous chapter, the connection between pistis and energeia (from the preposition en and ergon) was already discussed (§5.4.3). The frequent co-occurrence of pistis and energeia already points towards the idea that pistis was viewed as something that âworksâ or âenergizesâ. More specifically, it is an action (ergon) enacted in a context of love (agapÄ). If we search for more instances in which pistis is clearly a virtue to be practised, we find at least two rather explicit passages.
At the very start of 1 Thessalonians, Paul assures his addressees that he is âconstantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labour of love and steadfastness of hope (Ïοῦ á¼ÏÎ³Î¿Ï Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ ÎºÎ±á½¶ Ïοῦ κÏÏÎ¿Ï Ïá¿Ï á¼Î³Î¬ÏÎ·Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ Ïá¿Ï á½Ïομονá¿Ï Ïá¿Ï á¼Î»ÏίδοÏ) in our Lord Jesus Christ.â166 The choice of the three substantives which function as object with the verb (âworkâ, âlabourâ, âsteadfastnessâ), all very similar in meaning, makes it sufficiently clear that all three modifying nouns are understood as actions and hence as virtues.167 In particular the combination âwork of faithâ in this passage (á¼Ïγον ÏίÏÏεÏÏ, cf. 2 Thes 1.11) demonstrates âa stress on human effort (á¼Ïγον) oftentimes overlooked in Paulâ.168Ergon in itself is not a negative term in the Pauline letters (cf. 1 Cor 3.13; 2 Cor 9.8). While this has been noted by some, the focus of (mostly Lutheran) scholarship on the contrast between faith and works of the law in the context of justification has blinded many to what is rather obvious: Paul explicitly calls faith(fulness) an effort.169
Furthermore, in Galatians pistis is included in the list concerning âfruit of the Spiritâ (Gal 5.22â23) as opposed to âworks of the fleshâ (Gal 5.19â21). It is well-known that these lists closely follow conventional Hellenistic catalogues of virtues and vices.170 Nevertheless, it is often claimed, most influentially by Hans Dieter Betz, that in speaking of âfruitâ Paul emphatically distances himself from both these Greek discourses and Jewish ethics to point out that virtue is not a human achievement but a divine gift.171 The word fruit, karpos, however, is used to indicate virtue by pagan authors as well. Take Plutarch, for instance, who speaks of the fruit of character (karpos Äthous) that produces virtue (aretÄ).172 In fact, from another work by Plutarch, we learn that the image of virtue as fruit can indicate either that it is the product of work and toil (á¼Ï᾿ á¼ÏγÏν Ïε Ïολλῶν καὶ διὰ ÏόνÏν μεγάλÏν) or that it has grown spontaneously (á¼Ï᾿ αá½Ïá¿Ï).173 Paulâs use of this metaphor in itself does not prove that there is an antithesis between âworksâ and âfruitâ in these verses, at least not as obvious as the one between âSinâ and âSpiritâ (cf. Gal 5.17). âAchievementâ and âfruitâ could easily function as synonyms. Whether pistis, like the other virtues summed up by Paul, is a human achievement or a divine gift is a question prompted by reformed theology, yet one not posed or answered in this passage. The command âLive by the Spiritâ (5.16: ÏνεÏμαÏι ÏεÏιÏαÏεá¿Ïε) at the very least suggests that a certain kind of human effort is required.
If we broaden the scope for a moment to include all Pauline letters, including the disputed Pastoral ones, we find even more instances of pistis used as a virtue. In discussions about authorship of the Pastorals, the changing meaning of pistis plays a role, which is argued to take on âthe more objective sense of a common body of belief or a virtue, or even Christianity itselfâ.174 As regards pistis as a virtue, however, the usage seems very much in line with the undisputed Pauline letters (as I argue in the current study), and the meaning of âa common body of beliefâ or âChristianity itselfâ is not always warranted, even in the Pastorals (as I argue elsewhere).175
In 1 Timothy, such a usage of pistis is evident in the expression âfight the good fight of faithâ (á¼Î³ÏÎ½Î¯Î¶Î¿Ï Ïὸν καλὸν á¼Î³á¿¶Î½Î± Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ) (1 Tim 6.12, see §6.4.2 on this text). In 2 Timothy, the addressee is called to âshun youthful passions (νεÏÏεÏÎ¹Îºá½°Ï á¼ÏÎ¹Î¸Ï Î¼Î¯Î±Ï) and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace (δικαιοÏÏνην, ÏίÏÏιν, á¼Î³Î¬Ïην, εἰÏήνην)â.176 In particular, the antithesis with âyouthful passionsâ leaves little doubt that the four words represent virtues that are to be attained by training higher adult faculties. We can also refer here to Paulâsâor âdeutero-Paulâsââpreview of the conclusion of his life from the same letter:
I have fought the good fight (Ïὸν καλὸν á¼Î³á¿¶Î½Î± ἠγÏνιÏμαι), I have finished the race (Ïὸν δÏÏμον ÏεÏÎλεκα), I have kept my faithfulness (Ïὴν ÏίÏÏιν ÏεÏήÏηκα). From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness. (2 Timothy 4.7â8)177
Again, the choice of words in this and many other translations suggests that faith is a monolithic whole to be âkeptâ or âlostâ. This is also affirmed by the reference to this text in the LSJ lexicon.178 The verb tÄreÅ, however, means in the first place âto watch overâ, âto take care ofâ, which leaves room for development and growth. Whereas this verb is common in military contexts, in view of the athletic metaphor here, I would rather explain it as belonging to the frame of moral growth and competing in virtue.179 Epictetus argues that âit is not the business of the philosopher (á¼Ïγον Ïοῦ ÏιλοÏá½¹ÏÎ¿Ï ) to guard (ÏηÏεá¿Î½) these external mattersâneither his paltry wine, nor his paltry oil, nor his paltry bodyâbut what? His own governing principle (Ïὸ ἴδιον ἡγεμονικόν).â180 This principle, the hegemonikon, needs to be pistos, trustworthy, in order to attain a level of wisdom and virtue.181 It is such internal virtue that the author of 2 Timothy also indicates here with the word pistis.
Since, as we have shown, pistis obviously functions within the context of moral growth in both contemporary philosophical sources and in the Pauline corpus as a whole, we must be careful in opting for an interpretation that suggests it represents, in the words of Philip Towner, âthe sum total of orthodox doctrineâ.182 As we have seen, even in the Pastoral Epistles, such a kerygmatic meaning is not always warranted, and in the context of this chapter, we have seen that the discourse of moral progress often offers a more illuminating explanatory context.
6.4.2 May the Sharing of Your Pistis Become Effective (Phm 1.6): Faith as an Individual or Communal Virtue?
The philosophical sources discussed in this chapter clearly show that pistis/fides functioned as a virtue that is in need of cultivation. As the previous subsection emphasized, there is much to say for reading instances of Pauline pistis as taking part in this same discourse. However, unlike in pagan philosophical sources, in the undisputed Pauline letters cultivation of pistis usually concerns the community as a whole. We might now ask whether this says something substantial about the manner in which pistis is configured in Paulâs thought, or whether this is an incidental matter related to the number of addressees and Paulâs role as a founder of faith-based communities. In other words, is the Pauline virtue of faith, in contrast to the Graeco-Roman philosophical virtue of faith, essentially a communal virtue?
In an extensive article on faith in Romans, Ben Dunson acknowledges both the individual and the communal aspects of pistis. On careful examination, however, Dunson appears to emphasize individual, in contrast to participatory, readings, such as in this statement:
Any claim made about the nature of faith in Romans or in Paulâs thought as a whole, therefore, must give due heed to the voice of ἡ á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ Î´Î¹ÎºÎ±Î¹Î¿ÏÏνη, which proclaims a message of individual faith in Christ that results in justification. (Dunson 2011, 34)
Dunson bases his claim on the individual nature of âfaith that results in justificationâ primarily on Romans 10.5â13, a passage that according to Dunson âenables the interpreter to read faith in Romans backwardsâ (p. 22). I would argue instead for a reading of this passage against the background of the discourse on benefaction and politics, in which the faith of whole nations is at stake, as I explain below (§7.4.1). Moreover, as we already saw, faith in the context of justification makes perfect sense against the background of Golden Age narratives, in which a righteous society, not individual justification, is foregrounded (see §3.4.1).
Even when instances of pistis language can be traced to the semantic domain of knowledge, persuasion, and virtue (the broader domain of my chapters 4 to 6), it is never attributed to each individual in Paulâs communal audienceâwhich could potentially have been phrased like âthe faith of every one of youâ (ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á¼Î½á½¸Ï á¼ÎºÎ¬ÏÏÎ¿Ï ÏάνÏÏν á½Î¼á¿¶Î½).183 Nor is it described as something in which some addressees might be more advanced than others or have a greater share than others, as my discussion of many âsuspiciousâ passages has already shown.184 The first thing one observes when looking into this question is that it is first and foremost âyour faithâ, in plural, that concerns Paul. In contrast to the philosophical discourse of moral perfection, pistis as a firm conviction seems to be very much a communal trait in Paulâs eyes.
Still, there are some more Pauline texts which may speak of the pistis of an individual. The pointed phrase âfrom pistis to pistisâ from the opening of Romans (Rom 1.17) is sometimes also connected with growth of individual faith. Nevertheless, as I already explained (see §3.4.4), the results of John W. Taylorâs comparative linguistic approach are convincing: he questions an individual interpretation of this phrase and opts for a collective increase in obedience to the gospel and thereby an increase in Godâs bond of trust among the nations.185 If we interpret this phrase in light of the preceding verse as âfrom the bond of faithfulness with the Jews to the growing bond of faithfulness with the nationsâ, growth and communality in pistis go hand in hand. Moreover, as we have seen in the text discussed there (in §3.4.4), growth is depicted in terms exceeding mere numbers. Paul is concerned not so much with the quantity of believers, but with the quality of their faith(fulness). Yet, also as regards qualitative growth in faith, the communality of this faith is never in question.
In a sense, the references to Abrahamâs faith or faithfulness in Galatians 3 and Romans 4 seems to represent an individualized account of pistis. After all, the pistis Abraham expressed takes the shape of the relationship between one person and God. Hence, Benjamin Schliesser describes the transition from Romans 3 to 4 as Paul walking âfrom a description of faith as objective, divine event to a concretization and individualization through his portrayal of the patriarchâs faithâ.186 Likewise, David Hay states that Paulâs âuse of Abraham as a model of faith in the presence of temptation (Rom 4.19â21), implies a strong sense that faith concerns individuals as well as communities.â187 Still, we must keep in mind that the patriarch fulfils a particular role in Paulâs account: Abraham is an example or paradigm. As I argued above (in §4.4.1), Romans 4 shows how righteousness is assigned not only to the individual, trusting, and faithful Abraham, but to all who, in his footsteps, are faithful in putting their faith in God, the circumcised descendants as well as the many uncircumcised nations (Rom 4.17â18). Furthermore, the promise in question pertains to exactly this matter of offspring.188 Abraham is a patriarch who serves as a model for all his children.
Likewise, in Galatians, where the case of Abraham is treated more briefly, the emphasis is still on the collective result of the paradigmatic faith of an individual. The possibility of trusting God and thus entering into a bond of reciprocal trust and faithfulness, as evident in the story of Abraham, became an option for all: all those who live by faith in God and faithfulness to God (Gal 3.7 and 3.9: οἱ á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ) are descendants of Abraham. This collective context of lineage and descent is rightly brought to the fore by Caroline Johnson Hodge, who translates the final verse thus: âThose who descend from Abrahamâs faithfulness are blessed with the faithful Abraham.â189 What is less fortunate in this translation is its suggestion that hoi ek pisteÅs have a somewhat passive role as descendants, whereas this chapter has shown that pistis was very much a virtue, practised in Abrahamâs footsteps. Pistis fulfils the same role as we saw in the Graeco-Roman sources on faith in the context of justice and law (see chapter 3 above): if the citizens of a society are characterized by the virtues of trust and good faith, sponsored by just rulers and modelled by paradigms such as Saturn, Numa, or Augustus, justice can flourish. As a modelâs individual virtue, it opens up the collective possibility of dikaiosynÄ on a nation-wide scale (on Romans 4, see also §4.4.1 above and §7.4.4 below).
As six out of seven undisputed letters are addressed to communities, the one letter at our disposal that might provide some insight into the possibility of individual progress in faith of a living individual in Paulâs days is the Letter to Philemon. Apart from this letter, we do not possess undisputed Pauline letters addressed to individuals, and even in this letter, the entire church is addressed and two more individuals are mentioned, together with the one who probably was its first recipient and namesake. In the thanksgiving section of Philemon, Paul first puts forth Philemonâs love and pistis (1.5): âbecause I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith towards the Lord Jesusâ (á¼ÎºÎ¿ÏÏν ÏÎ¿Ï Ïὴν á¼Î³Î¬Ïην καὶ Ïὴν ÏίÏÏιν ἣν á¼ÏÎµÎ¹Ï ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïὸν κÏÏιον ἸηÏοῦν καὶ Îµá¼°Ï ÏάνÏÎ±Ï ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ á¼Î³Î¯Î¿Ï Ï). Whereas the NRSV takes this pistis to be directed only towards Christ following a chiastic ABBA structure (or perhaps under influence of Colossians 1.4), it is also defendable to include the saints as the object of the pistis of Philemon (and Christ as the object of agapÄ): his good faith is then also directed towards Philemonâs community members.190 Thomas Schumacher sees in this text proof that one and the same case of pistis can carry both the usage of human-divine and interhuman faith.191
The next sentence (Phm 1.6) is even more difficult to interpret. Paul encourages Philemon to put faith into action: âI pray that hÄ koinÅnia tÄs pisteÅs sou may become effective (á½ ÏÏÏ á¼¡ κοινÏνία Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ ÏÎ¿Ï á¼Î½ÎµÏÎ³á½´Ï Î³ÎνηÏαι)â. The difficulty in interpreting this verse lies in the precise meaning of the word group hÄ koinÅnia tÄs pisteÅs sou. Some exegetes take sou to configure only tÄs pisteÅs instead of the entire word group, resulting in translations like âthe sharing of your faithâ, âthe participation in your faithâ, or âthe generosity based on your faithâ.192 The other option takes sou as referring to the entire word group, resulting in translations like âyour fellowship characterized by faithâ, âyour partnership with us in faithâ, or âyour participation in our relationship of faithâ.193 Then, there seems to be an undertone of critique, questioning whether Philemonâs pistis is effective enough as a partaker in the pistis community. This might be a counterproductive tactic, however, in an otherwise optimistic thanksgiving section. In view of the praise of Philemonâs pistis in the preceding verse, I would somewhat tentatively side with the first option here: âthe generosity based on your faithfulnessâ. In that case, Paulâs argument is a more subtle one, namely that, since Philemon is sharing so generously with the entire community out of his faithfulness, this generosity ought to be extended towards his brother Onesimus too, who, like Paul, belongs to the Christ-community (cf. the repetition of koinos language in 1.17).194 Philemonâs sharing of faithfulness refers to its intended inclusiveness: it extends to Onesimus.195 Following this interpretation, it is Philemonâs individual faith that needs to be practised, to put to effect, in the context of and to the benefit of the community as a whole.
Finally, we can have a look beyond the undisputed Pauline corpus at the Pastorals, letters that were at least formally addressed to individualsâalthough this may have been a literary device and, regardless, they may have functioned as community instructions at an early point. In these letters, we find more evidence of an individualized account of faith. The instruction to Timothy is of particular interest, because it emphasizes a continued training in life and learning. Timothy is in the first place responsible for his personal training. This training is pictured as the opposite of âlove of moneyâ (philarguria), in terms of faith and in terms of the recurring theme of âcontesting in a contestâ (see the previous subsection):
But as for you, man of God, shun all this; pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness (δικαιοÏÏνην, εá½ÏÎβειαν, ÏίÏÏιν, á¼Î³Î¬Ïην, á½Ïομονήν, ÏÏαÏÏαθίαν). Fight the good fight of faith (á¼Î³ÏÎ½Î¯Î¶Î¿Ï Ïὸν καλὸν á¼Î³á¿¶Î½Î± Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ); take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called and for which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. (1 Timothy 6.11â12)
The second instance of âfaithâ the author speaks of here is often understood as the sum total of Christian teachings, as a finalized, dogmatic whole, indicated by the definite article âtheâ in translations. We saw in the previous subsection how this semantic development of pistis is not warranted by Paulâs usage and even in the Pastorals these translations may prove anachronistic. Viewed in the Graeco-Roman context and with the catalogue of virtues from the first sentence in mind, the pistis spoken of should rather be understood as the act of faithful living: a virtue that requires continuous exercise.
Notwithstanding the focus on Timothy as an individual, his âfight of faithâ must also be seen in light of his role as a teacher. For, earlier in the same letter, he is admonished to transmit his teachings through the example of practising this virtue of faith:
These are the things you must insist on and teach. Let no one despise your youth, but set the believers an example (ÏÏÏÎ¿Ï Î³Î¯Î½Î¿Ï Ïῶν ÏιÏÏῶν) in speech and conduct, in love, in pistis, in purity. (â¦) Put these things into practice, devote yourself to them (ÏαῦÏα μελÎÏα, á¼Î½ ÏοÏÏÎ¿Î¹Ï á¼´Ïθι), so that all may see your progress (ÏÎ¿Ï á¼¡ ÏÏοκοÏá½´). Pay close attention to yourself and to your teaching; continue in these things (á¼ÏεÏε ÏÎµÎ±Ï Ïá¿· καὶ ÏῠδιδαÏκαλίᾳ· á¼Ïίμενε αá½Ïοá¿Ï), for in doing this you will save both yourself and your hearers. (1 Timothy 4.11â12,15â16)
The teachings of Christ are literally depicted as âtraditionâ: they ought to be transmitted in an educational setting. It is evident from this passage that this education does not so much consist of a transfer of knowledge as of the learning of the ideal disposition: the vocabulary of practice, cultivation, and persistence is reminiscent of the philosophical sources we discussed. In anticipation of the next section, we may point to the importance attached to being a good model or exemplar (ÏÏÏοÏ): Timothy is supposed to set an example for the pistoi inâinter aliaâpistis. Moreover, in this he succeeds Paul himself, who introduced his own role earlier in the same letter as âa teacher of the gentiles in faith and truthâ (1 Tim 2.7: διδάÏÎºÎ±Î»Î¿Ï á¼Î¸Î½á¿¶Î½ á¼Î½ ÏίÏÏει καὶ á¼Î»Î·Î¸ÎµÎ¯á¾³). A virtue is in that sense always a social virtue, meant to inspire the same habitus in others. The question for the next subsection is whether this discourse of imitation in pistis can already be traced in the earlier Pauline tradition, to which the undisputed letters attest.
To come back to the initial question, the case of Philemon shows that, on the one hand, the quality of pistis can very well be attributed to an individual. Faith is not a communal quality per se. In this regard there is no radical difference between Pauline and pagan moral instruction. On the other hand, the only use of pistis vocabulary we have in an individualized context concerns a usage in close connection to its practice within the community (Phm 1.6). Faith is never thought of as something pertaining only or exclusively to an individual in the scarce evidence we have. Paulâs (or 1 Timothyâs authorâs) aim was to foster the virtue of faithfulness in communities and in individuals as a means to foster faithfulness in communities.196 Whether this usage is due to Paulâs understanding of pistis or to the circumstance of Paulâs mission of building communities and writing letters with a plural audience is an unanswerable question. We cannot and perhaps should not try to separate semantics from pragmatics here.
6.4.3 An Example to All the Pisteuontes (1 Thes 1.7): Interhuman Imitation in and through Faith
Whereas it hardly bears repeating that Paul partakes in a discourse of imitation (see §6.2.2 above), and while the importance of pistis vocabulary to the Pauline gospel may be evident, the question remains: can we also find instances of pistis language either as quality to be imitated or as attitude facilitating such imitation? In what follows, I will briefly refer to a number of passages to support my thesis that we indeed can find both, without aiming to offer a comprehensive exegesis of each text. Although a nice phrase like âimitate my pistis in Christ, as I imitate his pistis in Godâ is lacking in the extant Pauline letters, I will show that pistis plays a part in several interhuman relationships of imitation (this subsection), as well as in the Christ-followerâs relationship to Christ (§6.4.4).
Even though it formally lies beyond the scope of this research, it is telling that the Letter to the Hebrews echoes precisely this focus on the importance of living examples of faith(fulness): âRemember (μνημονεÏεÏε) your leaders, those who spoke the word of God to you; consider the outcome of their way of life (ὧν á¼Î½Î±Î¸ÎµÏÏοῦνÏÎµÏ Ïὴν á¼ÎºÎ²Î±Ïιν Ïá¿Ï á¼Î½Î±ÏÏÏοÏá¿Ï), and imitate their faith (μιμεá¿Ïθε Ïὴν ÏίÏÏιν)â (Hebr 13.7). Pistis is here the grammatical and actual object of imitation. Leaders are also to be observed for the outcome of their conduct, and perhaps since âoutcomeâ can also refer to death, even for their literal departure from life. In both cases, the ones who preached Godâs message should also practise it, to offer concrete models for imitation.
In the Pastorals, there is also an evident example of the type of imitation which includes both the faith of the teacher and the discipleâs faith in the teaching:
Now you have observed my teaching (ÏαÏηκολοÏθηÏÎ¬Ï Î¼Î¿Ï ÏῠδιδαÏκαλίᾳ), my conduct, my aim in life, my faithfulness (Ïá¿ ÏίÏÏει), my patience, my love, my steadfastness, (â¦) But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of (á¼Î½ Î¿á¼·Ï á¼Î¼Î±Î¸ÎµÏ καὶ á¼ÏιÏÏÏθηÏ), knowing from whom you learned it, and how from childhood you have known the sacred writings that are able to instruct you, for salvation through faith in/faithfulness that is in Christ Jesus (Îµá¼°Ï ÏÏÏηÏίαν διὰ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ Ïá¿Ï á¼Î½ ΧÏιÏÏá¿· ἸηÏοῦ). (2 Timothy 3.10,14)197
This passage is noteworthy, if only for the use of the verb pistoÅ (ÏιÏÏÏÏ), which is unique in the whole of the New Testament. In all extant literature, the active sense, âto make trustworthyâ, is rare; the more common middle voice signifies the intransitive âto be trustworthyâ or âto exchange good faithâ. In the passive form used here and within this context, the logical choice for á¼ÏιÏÏÏÎ¸Î·Ï is the âsofterâ meaning of âto be persuadedâ (LSJ 2.2), rather than âto be made trustworthyâ (for instance by swearing). The faith(fulness) of the author, which the addressee should follow closely (ÏαÏÎ±ÎºÎ¿Î»Î¿Ï Î¸ÎÏ) in order to imitate it, is creatively connected with the faith in his teachingsââknowing from whom you learned itâ. This shows that at least in the early Christian tradition it was not uncommon to speak of imitation of anotherâs dispositional pistis parallel to speaking of pistis as a relational attitude, an attitude of being persuaded by anotherâs teaching.
The aim of this inter-human imitation with the inclusion of the study of scripture is again phrased in terms of pistis. It concerns âsalvation through faith that is placed in Christ Jesusâ or âsalvation through the faithfulness that is in Christ Jesusâ. As á¼Î½ is not the most obvious choice to indicate a direction of trust or faith, the sense of âbyâ or âthroughâ as a marker of agency or cause seems the most fitting interpretation: âthrough the faithfulness (we possess/that becomes ours) through Christ Jesusâ.198 In any event, from this short passage it is possible to infer that âhorizontal imitationâ and âvertical salvationâ both involve pistis. Moreover, there is no hint of any awkward juxtaposition, such as I described in the introduction, to be found in this phrase.
It is now worth asking whether there are any early traces of this type of imitation of the virtue of pistis of other Christ-followers, or of Christ, or of pistis as an attitude which leads to imitation, in the undisputed Pauline letters. As for the imitation of human examples, it is noteworthy that here, pistis vocabulary usually pertains to imitation of faith or faithfulness as a dispositional quality, as imitandum. Yet there are also examples of faith as the attitude enabling a relationship of imitation.
Like Philo, Paul obviously employs Abraham as a prototype, as the father of all the faithful: circumcised and uncircumcised (âwith and without foreskinâ) follow in the footsteps of this narrative and historical exemplum of pistis (Rom 4.11â12). The presentation of Abraham as âfatherâ fits the general Roman pattern of mimicking the civic virtue of the great ancestors. Still, imitation of the faith of such a forefather and scriptural example is of course rather abstract.
Apart from this abstract or literary usage, it is also possible to speak of a concrete mimetic chain of individuals in the Pauline network of communities in analogy to the master-student relationships I discussed in Hellenistic philosophy. As we saw in chapter 4, Paul and his companions are given the position of teachers or even âfather/brothersâ sponsoring their pupilsâ faith(fullness) and to fulfil this position adequately, such teachers must be trustworthy (pistos) themselves (see §4.4.2 above). The need of being found pistos is not only a familiar cultural maxim; it is important to Paul in the context of being worthy of imitation:199
Indeed, in Christ Jesus I became your father through the gospel. I appeal to you, then, be imitators of me (μιμηÏαί Î¼Î¿Ï Î³Î¯Î½ÎµÏθε). For this reason I sent you Timothy, who is my beloved and faithful child in the Lord (ÏÎκνον á¼Î³Î±ÏηÏὸν καὶ ÏιÏÏὸν á¼Î½ ÎºÏ Ïίῳ), to remind you of my ways in Christ Jesus (á½Ï á½Î¼á¾¶Ï á¼Î½Î±Î¼Î½Î®Ïει Ïá½°Ï á½Î´Î¿ÏÏ Î¼Î¿Ï Ïá½°Ï á¼Î½ ΧÏιÏÏá¿· ἸηÏοῦ), as I teach them everywhere in every church (ÎºÎ±Î¸á½¼Ï ÏανÏαÏοῦ á¼Î½ ÏάÏá¿ á¼ÎºÎºÎ»Î·Ïίᾳ διδάÏκÏ). (1 Corinthians 4.15â17)
Since Paulâs teachings are literally called âwaysâ that can be refreshed by anotherâs presence, both the practical nature of these teachings and the transferral by means of stepwise imitation are made apparent. From this passage, we learn that being trustworthy (pistos) towards the one who teaches you âthe ways in Christ Jesusâ is a condition for being a âshackleâ in a mimetic chain, for this also makes one in turn trustworthy as a teacher to others. In contrast to Abraham, here it is not entirely sure if pistis is also the quality the addressees ought to imitate, or if it is only the relational attitude enabling imitation. To stick with the metaphor, pistis is the oil to lubricate the chain, yet it may also be an essential part of what links the shackles.
If we analyse this text according to this mimetic chain model, no less than four âshacklesâ can be distinguished: Christ, Paul, Timothy, and the addressed community. Teresa Morgan refers to this ongoing process with a hierarchy of actors on different levels as a âcascade of pistisâ: âIf we focus more narrowly on the way Paul sees himself as entrusted by God with his mission, we can also see pistis, in the sense of âtrustworthinessâ, (â¦) as âcascadingâ from God to his apostle, from his apostle to those to whom he preaches, and from communities of converts to others who are inspired by them.â200 This is a powerful image that emphasizes the overflow and spread of authority and trustworthiness down the chain. Water generally does not flow upwards, though, and it is specific to the metaphor of the mimetic chain that pistis moves in both directions. Apart from âpistis as trustworthinessâ, which moves downward, âpistis as trustâ moves in the opposite direction. The faith of Paulâs addressees in Timothy mimics Timothyâs faith in Paul and Paulâs faith in Christ, giving the addressees an active role from the start.
The importance of the addresseesâ faith is particularly evident from the letter to the community in Thessaloniki. Here, we find the language of imitation more than once in direct context of pistis vocabulary. Moreover, in this letter, it becomes clear that imitation not only functions in top-down structures headed by Paul, but, much more like a network, the collective faith(fulness) of his addressees becomes the example to other Christ-communities.
1 Thessalonians is structurally a somewhat puzzling epistle, for it is not quite clear where the formal thanksgiving section ends.201 Paul continues until the end of what is now chapter 3 to express his thanks to God for their sake (cf. 1 Thes 2.13; 1 Thes 3.9), while at the same time describing the events that led up to the writing of this letter. In two passages, one from the thanksgiving section and one from what we may call the extended thanksgiving section, the Thessalonians are said to follow a repeated pattern with these four elements: persuasion, transformation, imitation, and representation.202 The contents of these sections, I would argue, are illuminated by the specific discourse of ethics and imitation of God that forms the backbone of this chapter.203
In a narrower sense, at least, 1 Thessalonians 1.2â10 can be delineated as the primary formal thanksgiving section that contains multiple references to the contents that follow.204 In this section, as we have already seen (§6.4.1), Paul begins by praising the Thessaloniansâ âwork of faith(fulness)â, fully acknowledging the exercise it involves. I compared this focus on ethical practice and training to the process of acquiring a philosophical disposition. Paul then continues with describing various mimetic relationships:
And you became imitators of us and of the Lord (á½Î¼Îµá¿Ï μιμηÏαὶ ἡμῶν á¼Î³ÎµÎ½Î®Î¸Î·Ïε καὶ Ïοῦ ÎºÏ ÏÎ¯Î¿Ï ), for in spite of persecution you received the word with joy inspired by the Holy Spirit, so that you became an example to all the believers in Macedonia and in Achaia (á½¥ÏÏε γενÎÏθαι á½Î¼á¾¶Ï ÏÏÏον ÏᾶÏιν Ïοá¿Ï ÏιÏÏεÏÎ¿Ï Ïιν á¼Î½ Ïá¿ Îακεδονίᾳ καὶ á¼Î½ Ïá¿ á¼ÏαÎá¾³). For the word of the Lord has sounded forth from you not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but in every place where your faith in God has become known (á¼Î½ ÏανÏὶ ÏÏÏῳ ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á½Î¼á¿¶Î½ ἡ ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïὸν θεὸν á¼Î¾ÎµÎ»Î®Î»Ï θεν), so that we have no need to speak (λαλεá¿Î½) about it. (1 Thessalonians 1.6â8)
After praising the Thessaloniansâ reception of the âwordâ, Paul speaks of Christ, himself, and the addressees as being successive models for imitation. Besides the chain of teachers and students, this text refers to a less tangible way of imitating: imitation is linked to the missional project. The Thessalonians in their turn became an example (typos) to âthe believersâ: they represent Paul and Christ to others on a more horizontal level.205
Is this an example of interhuman imitation in the virtue of pistis? The participle pisteuontes might simply be an unmarked designation, yet one could also argue that it carries the more specific meaning of âthose who have placed their trust in God, in Christ and/or in his followersâ (I argue for a more specific meaning of pistis designations in chapter 8). As the final quoted sentence confirms, it is indeed their trust in or trustworthiness vis-aÌ-vis God (ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á½Î¼á¿¶Î½ ἡ ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïὸν θεὸν) that is deemed exemplary, so that it speaks louder than words. More specifically, this pistis is described as consisting of the actions of welcoming Paul, turning from idols, serving God, and waiting for his son (1 Thes 1.9â10).206 Paulâs persuasive message is what started the Thessaloniansâ moral transformation, and in turn their imitation of Paul and Christ in faithfulness to God is what furthers Paulâs persuasive message, it even makes the initial message redundant.207 According to Paul, âimitation in faithâ is more effective than persuasion with words. This seems to be the same missionary effect of faithfulness that is referred to in the thanksgiving section of Romans, when Paul emphasizes that âyour faith is proclaimed throughout the worldâ (Rom 1.8, on which see also §7.4.1). We can hence justly speak of a mimetic multiplication of faith.208
This pattern of persuasion, transformation, imitation, and representation recurs in this letter:
We also constantly give thanks to God for this, that when you received the word of God that you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word but as what it really is, Godâs word, which is also at work in you believers (á¼Î½ÎµÏγεá¿Ïαι á¼Î½ á½Î¼á¿Î½ Ïοá¿Ï ÏιÏÏεÏÎ¿Ï Ïιν). For you, brothers and sisters, became imitators (á½Î¼Îµá¿Ï Î³á½°Ï Î¼Î¹Î¼Î·Ïαὶ á¼Î³ÎµÎ½Î®Î¸Î·Ïε) in Christ Jesus of the churches of God that are in Judea. (1 Thessalonians 2.13â14)209
Here, too, the act of becoming imitators follows directly from accepting Paulâs message as the word of God, i.e. from persuasion. Even more explicitly, the element of transformation is present, as this word is said to be active in them as âbelieversâ or âfaith-full peopleâ. As I argued in the previous chapter regarding this and other texts, in the Pauline frame persuasion leads to active moral transformation. Pistis describes this energetic kind of faithfulness, expressed in loving action. This process of persuasion and transformation is subsequently linked to the Thessaloniansâ role as mimÄtai, imitators. It is by imitation âin Christ Jesusâ of other churches, that this transformation is effectuated. This time, the representative role is performed by another set of congregations, instead of by the Thessalonians themselves, like in the previous text. Yet again, the persuasion by Paul is aided by horizontal imitation of other representatives of Christ.
The importance of interhuman imitation, imitation of Paul but also of others, is confirmed explicitly in Philippians, where Paul states: âJoin in imitating me (ÏÏ Î¼Î¼Î¹Î¼Î·Ïαί Î¼Î¿Ï Î³Î¯Î½ÎµÏθε), and observe those who live according to the example you have in us (ÎºÎ±Î¸á½¼Ï á¼ÏεÏε ÏÏÏον ἡμᾶÏ)â (Phil 3.17). Paulâs audience is again described as mimÄtai, or more precisely as summimÄtai âco-imitatorsâ. In the immediate context, pistis Christou, the faith(fulness) of Christ, is introduced, as evidenced by his suffering and death in which Paul wants to participate (κοινÏνία) or become equal to (ÏÏ Î¼Î¼Î¿ÏÏιζÏμενοÏ) (Phil 3.9â10). The Philippians are called to pay attention to others who take Paul as their typos, their example.210
Although it is one thing to observe this connection between faith and interhuman imitation, I have perhaps not yet sufficiently established whether this imitation is really similar to Graeco-Roman philosophical mimÄsis, that is, active personal imitation of a teacher and ultimately of the divine. In my review of scholarly reflection on the theme of this chapter (§6.2), I already discussed the influential approach by Wilhelm Michaelis in the Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, who distinguished three different meanings of mimÄsis vocabulary: (1) simple comparison, (2) actively following an example, and (3) submitting to authority.211 When it comes to the first text I discussed from 1 Thessalonians, he seems to be doubleminded, placing it first under the heading of âsimple comparisonâ, and stating later on that âthe main stress falls on the element of obedienceâ.212 In both cases, it is clear that Michaelis denies that Paul intends to speak of the Thessaloniansâ conscious imitation of his example. Fiori, who argues against Michaelisâs focus on authority, agrees with Michaelisâs first classification of this text as well as 1 Thessalonians 2.14 as âsimple comparisonâ:
Michaelis rightly suggests that 1 Thes 2.14 and even 1 Thes 1.6 represent the use of imitation in a âsimple comparisonâ. No deliberate imitation is meant but the troubled condition of the Macedonian community is like the persecuted church in Judea and also like the suffering Paul and Christ. In this respect the Thessalonians themselves become an example (typos) for other churches in Macedon and Achaea (1.7). (Fiore 1986, 184â185)
It is obviously true that the Thessalonians are said to share with Paul, with Christ, and with the other churches suffering and persecution, conditions that cannot actually be imitated by choice. Nevertheless, this does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that the imitation in question is simple comparison. Michaelis and Fiori fail to take the active role of pistis in both contexts into account. By accepting Paulâs message (persuasion) and living by it (transformation), the Thessalonians did not happen to become imitators; they consciously chose to become imitators.213
A similar argument, that Paul means ethical imitation, is advanced by Abraham Malherbe on the basis of the structure and genre of 1 Thessalonians.214 Malherbe notes that 1 Thessalonians is different from other Pauline letters that consist of a theological and then an ethical part, since the first section is biographical rather than theological. Malherbe attributes this to the intertwining of Paulâs kerygmatic preaching and ethical admonitions: Paul is their personal paradigm, and ârecollecting that earlier association has the philophronetic epistolary function of preparing Paulâs readers for the directions in the second part of the letter.â215 Thus, the mimetic relationship is the basis for Paulâs advice on the Thessaloniansâ ethical progress, and in that sense, the first part of the letter prepares for the second, especially paraenetic part. Furthermore, Malherbe points to parallel philosophical paraenetic letter-essays by Hellenistic moralists based on his analysis of formal functions:
1 Thessalonians 1â3 thus exhibits the characteristics of a paraenetic letter. The description of the readers as μιμηÏαί, the theme of remembrance of what is already known, expressed by οἴδαÏε and μνημονεÏεÏε, the description of Paul himself in antithetical style, the theme of philophronesis, all contribute to this conclusion. (Malherbe 1992, 292)
Confronted with these and similar analyses, Andrew Pitts asks whether these forms are typical for philosophical letter writing or whether they can also be understood in the private letter tradition as recorded in papyri.216 In epistolary handbooks used in education, these two genres are carefully distinguished, Pitts emphasizes, and form and content were supposed to coincide.217 Whereas Pitts, in an effort to account for the differences with ânormalâ epistolary paraenesis, grants that Paul may have creatively dealt with the very particular circumstances, he refrains from allowing him an equal amount of creative licence in adapting philosophical paraenesis to his own needs.
My own approach takes as its starting point not so much similarity in formal characteristics as participation in shared discourses. In this regard, partaking in a shared genre would be an important cue, yet not a condition sine qua non. The overlapping themes and the shared usage of pistis in both corpora suggest that regardless of the specific generic conventions, Paul was indeed informed by the philosophical discourse on moral imitation.
6.4.4 Living in the Pistis (2 Cor 13.5): Imitation of Christ through and in Faith
The question we now turn to is how Christ functions in Paulâs mimetic chain. When Paul speaks of his and his addresseesâ faith in relation to Christ, most of the time, this faith is not the content or imitandum but the means by which the imitation takes place.218 First of all, Paul repeatedly expresses the content of faith in terms of imitation of Christâs death and resurrection. âBut if we have died with Christ, we believe that (ÏιÏÏεÏομεν á½ Ïι) we will also live with himâ (Rom 6.8).219 âFor since we believe that (ÏιÏÏεÏομεν á½ Ïι) Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have diedâ (1 Thes 4.14).220 These short credos imply not merely a cognitive assent to âarticles of faithâ or an assessment of the historicity of the resurrection,221 as the form âbelieve thatâ may suggest, but a conviction or trust that radically alters their mode of life, as it is now linked to Christâs. Whereas assent can be merely on the lips, faith in Christâs resurrection has to take hold in the heart so that a person can be made righteous.222 Even more than a faith in Christâs resurrection per se, it is a faith that the one that resurrected Christ is able to bring his followers to righteousness, for this is credited âto those who trust upon the one that raised Jesus our lord from the deadâ (Rom 4.24: Ïοá¿Ï ÏιÏÏÎµá½»Î¿Ï Ïιν á¼Ïὶ Ïὸν á¼Î³Îµá½·ÏανÏα ἸηÏοῦν Ïὸν κύÏιον ἡμῶν á¼Îº νεκÏῶν). Due to the preposition, pistis is used here as a relational attitude towards God, yet one that implies an internal change, an assimilation to Christ of the inner person. Pistis language connects the attitude of trust with the virtue of faithfulness, in imitation of the prime example of this faithfulness, Christ, who has already âfinished the raceâ.
The imitation is expressed even more strongly as assimilation in the expression âin him we might become the righteousness of Godâ (2 Cor 5.21: ἡμεá¿Ï γενÏμεθα δικαιοÏÏνη θεοῦ á¼Î½ αá½Ïá¿·). Paulâs aim is to âgive birth to his childrenâ as people in whom Christ is formed.223 This formation of Christ in his followers closely parallels pagan homoiÅsis language.224 The same family pattern we saw in relation to âfatherâ Abraham is also adapted to fit the scheme of divine imitation: the followers of Christ are to be conformed to the image of Godâs son (Rom 8.29: ÏÏ Î¼Î¼ÏÏÏÎ¿Ï Ï Ïá¿Ï εἰκÏÎ½Î¿Ï Ïοῦ Ï á¼±Î¿á¿¦ αá½Ïοῦ), the firstborn of many brothers (ÏÏÏÏÏÏοκον á¼Î½ Ïολλοá¿Ï á¼Î´ÎµÎ»Ïοá¿Ï). Hence, God is the father, yet Christ the model.
However, if the model after which they are formed is not resurrected, Paul reasons in the final section of 1 Corinthians, this pistis is âin vainâ (κενὴ) or âfutileâ (μαÏαία) and the act of trust is âpointlessâ (εἰκá¿).225 Resurrection in these statements appears to be conceived of as a vindication, an acknowledgement of achieved perfection of the model, yet also as a âbeing made aliveâ and thus capable of taking up his followers in the same perfection and new life. Since in this argument pistis is connected to âthe messageâ, to âthe proclamationâ, and to Christ being resurrected, it is often deemed highly cognitive here, in the sense of âaccepting as trueâ.226 Yet the reason why faith is in vain without Christ being resurrected makes more sense if Christ is understood as both the immanent deity in contact with the transcendent God and the model after which his followers are âshapedâ into perfect faithfulness. The resurrection is proof of Christâs own perfect faithfulness: proof of his continuing connection to God and proof that his followers can follow his example (including his resurrection).227 This is reminiscent of the concern of philosophical seekers, hoping to find a teacher whose life and death both express their convictions. It is also in accordance with the Middle-Platonic discourse on an immanent, intermediate divinity who may be emulated and upholds the connection to the ultimate divine. (Still, the idea of âimitation in resurrectionâ would cause some pagan eyebrows to be raised.)
Pistis seems to be more of an attitude than a quality in the instances discussed so far, for it is either explicitly directed to Christ and his resurrection as its object or implicitly linked to his perfection, such that without this link it is useless. Conversely, a Stoic like Epictetus would never consider oneâs faithful disposition as useless, for it is not dependent on anything external for its value, including its model. Nevertheless, the importance of the model is very much in accordance with Platonist ontology, according to which Form/model/original and particular/image/copy exist in a mimetic relationship, the copy being dependent for its very being on the original in which it participates.228 To Paul, partial assimilation, becoming a bit more virtuous in this life, is ultimately in vain. The model can only make the copy fully and permanently righteous by conquering the impermanence of life, by conquering death. Therefore, the copy can only make his or her virtue of faithfulness permanent by the relational attitude of faith in the resurrected Christ. Hence, the attitude of faith and the virtue of faith cannot be separated.
An even stronger connection between pistis and this Christ-formed life can be found in Pauline phraseology that has led to some scholars labelling Paul a mystic and has in more general terms been understood as expressing âparticipation in Christâ or âunion with Christâ: Paul repeatedly speaks of living âin Christâ, âin the Lordâ, or âin himâ and, conversely, though less often, of Christ living in him.229 In many of these phrases, that pistis is used in paradigmatic relation to and even as near equivalent of Christ, often preceded by the same preposition (á¼Î½). I would argue that these en pistei expressions fit well within the discourse of moral imitation and âbecoming like Godâ and that the pistis in question is best understood as a virtue perfected by Christ.230
In 2 Corinthians we read the exhortation, âExamine yourselves to see whether you are living in the faith (εἰ á¼ÏÏá½² á¼Î½ Ïá¿ ÏίÏÏει). Test yourselves. Do you not realize that Jesus Christ is in you (á½ Ïι ἸηÏÎ¿á¿¦Ï Î§ÏιÏÏá½¸Ï á¼Î½ á½Î¼á¿Î½)?âunless, indeed, you fail to pass the test!â (2 Cor 13.5). Here, âliving in pistisâ stands in paradigmatic relation to âChristâs being in someoneâ. The context is, as we saw in §5.4.4, one of moral progress: if you participate in pistis, then you are not adokimos, âunfitâ, but do what is good (2 Cor 13.7: Ïὸ καλὸν Ïοιá¿Ïε). Paulâs aim is towards the perfection of his followers (2 Cor 13.9: Ïὴν á½Î¼á¿¶Î½ καÏάÏÏιÏιν). Doing good thus equals being âin the faithâ: here, the virtue of faith is foregrounded, as it is modelled after Christ. Similarly, in Galatians 2.20, Paul states that âit is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in/of the Son of God (á¼Î½ ÏίÏÏει ζῶ Ïá¿ Ïοῦ Ï á¼±Î¿á¿¦ Ïοῦ θεοῦ).â This last instance of pistis is one of the pistis Christou formulations, to which I shall return in the next paragraph, yet for now it suffices to point out that âliving in pistisâ is again used to explicate the phenomenon of Christ living in his followers.
Hellenistic-Jewish notions of the divine wisdom indwelling in human beings highlight a relevant context for this vocabulary. Yet, the parallel with Senecaâs âinterveningâ God is perhaps even more adequate, since it shares the same reciprocity inherent to these Pauline expressions.231 Senecaâs God comes not only near, but inside people in the form of divine seeds that, if cultivated, spring up in the likeness of their source. Accordingly, in Paul, the Christ-follower being in Christ is simultaneously Christ dwelling in the believer, which effects this âbeliefâ to be more than an outward-facing, trusting attitude. Pistis, in these instances, also seems to stand for Christâs faithful disposition that is appropriated in the lives of his followers: it springs up in Christâs likeness.
Moreover, acting according to faith is acting like God as well as acting like Christ, as is evident from the admonition to âwelcome him who is weak according to faithâ (Rom 14.1: Ïὸν δὲ á¼ÏθενοῦνÏα Ïá¿ ÏίÏÏει ÏÏοÏλαμβάνεÏθε), with the rationale that âGod has welcomed himâ (14.3), a theme upon which a variation is later made to âwelcome one another, just as Christ has welcomed youâ (Rom 15.7: ÏÏοÏλαμβάνεÏθε á¼Î»Î»Î®Î»Î¿Ï Ï, ÎºÎ±Î¸á½¼Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ ὠΧÏιÏÏá½¸Ï ÏÏοÏελάβεÏο á½Î¼á¾¶Ï). âIn faithâ or âaccording to faithâ is here shorthand for the attitude towards Christ that simultaneously appropriates his divinely faithful, welcoming behaviour.232
There is an interesting text in 2 Timothy, one of the (probably deutero-Pauline) Pastoral Epistles, that supports the possibility of pistis being a dispositional quality, referring to Christâs faithfulness. This text draws an analogy between Christ and the human imitator. Introduced by a technical introduction peculiar to the Pastorals, âthis teaching is trustworthyâ (2 Tim 2.11: ÏιÏÏá½¸Ï á½ Î»ÏγοÏ), the conditions are put forward that if the human âweâ is like Christ in his death and enduring, so will this âweâ also be like him in his life and reigning. But it becomes interesting if the âweâ deviates from the pattern of imitation: in case of a denial, this is again mirrored by a denial of Christ. Yet, if âweâ are being unfaithful (εἰ á¼ÏιÏÏοῦμεν), the pattern is interrupted: âhe remains faithful (á¼ÎºÎµá¿Î½Î¿Ï ÏιÏÏá½¸Ï Î¼Îνει)âfor he cannot deny himselfâ (2 Tim 2.13).233 This demonstrates that for one, also in the days in which the Pastorals were written, the language of imitation was still prevalent. What is more, the consequences of each oneâs role in this imitation were being duly considered: as a model, Christ could interact with his imitators, but not to the point of abnegating his own virtue. Finally, we learn that, according to the author, who is probably reflecting on a wider known teaching, Christ is pistos, so much so that it is an undeniable, inseparable part of his disposition.234 And this faithfulness of Christ is thought of in a context where a relationship of imitation is the topic under consideration.
To sum up, then, we have seen that in the position of the Christ-follower, pistis can refer to both the attitude of faith (trust, belief, conviction, commitment) directed at Christ and the quality of faithfulness (trustworthiness, loyalty) modelled after Christ. Furthermore, through the lens of the motive of imitation, these are not mutually exclusive, as the attitude is the starting point for a relationship in which imitation and participation come to fruition.
Now the question left in the minds of those at home in the pistis Christou debate is, did Paul also think of Christ as having an attitude of faith in God? Based solely on the starting point of âsustained ambiguityâ, there is no reason to separate his faith from his faithfulness. Furthermore, there is even some textual evidence to suggest that Christ was indeed thought of as having beliefs and that his followers imitated these beliefs as well. In an insightful article titled â2 Corinthians and the ΠίÏÏÎ¹Ï Î§ÏίÏÏÎ¿Ï Debateâ (purposefully different from all the âneglected evidenceâ variants), Kenneth Schenck draws attention to Paulâs citation from the Psalms (see on this section also §2.4.3 and §4.4.3 above):235
But just as we have the same spirit of faith (Ïὸ αá½Ïὸ Ïνεῦμα Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ) that is in accordance with scriptureââI believed, and so I spoke (á¼ÏίÏÏÎµÏ Ïα, διὸ á¼Î»Î¬Î»Î·Ïα)ââwe also believe (ÏιÏÏεÏομεν), and so we speak, because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus. (2 Corinthians 4.13â14a)
Schenck argues that if we try to capture the logic behind Paulâs reasoning, it makes most sense if we take Paul as having understood this quote to be voiced by Christ and not, as is often assumed, by the Psalmist: Paulâs own belief is thus an imitation of Christâs belief that God would resurrect him.236 Schenck hence repeatedly speaks of âJesusâs faith as exemplary for human faithâ, even though he never explores the wider context of the imitation motive in Paul, let alone his cultural surroundings.237 As is, I hope, sufficiently clear by now, from the Hellenistic-Roman background of practising philosophy, imitation of a master in character, mind, faith, and even speech was indeed considered indispensable.
6.4.5 Pistis Christou: Faithfulness to God Mediated by Faith in Christ, Modelled after Christâs Faith
Now that we have seen how Paul envisions a chain of imitations in and by pistis leading up to Christ as the ultimate model, we may ask how his idea of God fits into this evolving scene of student-master-sage imitation. We have already seen how God is explicitly viewed by Paul as the object of human faith (1 Thes 1.8: ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á½Î¼á¿¶Î½ ἡ ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïὸν θεὸν). Is God also considered a moral paradigm, particularly regarding pistis, in the Pauline literature?
In contrast to many of our philosophical references on homoiÅsis theÅi, Paul does not mention God as the object of imitation. Paul never comes so close as to conceptualize an actual âassimilation to Godâ. Compared with the author of 2 Peter (see 2 Pet 1.4: Î¸ÎµÎ¯Î±Ï ÎºÎ¿Î¹Î½Ïνοὶ ÏÏÏεÏÏ), and particularly in light of later Byzantine thought on deification and theÅsis, Paul is careful to limit his mimÄsis language to Christ.238 In this sense, by distinguishing Christ-in-the-cosmos from God-in-the-heavens, his thought is more in line with the Platonic than with the Stoic participants in this discourse. We already observed in chapter 4, though, that God is regularly praised for being pistos and that all four of these cases concern the stability or perfection of the faithful.239 In each case, the stable faithfulness of God, expressed by the adjective pistos, functions not so much as the model, but rather as guarantee for the stability, trustworthiness, and ultimate perfection of the Christ-community. Although Paulâs addressees can be considered âstudents of Godâ or âtaught by Godâ (θεοδίδακÏοί),240 which suggests a certain immediacy and a lack of intermediate human teachers in their moral education, imitation of God per se or of Godâs pistis is not part of Paulâs (extant) vocabulary.241
In Godâs place, we encounter Christ as a mediating intermediary in contexts of imitation, comparable to the sage in Stoicism, the deus mortalis in Epicureanism, and the âGod in the heavensâ in Middle Platonism. As I argued above (§6.3.4), all philosophical traditions recognized the need for some kind of human example, if only, as in Platonism, to recall the soulâs own prenatal glimpse of the virtues themselves. Paul, too, acknowledges this need when he quotes from the book of Isaiah that humanity has no access to the âmind of the Lordâ; yet, he continues, âwe have the mind of Christâ (1 Cor 2.16).242 Instead of taking oneâs refuge in âimages resembling mortal human beingsâ (Rom 1.23), Christ is the proper âimage of Godâ (2 Cor 4.4) to which his followers will be conformed (2 Cor 3.18; Rom 8.29). This distinction between imitation of illusory and true images perfectly fits the Platonic scheme.
In Paulâs line of thought, however, the assimilation to the divine first requires a descent. Mirroring the descent of God (or even of personified Fides) to earth and into human minds in our Graeco-Roman sources, Christ is Paulâs image of God that came to the earth so that humans may share in his divine mind (cf. Phil 2.5â11). In his comprehensive study into language of âimage of Godâ and âbeing made like Godâ, George van Kooten concludes that âas Christ is the image of God, and man, by becoming of the same form as Christ participates in this image, the homoiÅsis ChristÅi is the intermediary stage in the process of assimilation to God.â243 To allow for such an assimilation, the pre-existent Christ first needed to take on the âlikeness of manâ (Phil 2.7: á¼Î½ á½Î¼Î¿Î¹ÏμαÏι á¼Î½Î¸ÏÏÏÏν γενÏμενοÏ).244 This seems to be a move that is unparalleled in the pagan discourse of homoiÅsis, especially in its drastic form of slavery and suffering (cf. Phil 2.7â8), a kenÅsis that is mirrored by Paul, who presents his own efforts as libation upon the offering of the Philippiansâ faith (Phil 2.17, on which cf. §2.4.2 above). Imitation of Christâs suffering thus seems to coincide with imitation of Christâs faithfulness (cf. Phil 1.29: οὠμόνον Ïὸ Îµá¼°Ï Î±á½Ïὸν ÏιÏÏεύειν á¼Î»Î»á½° καὶ Ïὸ á½Ïá½²Ï Î±á½Ïοῦ Ïá½±ÏÏειν).
It is from this role of Christ as intermediary in imitation, as image of Godâs faithfulness to humanity and model for human faith in and faithfulness to God at the same time, that the sustained ambiguity of the pistis Christou phrases may be brought to the fore. It will be the purpose of these final paragraphs to briefly discuss how, in all four passages in which the seven pistis Christou phrases are used, the discourse of imitation is present.
First, in Philippians Paul refers to his own righteousness as âone that comes through pistis in/of Christ (Ïὴν διὰ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ Î§ÏιÏÏοῦ), the righteousness from God based on pistis (Ïὴν á¼Îº θεοῦ δικαιοÏÏνην á¼Ïὶ Ïá¿ ÏίÏÏει)â (Phil 3.9). He continues by expressing his wish to âknow Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death (ÏÏ Î¼Î¼Î¿ÏÏιζÏÎ¼ÎµÎ½Î¿Ï Ïá¿· θανάÏῳ αá½Ïοῦ), if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the deadâ (Phil 3.10â11). We already saw that Paul often expresses belief in this mimetic pattern of sharing in Christâs life and death and that he expects this attitude of faith to alter his life and become Christ-like as a performative, mimetic act. Attitude, faith in Christ, and quality, a âChrist-likeâ faithful disposition, thus come together in the act of imitation.245 Even more explicitly, the topos of imitation is confirmed a few sentences further, where we find Paulâs call for imitation: âJoin in imitating me (Î£Ï Î¼Î¼Î¹Î¼Î·Ïαί Î¼Î¿Ï Î³Î¯Î½ÎµÏθε), and observe those who live according to the example you have in us (ÎºÎ±Î¸á½¼Ï á¼ÏεÏε ÏÏÏον ἡμᾶÏ)â (Phil 3.17, see §6.4.3).
Then there are two pistis Christou occurrences in Galatians (2.16 and 3.22). With the first, the imitation motive is evident in this section of the letter (2.15â21) from the identification of Paul with Christâs crucifixion, being literally âco-crucified (ÏÏ Î½ÎµÏÏαÏÏÏμαι)â, and subsequent life: âand it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by pistis in/of the Son of God (á¼Î½ ÏίÏÏει ζῶ Ïá¿ Ïοῦ Ï á¼±Î¿á¿¦ Ïοῦ θεοῦ),246 who loved me and gave himself for meâ (Gal 2.20). The ambiguity of pistis here can hardly be missed: if Christ lives in âmeâ, then âmyâ pistis is an imitation of his pistis. Paulâs disposition is participating in Christâs own, characterized by pistis and self-giving love. At the same time, it is Christâs faithfulness (2.16: διὰ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ ΧÏιÏÏοῦ) and Paulâs trust in Christââwe have come to trust in Christ Jesus (2.16: Îµá¼°Ï Î§ÏιÏÏὸν ἸηÏοῦν á¼ÏιÏÏεÏÏαμεν)ââthat paves the way for this process of imitation.247 Christâs faithfulness is the model that prompts imitation, starting on the side of his followers with an act of commitment to Christ expressed by the ingressive aorist.
A little further in the same letter, we read that âwhat was promised through pistis in/of Jesus Christ might be given to those who trustâ (Gal 3.22). In the following sentence, Paul states thatânot unlike Italicusâs dramatic return of Fides to the oppressed people on a âdefiled earthâ (pollutas (â¦) terras)248 âPistis also needs to return to âall that is under the power of sin (Ïá½° ÏάνÏα á½Ïὸ á¼Î¼Î±ÏÏίαν)â, in order for this transference of faith(fulness) to be effective, and âsheâ returns simultaneously with Christâs coming (3.22â25). It is indeed significant that Paul âinterchanges âpistisâ and âChristâ as though the two are synonymsâ.249 The consequences for the believers are further explicated as âin Christ you are all children of God through faithâ (ÏάνÏÎµÏ Î³á½°Ï Ï á¼±Î¿á½¶ θεοῦ á¼ÏÏε διὰ Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á¼Î½ ΧÏιÏÏá¿· ἸηÏοῦ) and you have âclothed yourselves with Christâ (ΧÏιÏÏὸν á¼Î½ÎµÎ´ÏÏαÏθε) (Gal 3.26â27). Both metaphors are perfectly at home in a mimetic setting. As children, you ideally mirror your parentsâ, not your disciplinarianâs, virtue. But even more so, by putting on other peopleâs clothes, you impersonate their character. Similarly, in Romans, the addressees are urged to âput on Jesus Christâ (13.14: á¼Î½Î´ÏÏαÏθε Ïὸν κÏÏιον ἸηÏοῦν ΧÏιÏÏÏν) which is then explicated as leading a life free of drunkenness, promiscuity, quarrelling, and other vices. The transformative power of pistis Christou serves as an equalizer in status and in ethical lifestyle.
The connection between putting on new clothes and homoiÅsis theÅi is confirmed in the (deutero-)Pauline tradition: in Ephesians we read how the new life consists of being taught in Jesus (4.21: á¼Î½ αá½Ïá¿· á¼Î´Î¹Î´Î¬ÏθηÏε) and âcloth[ing] yourselves with the new self, created according to the likeness of God (á¼Î½Î´ÏÏαÏθαι Ïὸν καινὸν á¼Î½Î¸ÏÏÏον Ïὸν καÏá½° θεὸν κÏιÏθÎνÏα) in true righteousness and holiness (á¼Î½ δικαιοÏÏνῠκαὶ á½ÏιÏÏηÏι Ïá¿Ï á¼Î»Î·Î¸ÎµÎ¯Î±Ï).â The reference to the virtues of âtrueâ righteousness and holiness may very well be a play on Platoâs famous homoiÅsis passage in the Theaetetus.250 At any rate, this understanding within the wider âPauline schoolâ demonstrates that pistis Christou, imitating Christ by means of and in his pistis, was seen as an intermediary step in âbecoming like Godâ, even if for Paul, talk of being âmodelled after Godâ would perhaps be a bridge too far.
The fourth passage in which two pistis Christou variants are used (Rom 3.22, 3.26) has been discussed in chapter 3 (esp. §3.4.3 on Christ as âliving lawâ). In this letter as a whole, the theme of imitation is less evident. Nevertheless, we have seen some examples of âputting onâ Christ and perhaps of âbelievingâ like Christ in later sections of the letter (see §6.4.4). Perhaps the absence in Romans of specific interhuman imitation may be attributed to the addresseesâ unfamiliarity with Paul: the admonition to imitate the apostle would be a less appropriate topic.251 In the passage at hand, Paul explains that the âdemonstration of Godâs justice/righteousnessâ exists for two purposes: to show himself as being just and to make âthose out of pistis Christouâ just (Rom 3.26: Îµá¼°Ï Ïὸ εἶναι αá½Ïὸν δίκαιον καὶ δικαιοῦνÏα Ïὸν á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ). Put in imitation language, God is the ultimate example of righteousness and cause of transforming people into exemplars of this same righteousness.252 Justice thus functions (not unlike faithfulness) as a quality and action of God which is supposed to be mirrored by humans.
In fact, both terms are used in parallel in the immediate context:
What if some were unfaithful (εἰ á¼ Ïá½·ÏÏηÏάν ÏινεÏ)? Will their faithlessness nullify the faithfulness of God (μὴ ἡ á¼ÏιÏÏία αá½Ïῶν Ïὴν Ïá½·ÏÏιν Ïοῦ θεοῦ καÏαÏγήÏει)? (â¦) But if our injustice serves to confirm the justice of God (εἰ δὲ ἡ á¼Î´Î¹Îºá½·Î± ἡμῶν θεοῦ δικαιοÏύνην ÏÏ Î½á½·ÏÏηÏιν), what should we say? That God is unjust to inflict wrath on us? (Romans 3.3,5)
I will come back to the usage of apistia in this passage (in §8.4.1 below), but for now, it is good to note the usage of pistis and dikaiosynÄ together as qualities of God in relationship with humans. The parallelism in this passage is evident: Godâs virtues, qualities, or actions of justice and faithfulness (both subjective genitives) as well as his truthfulness (3.7) are not matched by his people. This, however, as Paulâs argument goes, does not make God unjust, unfaithful, or untruthful; in the words of Richard Hays, who also emphasizes this parallelism, âthe righteousness God consists in his persistence in keeping his covenant intact in spite of unfaithfulness.â253 Paul continues this argument for the justice of God by stating that this justice is now again confirmed in the present age through Jesusâs faithfulness. Even more, this type of righteousness and faithfulness in a covenantal relationship can now be mirrored by âthe one who lives out of Jesusâs faithfulnessâ (Rom 3.26: Ïὸν á¼Îº Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ). Paulâs teaching that this âoneâ includes Jews and Greeks alike is thus no threat to Godâs justice in the world, as his opponents may argue, but a confirmation of this justice. As Paul explicates (in my rather interpretative translation): âthe justice of God (δικαιοÏύνη δὲ θεοῦ) made evident through the faithfulness of Jesus Christ (διὰ Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ ΧÏιÏÏοῦ) for all those who join in this faithfulness (Îµá¼°Ï ÏάνÏÎ±Ï ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ ÏιÏÏεύονÏαÏ), for there is no distinctionâ (Rom 3.22).254
If we take the idea of imitation seriously in this passage, there is no room for the âredundancy-argumentâ made by subjective-genitive proponents, which entails that both terms in this sentence must mean different things, for else Paul would have been more concise. In light of the discourse presented in this chapter, Christâs pistis and âall the pisteuontesâ stand in a relationship of model to particular. Considering the justice, faithfulness, and truthfulness of God, which are at stake in this section of the letter, both pistis terms refer to the human side of the partnership or covenant, and this response may be rendered as âfaithâ but perhaps somewhat more accurately as âfaithfulnessâ.
In the end (to be sure), I do not mean to imply that moral imitation is a sufficient context for any one of these four passages or even these phrases. Evidently the semantic domain of law and justice plays an important part as well, as I already pointed out in chapter 3. In fact, we have already seen how the discourse of the return of justice is closely connected to the discourse of moral imitation via the discourse of the âliving lawâ, so these domains and discourses are by no means mutually exclusive (see §3.4.3). My aim here, however, is to offer a specific reading, making use of a related and partly overlapping semantic domain, which connects the pistis Christou phrases in a manner relevant to the philosophical practice and intellectual topos of imitation of each other, teachers, sages, gods, and, ultimately, God.
6.5 Conclusion
To sum up, we have seen how the theme and practice of moral imitation pervaded the familial, educational, and public spheres of the Roman Empire in the days of Paul. In the more specific context of philosophical schools, real-life imitation between students and masters was considered of paramount importance. Most importantly, in both contexts pistis is used either as referring to a dispositional quality to model oneâs character on or as an attitude towards a model. Within philosophical circles, âbecoming like Godâ was a widely used ethical aim, to which all traditions in one way or another invoked the help of lesser divine or higher human intermediaries. One could even imitate the divine in being pistos or having fides.
In the letters of Paul, we first saw how the communities he addressed were admonished to actively engage in training virtue, including the virtue of faith (which is not (yet) used in the sense of a unified kerygmatic complex). Next, I distinguished between the layers of interhuman imitation, human imitation of Christ, and imitation of God. Whereas in interhuman relations, faith is not typically used as an attitude towards an example, in reference to Christ, pistis language seems to form the basis for a relationship of imitation and identification, including imitation of his faith in resurrection and his faithfulness towards God. Finally, I argued that Godâs own trustworthiness has everything to do with the human movement towards trustworthiness and perfection. At the same time, in Paulâs letters imitation of God takes place through the intermediate model of Christ, who actively and perfectly played the human part so that we are enabled to enact his. In presenting Christ as the necessary and ultimate model, Paul follows the path set out by the Platonic tradition (including Philo), which explicitly separates the highest level of transcendence from inner-cosmic divine models.
In the immediate context of the pistis Christou formulations, there are ample clues to support my claim that the Graeco-Roman ideal of imitation and assimilation sets the stage for understanding the ambiguity in these phrases. According to Paulâs mimetic logic, Christâs faithfulness to God (and perhaps his faithfulness to the cosmos) becomes the faithfulness of Christâs followers through their faith in him. The discourse set out in this chapter gives rise to an understanding of Pauline pistis as a fundamental disposition, focused on Christâa disposition that was cultivated by continuous practice, that was conveyed by a process of imitation, mediated by Christ and Christ-teachers, ultimately focused on God.
Cf. for a more recent defence of this contrast, cf. Moo 2013, 210, commenting on Galatians 3: âThe Reformers, therefore, were entirely justified to find in Paulâs argument here a fundamental and universally valid principle about the exclusive value of believing versus doing.â
In contrast to popular belief, this judgement was made only by comparison, and the letter was not deemed completely worthless or unbiblical, as Lutherâs own preaching demonstrates: see Wengert 2015.
See e.g. Lane 2004, 237â238; Fink 2010, 213â214.
Cf. e.g. Chester 2017, 162â164.
This is the route I also took in §3.4.3, on participation in and imitation of the living law, Jesus Christ.
This is the conclusion of Wright 2008, 489: âFaith, then, is indeed a virtue. It demands hard work, not because it isnât a gift, but because it is; not because it isnât authentically flowing from within us, but because it is.â
Hatch 1917, 32.
The seven occurrences have slight variations in phrasing: διὰ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ ΧÏιÏÏοῦ (Gal 2.16); á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ Î§ÏιÏÏοῦ (Gal 2.16); á¼Î½ ÏίÏÏει (â¦) Ïá¿ Ïοῦ Ï á¼±Î¿á¿¦ Ïοῦ θεοῦ (Gal 2.20); á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ ΧÏιÏÏοῦ (Gal 3.22); διὰ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ Î§ÏιÏÏοῦ (Phil 3.9); διὰ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ ΧÏιÏÏοῦ (Rom 3.22); á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ (Rom 3.26).
In an exchange of views published in the SBL Symposium Series, both Hays (supporting the subjective genitive reading) and Dunn (supporting the objective genitive reading) held that the phrase itself is inconclusive, though each also maintains that the outcome of the grammatical arguments favours his own interpretation: see Hays 1997, 39 (reprinted as appendix in Hays 2002, 272â297) and Dunn 2002, 67 (reprinted as appendix in Hays 2002, 249â271).
For an overview of these and other theological concerns, see Hays 1997, 55â57.
This Dutch discussion, together with some other early pistis Christou debates, was dusted off by Benjamin Schliesser (Schliesser 2015, 76â83).
See Wernink 1858, and see a contemporary Dutch review of this monograph (V.P. 1859, 302): âDus wordt tegenover de Groninger School gehandhaafd, dat Ïá½·ÏÏÎ¹Ï en ÏιÏÏεύειν niet door vertrouwen, maar door geloof en gelooven behooren te worden overgezet, en dat ze, met Îµá¼°Ï verbonden, niet iets innigs, eene naauwe aansluiting en overgave te kennen geven, maar eenvoudig een gelooven met betrekking tot (in de rigting naar); terwijl ook de Leidsche School, wanneer zij de Ïá½·ÏÏÎ¹Ï á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ ΧÏιÏÏοῦ door geloof in God verklaart, hetzij gelijk Christus dat zelf gehad heeft, of welâbeterâwaarvan Hij de bewerker is, zich den haast gewonnen zegepalm betwist ziet door eene kloeke verdediging der interpretatio recepta, die hier het geloof in J.C. zelven bedoeld acht.â
A comprehensive overview of the current situation, including âboth sides of the storyâ is offered by Bird and Sprinkle (2009), and cf. for the latest state Gupta 2020a. Ulrichsâs Christusglaube (2007) ultimately defends the âfaith in Christâ position while incorporating New Perspective insights. Ulrichsâs work is rich in biblical exegesis, yet very minimal in contextualizing Paulâs language in extra-biblical sources (all non-biblical sources fit on one page in the register and as for pagan material, it only mentions one text from Plutarch and two by Thucydides). Another recent contribution by Downs and Lappenga argues âthat the Pauline expression ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï Î§ÏιÏÏοῦ and related variants refer primarily to the faithfulness of the risen Christ Jesus who will remain faithful to those who, in their own faith, are justified through union with Christ, raised and exaltedâ (2019, 3).
Cf. the conclusion of an overview of arguments in Easter 2010, 42: âinterpreters resort either intentionally or unintentionally to their larger models for reading Paul that are already in place.â
Granted, this Mediterranean model will form nothing but an even wider circle with the Pauline material, yet I presume that at least here, the amount and variety of the sources will leave less room for ideological presuppositions.
As formulated literally by Matlock (2007, 177) and Barclay (2015, 380: âThe phrase is helpfully disambiguated by Paul himself in the centre of 2.16 by the appearance of the verb, used not of Christ but of believersâ), yet implied by many others. Thomas Schumacher emphasizes the reciprocity of pistis throughout his comprehensive monograph (2012), yet opts for an interpretation of pistis Christou as a subjective genitive âbei dem die ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï auf die Zuwendung Jesu Christi zu den Menschen bezogen istâ (463). Michael Wolter (2017, 365) dismisses both subjective and objective readings; his alternative of a genitivus qualitatis, Christ-faith (âals metonymische Umschreibung für das Christusgeschehenâ), comes close to the interpretation argued here, yet remains quite cognitive (cf. my response to Wolter in §7.4.1 infra) and lacks the reciprocal dynamic inherent to the classical process of imitation.
Torrance also suggests that when we read words like pistis or dikaiosynÄ, âwe must see behind them the Hebrew wordsâ (1957, 112), a reasoning rightly addressed and rebutted in Barr 1961, 201â205.
An even earlier warning not to choose between a subjective and an objective genitive can be found in Schmitz 1924, on pistis Christou see 91â134.
Hays 1997, 58; cf. Hays 1983, 174â175: âWe should be willing to recognize that Paulâs language may sometimes be ambiguous by design, allowing him to speak in one breath of Christâs faith and our faith.â
Matlock 2000, 16; cf. Matlock 2002, 315, building on linguistic theory as explained by Cruse (2000).
See Barr 1961, 218.
Friedrich 1982, 105: âGlaube im Neuen Testament ist Christusglaube, Glaube durch Christus und Glaube an Christus. Er ist durch Christus entstanden, auf Christus gerichtet und an Christus gebunden.â Smith 2015, 174: âunderstanding a concept does not always require us to choose one meaning at the expense of another meaning. Sometimes, to understand pistis in a given context, you need to take into account both senses of the word: faith and faithfulness.â Jewett 2007, 277â278: âneither of the strict construals matches what the original audience would have understood. I wonder whether the ambiguity may have been intentional on Paulâs partâ. Schliesser 2016, 289: âAdhering too slavishly to the rubrics of grammarians hampers oneâs comprehension of the formulation in question, since it neither acknowledges the complexity of the Greek genitive nor the originality of Paulâs language.â Of these four, Schliesser has developed the most comprehensive account on pistis Christou as an âeschatological eventâ, on which see also §3.4.1 supra. This view, however, seems to fit the occurrence in Galatians yet is less well-suited to the âimitativeâ contexts of the others: see §6.4.5 below.
âDa nach dem oben Bemerkten der Genitiv nur ganz allgemein die Zusammengehörigkeit zweier Begriffe zum Ausdrucke bringt, anderseits aber die grammatischen Kategorien des gen. possessivus, objectivus, partitivus u. s. w. keineswegs scharf gegeneinander abzugrenzen sind. (â¦) Auch muss zugestanden werden, dass überhaupt nicht alle Genitive sich bequem in das von den Grammatikern aufgestellte Schema einzwängen lassen.â
Bryan 2000, 109, on pistis Christou, see 108â111.
Moulton & Turner 1963, 210.
See Downing 2010, 146: âWhen Seneca discourses on tranquillity, providence, constancy, anger, clemency; or Plutarch on education, tranquillity, friendship, fortune, virtue and vice, marriage; or Dio of Prusa on kingship, tyranny, virtue, usefulness, or faith (ÏεÏὶ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ), no word and no set of words âencapsulatesâ let alone itself defines âthe ideaâ. It is always outside and beyond the words; and, a fortiori, there is no attempt to discriminateâlet alone then to prioritise and excludeâvarious possible senses, connotations, of the various individual terms deployed, nor does there seem to be on any other topic.â On the Stoic interest in ambiguity as a result of their general philosophical outlook, see Atherton 2007, chapter 3, âMorality Talks: The Origins and Limits of Stoic Interest in Ambiguityâ (39â130).
Cf. Downing 2010, 155â156: âWhat is ruled out, then, it is here argued, is any hard precision, any clear lines between possible connotations of particular words, the kinds of âniceâ distinctions desired in some theological or ideological discourse. In interpreting sympathetically our ancient texts it will, rather and almost inevitably, be a matter of discerning family resemblances among uses of particular lexemes.â
McFadden 2015, 257, quoting Silva 1994, 150.
That Paul exploits the ambiguity of terms has also been noted in regard to different words and passages, see e.g. (with regard to καÏοÏÏÏÎ¯Î¶Ï and καÏαÏγÎÏ) Stockhausen 1989, 127: âThe wisest course is simply to admit that when Paul uses an ambiguous term or form, he means to play upon that very ambiguity. We must allow him to do so.â
Agamben 2005, 131: âwe have to venture something like a performative efficacy of the word of faith realized in its very pronouncement.â
Hays 1997, 38.
Morgan 2015, 292â294. Cf. on imitation and pistis langauge p. 257, n. 162: âThough imitation (of God, Christ, or those entrusted with authority) is not often connected explicitly with pistis language here or elsewhere in the New Testament, imitation can be seen as one way in which human beings learn how to respond to the pistis that God and Christ extend to them.â
Pace Michaelis 1968, who views this text not as an example of personal imitation but of emphasizing obedience to Paulâs authority (esp. at 669). Cf. below, in this section and in §6.5.2.
On the imbalance in Michaelisâs division, and his preference for authority even in passages he earlier listed as examples of the second category, see Dodd 1999, 19, 29.
I omit the publications relating to the usage of literary or rhetorical exempla by Paul, such as Mitchell 1991, 39â60 and Smit 2013, 16â30. I have also purposefully left out some publications I refer to in the remainder of this chapter, relating to more specific points, in order to keep this overview brief and coherent.
Stanley 1959, 877.
Stanley 1959, 859.
De Boer 1962, esp. his conclusions on p. 211.
De Boer 1962, 215. Cf. §5.4.4 supra on pistis and growing towards maturity.
Getty 1990, 283, 278, 279, respectively.
Brant 1993, 299.
Sanders 1981.
Fiore 1986, esp. chapter 7, âExample in the Letters of Paulâ (164â190). See esp. at 190: âhe aims at imitation rather than obedience of this authoritative prescriptions.â Dodd (1999, 23â26) notes that Fiore is not entirely consistent in his evaluation of Paulâs motive of exercising authority. On (my response to) Fioreâs interpretation of 1 Thes 1.6, see §6.4.3 below.
Reinhartz 1987, 403.
Malherbe 1989, 57.
Castelli 1991, 87.
Clarke 1998, 359.
Dodd 1999, 29â30.
Dodd 1999, 237.
Copan 2007, 181â218.
Copan 2007, 40â71.
Castelli 1991, 114; Ellington 2011, 313.
Williams 2014.
The references to theatre, stage, (en)acting, audience, and such which I use here are merely metaphors to conveniently describe the idea of a real-life associative context. A case can and has been made, however, for viewing Paulâs imitation (or mimÄsis) language (esp. in Philippians) against precisely this backdrop of the Graeco-Roman love for theatrics and dramatics: see Eastman 2008 and cf. the perspective of the visual and ritual elements in Pauline imitation offered by Jane Heath, who argues âthat Paul is presenting himself in [2 Cor] 4.7â12 as an âimage of Christâ, closely associated with the iconic character of Christ himselfâ (Heath 2009, 276).
E.g. Williams 1987, 446: âChristian faith is Christ-faith, that relationship to God which Christ exemplified, that life-stance which he actualized and which, because he lived and died, now characterizes the personal existence of everyone who lives in him. Christ is not the âobjectâ of such faith, however, but rather its supreme exemplarâindeed, its creator.â
For these reservations and their rebuttal, see Hooker 1989, 323. This also seems to be the rationale behind Haysâs critique (1997, 52) of Williams: âhe downplays the vicarious elements of Paulâs story of salvation. I would prefer to speak less of Jesus as âexemplarâ and somewhat more of Jesus as the ÏÏÎÏμα (âseedâ) whose apocalyptic destiny of death and resurrection reshapes the destiny of those who are now âinâ him.â
Hooker 2016, 53; cf. Hooker 1989 and Hooker 1990, chapter 14, âPistis Christouâ (165â186).
Hooker 1989, 323: âparticipation is a much better word than imitationâ; Hooker 1990, 92: âOf course this is not imitation, it is conformityâ; Hooker 1990, 183: âit is thus a question of sharing in what Christ is, not a question of imitation.â
Translation Lightfoot 1889. This part has been preserved in Latin translation, not in the extant Greek manuscripts.
Translation Roberts & Donaldson 1869.
Morrison 2014, 47 (cf. 42): âOn balance, Paul had little to say about mimetic mediation in nature or in art, but he was passionately concerned with the area between nature and art: the area of moral reproduction.â
Harrison 2013, citation from p. 214.
Harrison 2013, 213â214. Cf. for an elaborate overview of literature on the ancient aesthetics debate his n. 1 at p. 213. Among the exceptions, Harrison fails to include Van Kooten 2008.
Cf.: âThus, another significant status-indicator of the âgreat manâ in antiquityârhetorical eloquenceâis here debunked by Paulâs graphic portrayal of his self-lowering on behalf of othersâ (251). And cf.: âMoreover, in confining the paradigm of imitation to Christ alone (â¦), Paul undermines the centrality of imperial mimesis in the first centuryâ (252).
Cf. âan unexpected reversal of cultural expectationsâ (242), âradical reversal of human standardsâ (245), âa reversal of social customâ (250), and the articleâs title for âinversionâ.
See e.g. on intertextuality and imitation MacDonald 2001; on education and imitation Cribiore 2001, 132â136 and Witherington III 2011, 76â78; on imitation and rhetoric Smit 2013, 16â30; on imitation in rhetoric, education and literature Fiore 1986, 26â44.
Most famous, perhaps, is the advice of Scipioâs father at the end of Ciceroâs On the Republic (6.16) to âlike your grandfather here, like me, practise justice and piety which are indeed strictly due to parents and kinsmen, but most of all to the fatherlandâ (ut avus hic tuus, ut ego, qui te genui, iustitiam cole et pietatem, quae cum magna in parentibus et propinquis, tum in patria maxima est). Cf. on moral education and the imitation of ancestors Marrou 1956, 234â236. Some excellent examples of the imitation of ancestral glory have been collected by Harrison (2013, 223â228).
Cicero, De officiis 1.121.
Cicero, On the Orator 2.343â344. See §3.3.1 above.
In fact, according to Seneca (Epistles 94.51), their fingers were first âheld and guided by others so that they may follow the outlines of the letters; next, they are ordered to imitate a copy and base thereon a style of penmanship.â Yet even an experienced orator still had models, and not to imitate rhetorical excellence could be seen as sign of stupidity, as Pliny the Younger wrote (Letters 1.5): ââPersonally I do try to copy Cicero,â I said, âand am not satisfied with the oratory of today. It seems to me foolish not to model oneself on the highest standards.ââ
For Plutarchâs and Senecaâs usage of exempla, see Brenk 2007.
Quintilian, The Oratorâs Education 2.2.8.
Cf. Quintilian, The Oratorâs Education 12.2.27: âif indeed he is to attain perfection by the merits both of his life and of his eloquenceâ; 12.2.31: âNo one can be a perfect orator who does not both understand the language of honour and have the courage to use it (qui honeste dicere et sciet et audebit).â
Plutarchâs Vitae are not all meant as examples to imitate directly, though. As noted by Christopher Pelling (1988, 274), sometimes, â[t]he moralism (â¦) is of a different sort, rather closer to that of tragedy: this is a more descriptive moralism, pointing a truth of human experience rather than building a model for crude imitation or avoidance.â See, on the multivalence in the Lives and the critical position Plutarch expects of his readers, Duff 2011. On the moral purpose of Valerius Maximus, see Skidmore 1996.
Plutarch, Aemilius Paulus 2.6; Dionysius van Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 2.75.3. See §3.3.3 above.
E.g. Xenophon, Cyropaedia 8.1.21 (âhe believed that he could in no way more effectively inspire a desire for the beautiful and the good than by endeavouring, as their sovereign, to set before his subjects a perfect model of virtue in his own personâ); Anaximenes of Lampsacus, Rhetoric to Alexander 1420b7 (âIt will be necessary for you to know that for most people either the law or your life and speech are models (ÏαÏαδείγμαÏá½±).â)
Plutarch, To an Uneducated Ruler 780D.
Plutarch, Cato the Younger 44.7â8. See also §3.3.1 above.
Apud Stobaeus, Anthologium 3.1.173 (128 and 142, respectively).
See Bultmann 1910, 50â51.
The proverb can also be understood from an ancient point of view, since Epictetus admonishes not to parade oneâs philosophical principles, but to âdigestâ them in order to display the good deeds that prove their worth. See Epictetus, Encheiridion 46 and cf. on this metaphorical usage of food in philosophical contexts Sellars 2003, 121â123.
Cf. Gardner 2016 on the educational background of the Parmenides.
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics 10.1.3 (1172a34â35). Cf. Nicomachean Ethics 10.1.4 (1172b3â6): âHence it appears that true theories are the most valuable for conduct as well as for science; harmonizing with deeds, they carry conviction (ÏÏ Î½á¿³Î´Î¿á½¶ Î³á½°Ï á½Î½ÏÎµÏ Ïοá¿Ï á¼ÏÎ³Î¿Î¹Ï ÏιÏÏεÏονÏαι), and so encourage those who understand them to guide their lives by them (ζá¿Î½ καÏâ αá½ÏοÏÏ).â
Epicurus, Letter to Menoeceus 135: ÏαῦÏα οá½Î½ καὶ Ïá½° ÏοÏÏÎ¿Î¹Ï ÏÏ Î³Î³ÎµÎ½á¿ Î¼ÎµÎ»ÎÏα ÏÏá½¸Ï ÏÎµÎ±Ï Ïὸν ἡμÎÏÎ±Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ Î½Ï ÎºÏὸÏ.
Musonius Rufus, Fragment 6, p. 22, r. 7â8 in Hense 1905. Translations of Musonius Rufusâs writings are from Lutz 1947.
Musonius Rufus, Fragment 6, p. 23, r. 15â16 in Hense 1905.
Cicero said the same about fides being a matter of facts, not words: De officiis 1.40, cited in §7.3.2 below. On the opposition of philosophy and (show-off) sophistry, see §5.3.2 above.
Cf. for the related metaphor of battle Seneca, Epistles 71.37: âWhen will it be our privilege, after all the passions have been subdued and brought under our own control, to utter the words âI have conquered!â?â
Sellars 2003, 107. Sellars is concise on the role of Äthos: see 119â121 on habituation (á¼Î¸Î¹ÏμÏÏ) and esp. n. 53.
Cooper 2007, 40.
Dihle 2009, 17: âBeziehung zur philosophischen Lebensgestaltungâ and âDie platonisch-aristotelische Konzeption (â¦) verengte sich aber auf das Bemühen um die Einsichten, die unmittelbar auf den Lebensvollzug anzuwenden waren.â Cf. at p. 18: âDas rechte Leben ist Inhalt und Ziel philosophischer Lehre und sonst gar nichts, meinen kaiserzeitliche Autoren wie die Stoiker Musonios und Epiktet.â
Trapp 2013, 55.
(Pseudo-)Plato, Epistles 10 (358c), also discussed in §5.3.3.
Epicurus, Letter to Pythocles apud Diogenes Laertius, Lives 10.85; Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.80. See §5.3.3 and §5.3.4.
Cf. Dihle 2009, 17: âSo ist es kein Wunder, dass die Umwelt Philosophen oft mehr nach ihrer Lebensführung als nach ihrer Lehre beurteilte.â
Epictetus, Discourses 2.19.23.
Epictetus, Discourses 3.23.17â18.
Cicero, De finibus 2.30.96. Cf. Seneca, Epistles 66.48.
Cf. Epictetus, Discourses 2.22.25â27, 4.13.15.
Seneca, Epistles 64.9: Suspiciendi tamen sunt et ritu deorum colendi. Quidni ego magnorum virorum et imagines habeam incitamenta animi et natales celebrem? For the philosophersâ names, see 64.10. A good example is the degree by the Athenians on Zeno of Citium, in which they decide to build him a tomb at public expense, praising him for âaffording to all in his own conduct a pattern for imitation in perfect consistency with his teachingâ (Diogenes Laertius, Lives 7.10).
Cf. Seneca, Epistles 94.50, where he defends the use of precepts: âWeaker characters, however, need someone to precede them, to say: âAvoid this,â or âDo that.ââ
Epictetus, Discourses 2.19.30â34.
Cf. Malherbe 2012, 2, for a comparison of the manner in which this passage is employing the theme of friendship to its employment in 1 Thessalonians.
The classical loci are Theaetetus 176bâc; Republic 611dâe and Timaeus 41dâ47c.
Litwa 2012, 197.
The overview I offer of the main positions within this discourse does not treat Aristotle or the Peripatetic tradition separately, as Aristotleâs contribution to the topos in question appears to have been less influential and quite minimal. He seems to have been reluctant to draw the human and the divine together and speak of âlikenessâ in this context. Aristotleâs Protrepticus, preserved through Iamblichus, appears to include the statement that a human being âbecomes like God abiding by reasonâ (μÎνÏν δâ á¼Î½ Ïá¿· νῷ á½Î¼Î¿Î¹Î¿á¿¦Ïαι θεῷ). On this topos in Aristotle, see Van Kooten 2008, 136â138.
See i.a. Sedley 1999; Annas 1999; Erler 2002a; Armstrong 2004; Russell 2004; Mahoney 2005; Dombrowski 2005, 95â112; Van Kooten 2008, 124â181; Miller 2011; Athanassiadi & Macris 2013, 63â65.
Stobaeus, Eclogues 2.7.106 (SVF 3.661).
Epictetus, Discourses 1.20.15.
Epicurus, Letter to Menoecus apud Diogenes Laertius, Lives 10.124.
For the presentation of homoiÅsis theÅi as telos-formula by Eudorus, see Dillon 1977, 114â135; Van Kooten 2008, 141â148.
A view that is shared by later Platonists such as Plutarch and might have been instigated by the possible Pythagorean dictum âFollow Godâ (á¼ÏÎ¿Ï Îεῷ) (see Stobaeus, Eclogues 2.249.8).
Stobaeus, Eclogues 2.7.3f.
Annas 1999, 52â53.
Jedan 2013, 66.
Brouwer 2014, 91, n. 133.
Reydams-Schils 2017, 158. In contrast to what this quote may suggest, Reydams-Schils argues in her contribution that such Stoic ideas were (partly) taken up in Middle-Platonic discourse.
Maslov 2012, 460. Maslov argues that in Neoplatonism, both concepts merged and thereby provided a foundation for the Byzantine theories of theÅsis, âbecoming divineâ.
Cf. Dombrowski 2005, 97: âPlatonic askÄsis, however, does not have to be seen in these terms in that the evidence of the dialogues of a certain hostility toward the senses does not necessarily indicate a desire to escape from the world but to transform it, or at least to transform our attitude toward it.â
Plato, Republic 500c: ââOr do you think there is any way in which one would not imitate something one enjoys being associated with (á½ Ïῳ ÏÎ¹Ï á½Î¼Î¹Î»Îµá¿ á¼Î³á½±Î¼ÎµÎ½Î¿Ï, μὴ μιμεá¿Ïθαι á¼ÎºÎµá¿Î½Î¿)?â âNo, thatâs impossible,â he said. âThe philosopher who allies himself with the divine and orderly becomes divine and orderly, as far as is possible for a human being (Îείῳ δὴ καὶ κοÏμίῳ ὠγε ÏιλόÏοÏÎ¿Ï á½Î¼Î¹Î»á¿¶Î½ κόÏÎ¼Î¹á½¹Ï Ïε καὶ θεá¿Î¿Ï Îµá¼°Ï Ïὸ Î´Ï Î½Î±Ïὸν á¼Î½Î¸Ïá½½Ïῳ γίγνεÏαι).ââ
See 2 Corinthians 10.12, a passage which could very well be aimed at opponents with similar sophistic views. On Laws 716c as anti-sophistic, cf. Van Kooten 2008, 134â135. On homoiÅsis theÅi with regard to the virtues of justice and piety as a means of combating sophists in the Theaetetus, cf. Sedley 1999, 313.
Cf. Republic 6.500d: ââIf then,â I said, âsome compulsion comes upon him to put into practice what he sees in the divine realm in the private and public lives of men (ἤθη καὶ ἰδίᾳ καὶ δημοÏá½·á¾³), and to mold not just his own character, do you think he would become a bad creator of temperance, justice, and every other common virtue (ÏÏÏÏοÏá½»Î½Î·Ï Ïε καὶ δικαιοÏá½»Î½Î·Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ ÏÏ Î¼Ïá½±ÏÎ·Ï Ïá¿Ï δημοÏικá¿Ï á¼ÏεÏá¿Ï)?â âCertainly not,â he said.â Cf. also Armstrongâs thesis (in 2004, 171) that âPlatoâs identification of god with Î½Î¿á¿¦Ï or intelligence in the Timaeus, Philebus, and Laws influences his conception of assimilation to god. Rather than fleeing from the sensible world, becoming like this god commits one to improving it.â On otherworldliness in the Theaetetus, see Mahoney 2004.
See Bonazzi 2012, 150: âIn Plutarch, homoiÅsis is never limited to the exercise of mere contemplation, but actually comes to a head through practical activity. (â¦) In imperial Platonism homoiÅsis has often been construed as taking flight from this worldâs woes, (â¦) But (â¦) even therein [Platonic texts] assimilation brings about imitation in that it implies the need for crafting or transforming oneself and others.â
On the occurrence of sagehood according to the Stoics, cf. ReneÌ Brouwerâs conclusion that âthe Stoics, Zeno included, were not self-declared sagesâ (2014, 135).
Epictetus, Discourses 2.19.26â28.
Philodemus, On Piety, col. 71 in Obbink 1996, translation by Obbink.
Note the ambiguity inherent to the word cultor, meaning both worshipper and cultivator, which is lost in translation.
Seneca, Epistles 31.8. On convergences and differences between the views of Seneca and Paul on the roles of God and humans in the context of benefaction, see the next chapter (§7.3.6).
Seneca, Epistles 41.1â2. Cf. for a different assessment Fitzgerald 2007, 275: âThe contrast with Paulâs moral vision of humanity redeemed to love, worship and glorify God (â¦) could not be stronger. (â¦) In Senecaâs ethics, the moral power of the philosophic life, far from revealing the need for God or leading to worship of God, rather demonstrates oneâs own equality with God.â
See Seneca, Epistles 90.1: âWho can doubt, my dear Lucilius, that life is the gift of the immortal gods, but that living well is the gift of philosophy? Hence the idea that our debt to philosophy is greater than our debt to the gods, in proportion as a good life is more of a benefit than mere life, would be regarded as correct, were not philosophy itself a boon which the gods have bestowed upon us. They have given the knowledge thereof to none, but the faculty of acquiring it they have given to all.â
Seneca, Epistles 95.50.
On the role of grace and divine provision in Middle-Platonism, see Erler 2002b; Helmig 2013.
Maximus of Tyre, Philosophical Orations 2.3, translation Trapp 1997.
Maximus of Tyre, Philosophical Orations 13.2.
Alcinous, Epitome doctrinae Platonicae 28.4, 2.2, 153.3â9. Translations of Alcinousâs treatise are from Dillon 1993.
Plutarch, Platonic Questions 2, 1001C. Ammoniusâs speech in The E at Delphi (391Eâ394C) does suggest a major contrast between the incorruptible divine and âHeraclitean fluxâ of the world. Ammoniusâs portrayal is probably exaggerated compared to Plutarchâs own stance on this matter, though: cf. Opsomer 2009, 173. See also §4.3.5 above.
See on Alcinousâs reinterpretation of homoiÅsis Reydams-Schils 2017, 151â152.
See Bonazzi 2017, 136: âit is clear that âassimilationâ is different from âidentificationâ: it is a movement towards âas much as possibleâ and not a full possession, (â¦) Perfect knowledge is distinctive of God, and it would be impious for a Platonist to claim that we can become like God already in this life.â
Alcinous, Epitome doctrinae Platonicae 28.2, 181.44â46.
Philo, On the Creation of the World 69 and Questions and Answers on Genesis 2.62, respectively. For a discussion, see Van Kooten 2008, 181â199. For Philoâs emphasis on transcendence, see §4.3.4 above.
Philo, Who Is the Heir? 205.
Erler 2002a, 178.
Erler is followed by Heath (2013, 83).
Erler 2002a, 179. The anonymous commentary was conventionally dated to the second century AD, though some argue for an earlier date (first century BCâearly first century AD).
See Van Kooten 2008, 134â135.
Cf. Republic 6.500d, quoted above.
See §2.4.1 and §4.3.2 above. For diverse scholarly evaluations of the relationship between Republic book 3 and book 10, see Naddaff 2002, 136, n. 8.
Though cf. Republic 600e: âall composers of poetry are imitators of images of virtue (μιμηÏá½°Ï Îµá¼°Î´á½½Î»Ïν á¼ÏεÏá¿Ï) and of every other subject they deal with.â Here, however, it still concerns artistic representation of virtues, not real-life imitation.
Plutarch, To an Uneducated Ruler 780EâF and 780B (also quoted in §3.3.6 above), respectively. In this passage, the language of assimilation to God and being an image of God coincide, cf. on this subject Van Kooten 2008, 215.
Erler 2002a, 177.
Plato, Republic 500d.
Silius Italicus, Punica 2.484â486.
Epictetus, Discourses 2.8.28.
Cf. for a discussion of this passage in light of the divine law §3.3.5 above.
Cf. Philo, On the Virtues 218: [Abraham] put his trust (ÏιÏÏεύÏανÏα) in nothing created rather than in the Uncreated and Father of all.â
Cf. also Schlatter 1963 [1882], 65 on the interchangeability of faith and faithfulness in Philo.
Philo, On the Confusion of Tongues 31.
For more thorough analyses of how Paul used athletic imagery in the footsteps of Hellenistic philosophers, see Sisson 2005 and Arnold 2014.
Towner 2015, 121. For an opposite assessment as early as the late 19th century, cf. Cremer & Urwick 1886, 485 (s.v. ÏίÏÏιÏ): âTo assume a meaning doctrina fidei is everywhere superfluous.â
Towner 2015, 121.
Arnold 2014, 168.
While ÏÏ Î½Î±Î¸Î»ÎÏ may also refer to military action, the context of virtue increases the likelihood of the athletic connotation, as does the usage of the same metaphor in Philippians 3.14. The prefix syn- is not problematic in this athletic context, as is demonstrated by Dominika Kurek-Chomycz (2017).
Deming 2003, 54, n. 27 refers to Seneca, Epistles 32; Epictetus, Discourses 1.4; Philo, Allegorical Interpretation 2.81, and Philo, That the Worse Attacks the Better 46.
Translation Gifford 1903.
Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 3.4.2. Another example of a dative with the verb á¼Î¸Î»ÎÏ, which is a little more common, is Aeschines, On the Embassy 147: âWhen he was a young man, before the war destroyed his property, he was so fortunate as to be an athlete (á¼Î¸Î»Îµá¿Î½ Ïá¿· ÏώμαÏι)â, or: âas to train his bodyâ.
1 Thessalonians 1.3. On the triad of faith, love, and hope in 1 Corinthians 13.13, see §4.4.4 above.
Cf. Ulrichs 2007, 85: âVielmehr ist der Zusammenhang der beiden Substantive enger zu verstehen, insofern die nomina regentia nicht nur kontingente Begleitumstände, sondern Erscheinungsweisen von Glaube, Liebe und Hoffnung wiedergeben. (â¦) die Genitive sind also am ehesten epexegetisch zu verstehen. (â¦) Der Akzent liegt damit auf der zweiten Trias.â
Getty 1990, 279.
An exception is Friedrich 1981, 119: âGlauben ist nicht ein psychischer Vorgang, sondern schlieÃt die Konsequenz des Handelns ein, so daà Paulus (1 Thes 1.3) vom á¼Ïγον Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ und Gal 5.6 von der ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á¼Î½ÎµÏγοÏμενη sprechen kann.â
Betz 1979, 281â282.
See Betz 1979, 282.
Plutarch, Dialogue on Love 750E.
Plutarch, Beasts Are Rational 987A.
So Porter 1995, 111, with a reference to 1 Timothy 1.2, 5, 14, 19; 2.7, 15; 3.9; 4.1, 6, 12; 5.8, 12; 6.10, 11, 12, 21; 2 Timothy 1.5; 2.22; 3.8, 10; Titus 1.4, 13; 2.2; 3.15. And cf., for a similar assessment of the changing meaning of pistis in the Pastorals, Mutschler 2017, 606, who distinguishes this aspect as a third meaning: âBesonders innovativ, besonders konsequent und besonders folgenreich ist Glaube als Rahmenbegriff und Grundwort für das Christliche. Der Ãbergang zu einer Traditionsreligion ist in den Pastoralbriefen deutlich erkennbar.â Cf. Schliesser 2017b, 24.
See Sierksma-Agteres 2019 for my interpretation of pistis as a virtue in the Pastorals (and its function in balancing hegemonic power play).
2 Timothy 2.22.
âI have kept the faithâ, is a possible translation, and the likelier the later 2 Timothy is to be dated, yet to avoid anachronistic connotations I prefer âmy faithfulnessâ.
LSJ s.v. ÏηÏÎÏ lists as the third meaning âobserve or keep an engagement (â¦) âÏὴν ÏίÏÏινâ 2 Tim 4.7â.
See Morgan 2015, 322: âtÄrein is a strongly politico-military wordâ.
Epictetus, Discourses 3.10.16. See, on this verb in relation to the Stoic moral doctrine of oikeiÅsis, Joosse 2011, 120.
Epictetus, Discourses 2.22.25, on which see §5.3.6 above.
Towner 2015, 122.
As it is said of love in 2 Thessalonians 1.3: âbecause your faith is growing abundantly (á½ÏεÏÎ±Ï Î¾Î¬Î½ÎµÎ¹ ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á½Î¼á¿¶Î½), and the love of every one of you for one another is increasing (Ïλεονάζει ἡ á¼Î³Î¬Ïη á¼Î½á½¸Ï á¼ÎºÎ¬ÏÏÎ¿Ï ÏάνÏÏν á½Î¼á¿¶Î½ Îµá¼°Ï á¼Î»Î»Î®Î»Î¿Ï Ï)â.
Not even when he seems to make such a distinction: cf., above, §2.4.4 (on Romans 12.3), §5.4.3 (on 2 Corinthians 1â2), and §5.4.4 (on Romans 14â15).
Taylor 2004b.
Schliesser 2007, 393.
Hay 2006, 63.
Cf. Morgan 2015, 483: âWe might envisage the covenant between God and Abram as paradigmatic of such individualismâbut Abramâs pistis involves his household as well as himself, and is established for the making of a great nation out of his descendants (Gen. 12.2, 15.1â6), so Abram is always the representative of his family and even, in a sense, of his descendants .â
Hodge 2007, 86. An important argument (set out in pp. 80â82) is that oá¼± á¼Îº phrases often indicate parental descent (a quick TLG search shows that together with geographical origin, these uses make up a large majority of all occurrences, pagan and Jewish alike).
Colossians 1.4 might be cited as part of the argument that pistis is only directed towards Christ and love only towards the holy ones. Regardless of the question of authorship, however, it is not a very relevant parallel since the structure here is obviously tripartite, including the reference to hope in the remainder of the sentence.
Schumacher 2012, 225 and 2017, 323â325.
See i.a. Callahan 1997, 28 (âthe liberality of your faithâ); Bird 2009, 136 (âthe sharing of your faithâ). For more examples, see Georg 1994, 88, n. 33. The unfortunate modern connotation of the translation âthe sharing of your faithâ, also chosen in the NRSV, and even more so of the KJV translation, âthe communication of thy faithâ, is that it seems to refer to evangelism to outsiders, whereas the topic here clearly is Philemonâs attitude towards insiders, including, according to Paul, Onesimus.
Cf. i.a. Cousar 2009, 101â102 (the commentary (at 102) reads âPhilemonâs partnership (koinÅnia) in the faithâ, whereas the translation (at 101) has âthe partnership of your faithâ). For more examples, see Georg 1994, 88, n. 34.
Strangely enough, Panikulam Georg (1994, 88) justifies his choice for the second option by referring to the same preceding verse. Yet showing love and faith âtowards all the saints (Îµá¼°Ï ÏάνÏÎ±Ï ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ á¼Î³Î¯Î¿Ï Ï)â (verse 5) seems to me to be quite a different idea from participating in a faith-community (verse 6, option 2) and similar to allowing other saints to participate in your faith or to being generous based on your faith (verse 6, option 1).
Cf. Wolter 2017, 356 writing on the manner in which faith serves as an equilizer both as regards Israel and the nations (in Romans and Galatians) and as regards âanderen alltagsweltlichen Statuszuschreibungen wie die Unterschiede zwischen Sklaven und Freien oder zwischen Männern und Frauen (â¦). Ethisch am folgenreichsten tritt uns diese gleichmacherische Bedeutung des Glaubens im kleinen Philemonbrief entgegen, der in dieser Hinsicht dem Römerbrief ausgesprochen nahe steht: In diesem Brief ist es die κοινÏνία Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ, die gemeinsame Teilhabe am Glauben, die den Herrn mit seinem Sklaven verbindet und die von ihm verlangt, in seinem eigenen Sklaven den âBruderâ zu sehen.â Cf., for a more extensive discussion, Wolter 2010.
Cf. for this communal configuration of pistis/fides Morgan 2015, 483: âcharacteristically, it seems, divinities in this period are presented as offering pistis/fides to whole communities or to all people collectively. The same is true for the writings of the New Testament. (â¦) insofar as they all have equivalent relationships with the divine, and by that token belong to a particular community, and insofar as pistis/fides helps to form and define communities and those who worship in them, divineâhuman pistis/fides should probably be seen as more strongly communal (on the human side) than individualistic.â
I adapted the NRSV and followed the NIV instead in translating á¼ÏιÏÏÏÎ¸Î·Ï so as to better represent the passive form of the verb. I also added a comma so that the latter phrase concerns the entire sentence. Cf. for another âcatalogue of virtueâ including pistis in the same letter 2 Timothy 2.22, quoted above (in §6.4.1).
See BDAG, s.v. á¼Î½, 6â7. Cf. as parallel expressions 1 Timothy 1.14 (μεÏá½° ÏίÏÏεÏÏ ÎºÎ±á½¶ á¼Î³Î¬ÏÎ·Ï Ïá¿Ï á¼Î½ ΧÏιÏÏá¿· ἸηÏοῦ) and Romans 3.24 (διὰ Ïá¿Ï á¼ÏÎ¿Î»Ï ÏÏÏÏεÏÏ Ïá¿Ï á¼Î½ ΧÏιÏÏá¿· ἸηÏοῦ).
Paul refers to the gnomic maxim that household stewards need to be found trustworthy: 1 Corinthians 4.2. On Paulâs use of maxims see Ramsaran 1996, on this specific maxim at p. 35.
Morgan 2015, 217; cf. also 217â220, 255, 278, 301â302, 355, 504. And see also Morgan 2017b, 169: âThe cascade of pistis mirrors the structure of authority, flowing from God, through Christ, the spirit, apostles and their co-workers to community members, in the new divine-human relationship created by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. As such, it stands at the heart not only of Paulâs theology but also of his ethics and ecclesiology.â
According to Paul Schubert (1935, 17â27), 1 Thessalonians 1.2â3.13 is one genuine unified thanksgiving section and in that sense, âthe thanksgiving is the letterâ, for â[i]t contains all the primary information that Paul wished to conveyâ (at 26). Cf. Jack T. Sanders (1962, 355â356), who speaks of a second thanksgiving section starting at 2.13.
In the redundancy of a âthreefold thanksgivingâ, some find ground for supposing interpolation (of 1 Thes 2.13â16) or conflation of multiple letters. For the thesis that 1 and 2 Thessalonians consist of four original separate letters, see Schmithals 1972, 123â218. For the interpolation theory, see e.g. Pearson 1971. Still, before jumping to such conclusions, we should, in the words of Jan Lambrecht, who wrote a structural analysis of the letter (2000), grant Paul some âepistolary libertyâ (at 147) and not end up in âfarfetched and strained genre huntingâ (at 154).
David W. Pao (2010, esp. at 125) argues that a typical Pauline thanksgiving section serves as a reminder to act faithfully (ethics) since God is faithful (theology).
Cf. Starr 2013, 521â523.
For horizontal imitation of ânormalâ Christ-followers, cf. Philippians 3.17: âBrothers and sisters, join in imitating me (ÏÏ Î¼Î¼Î¹Î¼Î·Ïαί Î¼Î¿Ï Î³Î¯Î½ÎµÏθε), and observe those who live according to the example you have in us (ÎºÎ±Î¸á½¼Ï á¼ÏεÏε ÏÏÏον ἡμᾶÏ).â
Schumacher argues (in Schumacher 2012, at 302) that the attribute ἡ ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïὸν θεὸν shows that in this early letter, pistis is in need of further specification as a religious term. Instead, I would read verse 9 as a further explication of this pistis: âhow you turned to God from idols, to serve a living and true Godâ, wherefore the attribute is added not to explicate that Paul means religious faith versus any other type of non-religious faith but loyalty to a particular God, the only true divinity, as opposed to loyalty to idols.
Cf. Getty 1990, 282: âWherever Paul preached the gospel, news of the success and strength of the Thessaloniansâ faith augmented his credibility.â
This connection here is affirmed by Jakob Spaeth (2017, 394): âIm Ersten Thessalonicherbrief wird darüber hinaus erkennbar, dass Paulus die Nachahmung eng an die Thematik des Glaubens bindet.â
In contrast to i.a. the NRSV, which has âof the churches of God in Christ Jesusâ, I take á¼Î½ ΧÏιÏÏá¿· ἸηÏοῦ to refer to the verb, to the process of imitation. This process is often expressed in close connection to Christ as the remainder of this section will show.
On the motive of imitation in Philippians 2, see Fowl 1998, 149: âPractical reasoning is the activity of noting similarities and differences between an exemplar and the particular context in which one tries to live in a manner appropriate to that exemplar. What one strives for is nonidentical repetition based on analogies one draws between the exemplar and the context in which one finds oneself.â
Michaelis 1968, 661â678.
Michaelis 1968, 672â673.
Here I do not agree with Harrison 2013, 249 and his âmany scholarsâ: âPaulâs use of the passive á¼Î³ÎµÎ½Î®Î¸Î·Ïε in verse 6, as many scholars have observed, points to Godâs agency in producing a Christ-centred imitation in the lives of the believers.â On the âimaginary linguistic phenomenonâ of the passivum divinum, see Smit & Renssen 2014.
And cf. the outcome of the âAristotelean rhetorical analysisâ of the letter by Thomas Olbricht, who characterizes the first half of the letter in terms of rhetorical Äthos, whereby 2.1â3.6 is reserved for establishing Paulâs own virtue: âConfidence in, and the credibility of, God, Godâs messengers, and the members of the community are imperative if Paulâs program is to succeedâ (Olbricht 1990, 229).
Malherbe 2012, 3.
Pitts 2010.
Pitts 2010, 280â281.
To avoid confusion, by âcontentâ I mean that which is to be imitated, namely the faithful life, not cognitive beliefs as in the Augustinian/Thomistic fides quae.
Cf. for an ethical interpretation of this text Morgan 2020, 154.
Cf. Colossians 2.12 (on which see also §5.4.3 above): âwhen you were buried with him in baptism, you were also raised with him through faith in the power of God (καὶ ÏÏ Î½Î·Î³ÎÏθηÏε διὰ Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ Ïá¿Ï á¼Î½ÎµÏÎ³ÎµÎ¯Î±Ï Ïοῦ θεοῦ), who raised him from the dead.â
Cf. Wolter 2017, 360: âDas Bemerkenswerte an diesem Text ist vielmehr, dass der Glaube nach paulinischem Verständnis hier so etwas wie ein Urteil ist, das der Auferstehung Jesu genau dieselbe historische Dignität zuschreibt wie dem Tod Jesu bzw. die Auferstehung Jesu für genauso ârealâ hält wie seinen Tod.â
Romans 10.9â10a: âif you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead (καὶ ÏιÏÏεÏÏá¿Ï á¼Î½ ÏῠκαÏδίᾳ ÏÎ¿Ï á½ Ïι á½ Î¸Îµá½¸Ï Î±á½Ïὸν ἤγειÏεν á¼Îº νεκÏῶν), you will be saved. For one believes with the heart and so is justified (καÏδίᾳ Î³á½°Ï ÏιÏÏεÏεÏαι Îµá¼°Ï Î´Î¹ÎºÎ±Î¹Î¿ÏÏνην).â See on this passage §7.4.1 infra. For an ethical interpretation of justice as in line with Paulâs Judaism, see VanLandingham 2006, and for convergence with pagan discourse, see §3.4.2 above.
See Galatians 4.19: âMy little children, for whom I am again in the pain of childbirth until Christ is formed in you (οá½Ï Ïάλιν á½ Î´Î¯Î½Ï Î¼ÎÏÏÎ¹Ï Î¿á½ Î¼Î¿ÏÏÏθῠΧÏιÏÏá½¸Ï á¼Î½ á½Î¼á¿Î½).â
Cf., for a similar conclusion through the lens of Platonist and Stoic physics as compared to to Paulâs, Stowers 2017, 248: âJesus Christ, in contrast to the angels and gods, is a perfectly obedient and humble (before God) character remade with a perfect material to whom Paulâs Gentileâs [sic] âin Christâ assimilate in character and in substance.â
See 1 Corinthians 15.2: âthrough which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to youâunless you have come to believe in vain (εἰκῠá¼ÏιÏÏεÏÏαÏε)â; 1 Corinthians 15.14: âand if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain (κενὴ καὶ ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á½Î¼á¿¶Î½)â; 1 Corinthians 15.17: âIf Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile (μαÏαία ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á½Î¼á¿¶Î½) and you are still in your sins.â On this passage, see also §7.4.1 below.
E.g. Hay 2006, 57â58. While Hay views this text as a fundamental example of â[t]he âbelieve to be trueâ dimension of faithâ (at 57), Hay grants that even here, the ââexistentialâ or trusting side of faith also appearsâ (at 58).
Ronald Cox reads Paulâs thought on Christâs role as a âcosmological agentâ in 1 Corinthians 8.6 in light of the âmove made by Greek-speaking Jewish sapiential writers, who themselves appear to have been influenced to some extent by Middle Platonismâ (Cox 2009, 159).
See e.g. Miller 2003, 61.
Early âmysticalâ interpretations were offered by Adolf Deissmann and Albert Schweitzer: for an overview, see Campbell 2012, 31â64. For an overview of present-day perspectives, see Thate, Vanhoozer & Campbell 2014. An exploration of the different emphases of the expressions âin Christâ, âin the Lordâ, etc. and their relationship to Pauline mysticism, cf. Du Toit 2000.
Teresa Morgan has argued that both refer to the relationship between God, Christ, and the faithful (her earlier description in 2015, 304), and more specifically, that âGod puts the faithful into Christâs handsâ (en ChristÅ) as âone expression of a pre-existing pistis between God and Christ which makes possible the reconciliation of God with humanity; the ongoing right relationship between God, Christ, and the faithful in the present time; and the eventual salvation of the faithfulâ (2020, 108). This ârelationalâ reading of en pistei is part of her wider thesis in this more recent work that Paulâs en ChristÅ language is not so much âmysticâ or âparticipationalâ, but rather âinstrumentalâ (what God has done âthrough Christâ) or âencheiristicâ (the life of the faithful âin Christâs handsâ). The latter, âencheiristicâ reading does not diverge too far from my perhaps somewhat more âethical-participationalâ interpretation here: for Morgan, this includes living âin an all-absorbing relationship with God and Christ, which is defined entirely by God and Christâ (at 241). Moreover, she includes a discussion of homoiÅsis language (148â155) and concludes (at 155) that âliving ethically in oneâs lifetime (â¦) fits well with descriptions we have seen elsewhere of what it means to live in Christâs handsâ.
Cf. Wisdom 7.27: âAlthough she is one, she can do all things, and while remaining in herself, she renews all things, and in every generation she passes into holy souls (Îµá¼°Ï ÏÏ Ïá½°Ï á½Ïá½·Î±Ï Î¼ÎµÏÎ±Î²Î±á½·Î½Î¿Ï Ïα) and makes them friends of God and prophets.â
Cf. §5.4.5 in the previous chapter on the interpretation of this passage and more specifically on possible meanings of Ïá¿ ÏίÏÏει. This connection to Christ is missed by Schumacher, who here distinguishes sharply between interhuman and divine-human pistis and states âdass ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï im Sinne von âGlaube an Christusâ in den folgenden Versen keine besondere Rolle spielt᾿ (2009, 491).
Cf., for a similar logic, 2 Thessalonians 3.2â3: âfor not all have faith (Î¿á½ Î³á½°Ï ÏάνÏÏν ἡ Ïá½·ÏÏιÏ); but the Lord is faithful (ÏιÏÏá½¸Ï Î´á½³ á¼ÏÏιν ὠκύÏιοÏ).â
Cf. Smith 2015, 177: âFor the inalienably faithful Jesus, being faithless would amount to a denial of self.â Cf. Paulâs questions in Romans: âWhat if some were unfaithful (εἰ á¼ ÏίÏÏηÏάν ÏινεÏ)? Will their faithlessness nullify the faithfulness of God (μὴ ἡ á¼ÏιÏÏία αá½Ïῶν Ïὴν ÏίÏÏιν Ïοῦ θεοῦ καÏαÏγήÏει)?â (Rom 3.3). These questions, however, seem to come up from a covenantal, rather than mimetic setting, since it is Israel which is here portrayed as having betrayed Godâs trust, manifested in entrusting the divine oracles (Rom 3.2).
See Schenck 2008, 525: âAlthough I resist the âneglected evidenceâ title, my ultimate interest in the current study is what 2 Cor 4.13 might contribute to this discussion.â
Schenck 2008, 527â529. Schenck substantiates this argument i.a. by referring to the early Christian practice of reading the Psalms âas if Christ were uttering themâ (at 529, referring to Hays 1993). Schenck does not seem aware that the same case had already been made, though not so much in context of the pistis Christou discussion, by Thomas Stegman (2005, 146â168), namely the case âthat Paul has this entire story in mind as he cites LXX Psalms 114â115 in 2 Cor 4.13 (â¦) precisely because it serves as an apt expression of the story of Jesusâ (at 156â157).
Cited from Schenck 2008, 526. The motive of imitation of Christâs character in Paul, particularly in 2 Corinthians, is amply treated in Stegman 2005, though Stegman leaves out non-biblical contemporary sources on moral imitation as well.
See also the conclusion of Boris Maslov (2012, 468), who attributes Gregory of Nazianzusâs concept of theÅsis not to early Platonic homoiÅsis theÅi but to the fourth-century adoption of Stoic oikeiÅsis pros theon by Neoplatonists. For discussions of theÅsis or ChristÅsis in Pauline thought, see i.a. Finlan 2008; Blackwell 2011; Litwa 2012; Rabens 2016b.
1 Corinthians 1.9, 10.13; 2 Corinthians 1.18; 1 Thessalonians 5.24. See §4.4.2 above.
See 1 Thessalonians 4.9: âNow concerning love of the brothers and sisters, you do not need to have anyone write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God (á½Î¼Îµá¿Ï θεοδίδακÏοί á¼ÏÏε) to love one another.â Cf. §3.3.6 above.
The variant reading of Galatians 2.20, âthe life I now live in the flesh I live by/through the faith of God and Christâ, comes close to offering a participation in Godâs pistis as well. Still, the preceding sentence does not speak of âGod living in meâ but only Christ, and more political interpretations may then come into play (becoming part of Godâs offer and realm of pistis, by participating in the life of his Son). Cf. Schumacher 2017, 334â335 on this reading of Galatians 2.20 and chapter 7 below on this semantic domain.
Cf. LXX Isaiah 40.13: Ïá½·Ï á¼Î³Î½Ï νοῦν ÎÏ Ïá½·Î¿Ï , καὶ Ïá½·Ï Î±á½Ïοῦ Ïá½»Î¼Î²Î¿Ï Î»Î¿Ï á¼Î³á½³Î½ÎµÏο, á½Ï ÏÏ Î¼Î²Î¹Î²á¾· αá½Ïόν.
Van Kooten 2008, 213. Cf. his entire section 2.2, âThe âimage of Godâ and âbeing made like Godâ: the traditions of homoiÅsis theÅi in Greek philosophy from Plato to Plotinus,â 124â181. Cf. for a different view Heath (2013), who views Paulâs language and thought as âphilosophically naïveâ, not voicing the homoiÅsis theÅi motive (at 243): âPaul never uses the language of á½Î¼Î¿Î¯ÏÏÎ¹Ï Î¸Îµá¿·; he does regard Christians as transformed into co-formation with the son of God (Rom 8.29, cf. Rom 12.1â2; 2 Cor 3.18), and thus in this as in other cases coined for the Christian tradition language and concepts so resonant with the Platonic that Christians of subsequent centuries would read them through Platonizing spectacles and reformulate them in expressly Platonizing terms, altering the nuances of both Plato and Paul and producing Platonic Christianity. This subsequent history of tradition, however, must be distinguished from the more philosophically naïve language and thought of Paul himself.â Cf. on Paulâs participation in philosophical discourses §1.4 above.
Cf. Romans 8.3 âby sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful fleshâ (á½ Î¸Îµá½¸Ï Ïὸν á¼Î±Ï Ïοῦ Ï á¼±á½¸Î½ ÏÎμÏÎ±Ï á¼Î½ á½Î¼Î¿Î¹ÏμαÏι ÏαÏÎºá½¸Ï á¼Î¼Î±ÏÏίαÏ). See Eastman 2008, 434â448, on Christ first mimicking Adam/humanity in Philippians. Cf. Van Kooten 2008, 216: âBy emphasizing the descent of the heavenly man, his incarnation, and assimilation to man, Paul seems to enhance manâs ability to become of the same form as him.â
Cf. Hays 1983, 249: âas we respond in faith, we participate in an ongoing re-enactment of Christâs faithfulness.â
There is a well-attested variant here (i.a. in papyrus 46 from around 200, Vaticanus, and the original Claromontanus) that reads Î¸ÎµÎ¿Ï ÎºÎ±Î¹ ΧÏιÏÏÎ¿Ï instead of Ï á¼±Î¿á¿¦ Ïοῦ θεοῦ. In that case, the imitation/participation extends to God as well.
This and other verbal variants of âfaith in Christâ renders the âsubjective genitiveâ argument that Paul never speaks of faith in Christ, only of faith in God, hollow. Cf. for instance Eisenbaum 2009, 189â195 on pistis Christou, at 195: âThe point is that, technically speaking, the Greek equivalent of the phrase âfaith in Christâ never occurs in the undisputed Pauline letters.â Technically, of course, she is right.
Silius Italicus, Punica 2.495.
See Hodge 2007, 90, who argues in favour of Christâs faithfulness, understood as âChristâs obedient death and resurrection, which have offered to gentiles the opportunity to be made right with the God of Israel.â
Plato, Theaetetus 176b: âto become like God is to become righteous and holy with wisdomâ (á½Î¼Î¿á½·ÏÏÎ¹Ï Î´á½² δίκαιον καὶ á½ Ïιον μεÏá½° ÏÏονήÏεÏÏ Î³ÎµÎ½á½³Ïθαι). This connection to Platonic homoiÅsis language is missed by Volker Rabens (2014b, 323), who only refers to the Septuagint.
So e.g. Dodd 1999, 23; Getty 1990, 278.
On the diverse possibilities of interpreting και (copulative, concessive, instrumental, or explicative) see Longenecker 2016, 437.
Hays 1980, 111.
On the meaning of the participle including the sense of âbeing faithfulâ, see §8.4 below.