The Cross: subverting post-modernism

A major issue facing Christian theology on the eve of the new millennium is the question of power.

On the wider cultural level, the post-modern critique of thinkers such as Jean-Francois Lyotard, Jacques Derrida and especially Michel Foucault contains the charge that all claims to truth, including the claims of theology, are merely secret bids for power.
Christianity, it is claimed, dominated Western society for centuries not because it was more true, but because it was more powerful than its rivals. At the local level too, similar issues face local churches. Where does power lie? How are clergy and church leaders to use their power? What of the abuse of religious power evident in many movements, from the 'Nine O'Clock Service' in Sheffield to American televangelists, even down to clerical domination in local churches today?

Theology and power claims

These accusations have been strengthened by the sense that the church has often used theology to legitimate its claims to domination. Is theology merely an exercise in buttressing the power-claims of those in authority in the name of an all-powerful God? How can Christians claim to hold the truth when truth itself is seen as an oppressive assertion of power? These questions are crucial for the future of theology; as Anthony Thiselton puts it: 'These perspectives constitute the most serious and urgent challenge for theology, in comparison with which the old-style attacks from 'common-sense' positivism appear relatively naive.' The result of all this is that Christian theology today needs to search its own heart and past to discover whether it holds the resources to meet such challenges.
One theme in Western theology which can claim to do this is the theology of the cross. Sometimes forgotten, sometimes remembered, this 'thin tradition' which has functioned like an antiphon beneath the high triumph song of Christendom has impressive credentials as a kind of theology possessing an in-built resistance to the abuse of power. It has shown itself on several significant occasions to be capable of mounting a serious critique of theologies which are used to legitimise claims to power, and to offer instead an alternative vision of both God's use of power and that of those who claim to be his people.

Paul in Corinth

1 Corinthians, probably more than any other New Testament writing, has been the beneficiary of sociological analysis over the past two decades. This research, carried out principally by Gerd Theissen yet with other notable contributions, has been complemented by interest in the role which rhetoric plays in the letter, both the interest shown by the Corinthians in sofia logou, and in Paul's own use of rhetoric. In all, these new perspectives have helped us to see the letter in a new light, and to appreciate that it is impossible to understand the dynamics of the early development of the church in Corinth purely in doctrinal terms, as older scholarship tended to do. There is clearly a socio-economic dimension to the tensions in Corinth, from the way in which the Eucharist was conducted (cf. 11.22) to the tendency to seek justice in secular litigation (only the rich could afford to go to court), and even over food offered to idols. This is to say nothing of the social mix which made up the church itself (1.26), with the inevitable tensions that brought in a very status-conscious society.

Conflicting groups

But social factors do not explain everything in Corinth. There are still some ideological issues which divide the church from Paul and, presumably, the Corinthians themselves. Most of the literature on 1 Corinthians concludes that it was not so much a case of four separate parties slogging it out, following Paul, Apollos, Cephas or Christ (as 1.12 might suggest), as a matter of two sides being involved. On one account, an axis lies between Paul and Cephas, perhaps reflecting a Gentile-Jewish divide in the church.
Others have tended to see Paul and Apollos as the major foci of loyalty in the congregation. Recently, perhaps, the pendulum has swung more towards the Apollos theory, and the idea that the disputes in Corinth caused division, less between Jewish and Gentile Christians than among different groups of Gentile believers in the church. This is normally attributed to several different factors, such as: (i) interest in rhetoric and Apollos' skill at it, and the Acts 18 evidence that he had visited Corinth, contrasting with uncertainty as to whether Peter ever did; (ii) the virtual disappearance of Peter from the Paul-Apollos argument in chapters 3 and 4, and the absence from the letter of the normal contentious issues in Jewish-Gentile Christian relations, such as law, promise, circumcision and the like; and in general (iii) factors involving the Hellenistic context of Pauline churches, in which there has been a recent growth of interest.

Ideological settings

Gerd Theissen has shown how most of the people named in the letter were probably of high social status, and most probably supporters of Paul. There is also evidence to suggest that 'some' within the church were disdainful towards Paul, perhaps because of his lack of rhetorical ability (as opposed to Apollos) and his artisan status (chapter 9), who at the same time disparaged the poorer members of the church. It is arguable that this same group claimed that 'there is no resurrection from the dead', that 'there are no idols in the world' (8.4), argued for the right to eat in pagan temples, possibly joining in the cultic meals in honour of idols (8.1-13; 10.7-33), and displayed a strange mixture of sexual licence (5.1) and asceticism (7.1). It is possible to suggest ideological settings in first-century Corinth which would explain the origin of some of these ideas and practices.
For example, local Epicureans, who held that knowledge of the essential principles of matter gave them power and superiority over others who lacked it, would have held a number of beliefs and practices which bear striking resemblance to some Corinthian positions. They believed, for example, that at death people simply cease to be, and that resurrection of any kind is nonsensical. They had a reputation for keeping themselves separate from the rest of society, in a way similar to those who ate apart at the Eucharist, and perhaps they felt that they had no need of those less gifted than themselves (12.21). They held ambivalent attitudes to sex, encompassing both kinds of the sexual attitudes mentioned above. Although not actually atheist, they held the gods to be of no account, distant and uninterested, and thus held that one could engage in pagan worship without its necessarily meaning anything, much like some Corinthian Christians seem to have done (8.10). And, of course, like all good first-century upwardly-mobile Greco-Romans, they were interested in wisdom and rhetoric.

Rich taking sides

In any case, it is a fair guess that the church in Corinth was experiencing a power struggle between two groups of wealthy Christians. One, perhaps converted by Apollos' rhetorical style and charismatic ability, may have been still influenced by close association with ideas and practices most evident in the Epicurean group in the city, and uncritically brought these ideas into their new Christian faith to justify their behaviour. In reaction, a number of those who had been in the church longer, originally converted by Paul, began to disapprove. (Had they already written to him to complain about those who associated too closely with immoral men - 5.9?)
On this scenario, this argument had quickly degenerated into an argument about names and loyalties, one side disparaging the ministry and abilities of the other's 'leader'. The poor in the congregation, for example Chloe's slaves (1.11), saw just an argument over names. The rich took sides, some even staying aloof from the quarrel by claiming to follow the distant Peter. Paul, it seems, has to address two quite separate problems, namely boasting by those who followed Apollos and valued rhetoric, knowledge, wealth, status and charismatic gifting, so disparaging both the poor and Paul himself, and quarrelling between these and Christians who thought they were remaining loyal to Paul. Both of these attitudes, of course, touch on the use of power within the church.

Paul's response

Paul's response centres upon the cross of Christ, as the place where God has revealed his 'wisdom', or his 'characteristic way of working'. As he begins a carefully argued reply in 1.18, he shows that their unity, so easily fractured, is found in the fact that Christ has died for them. Paul was not crucified for them, Christ was. They were baptised not into Paul's or Apollos' death, but into Christ's. Their dispute over who baptised whom would 'empty the cross of its power' because it denied the reality of the unity which the cross achieved. The cross stands as the bedrock of the teaching which gave the church its original identity and unity (15.3).
Furthermore, the cross answers not just Corinthian quarrelling, but Corinthian arrogance as well. God's wisdom is exemplified in his scandalous choice of a crucified Messiah as the means of salvation, a relatively low-status group of people for the majority of his church in Corinth, and a weak, rhetorically unskilled and spiritually exhausted apostle (1.26-2.5). The cross gives value to the weaker, poorer brother, as one for whom Christ died (8.11). Whereas these Corinthian Christians disdained the poor and Paul, God had chosen them for his purposes. The cross thus deconstructs both competitiveness and arrogance.

The cross our model

Beyond this, the cross acts as a model for the use of power, or more specifically, the cross as exemplified in the life of Paul the apostle. Paul appeals to the Corinthians to imitate him (4.16) in his role as servant/slave (3.5, 4.1). As chapter 4 proceeds, the imagery of crucifixion creeps into the text, as Paul portrays the apostolic life as one of shame, suffering and degradation. Paul's boast is that he 'made himself a slave to all, that I might win the more' (9.19); that by choosing the life of a common artisan, he became socially 'weak, in order to win the weak' (9.22). Paul's own life has taken on a crucifixion shape, sacrificing his own social power and status for the sake of others. The true content of Christian wisdom is not 'knowledge' but 'love'; in other words, self-giving towards one's fellow-believers, and especially the poor. It is this pattern of life he recommends to these Christians, namely the way of servanthood, the way of the cross. A theology which begins at the cross is, for Paul, the radical antidote to any religion which is only a thinly veiled copy of a power-seeking culture.

Dr. Graham Tomlin is Tutor in Historical Theology and Director of Evangelism at Wycliffe Hall, Oxford.

This piece is part of a larger article with footnotes, taken from Themelios, October 1997, and is used with permission.