This short section is incredibly theologically rich. Paul refers to a theme that appears often in his letters: the contrast between God’s kingdom and the “rulers of this age.”
Paul and Apocalyptic
In his commentary on 1 Corinthians, Charles Campbell notes that, in chapter 1, Paul developed “a dynamic apocalyptic theology of interruption.” In this “dynamic apocalyptic” theology, God breaks into the present with a new and very different future, but that future is not yet fully realized. As a result, Paul pictures a “liminal, threshold space between the ages, in which the church is being saved as it lives in the tension between the old age and the new.” (Campbell, 43 (emphasis in original)). This liminal space is explored further in 1 Corinthians chapter 2 (remember that the entire text is a letter — there were no “chapters” or “verses” in the original text).
The word “apocalyptic” here might call to mind a grim end-of-the-world scenario, particularly during these times of pandemic. It’s true that the genre of “apocalyptic” literature in the Bible often supplies fearsome imagery of judgment. There was in fact a significant amount of “apocalyptic” literature produced in Jewish communities in what historians call the “Second Temple” period, between about 516 BCE to 70 CE. A little bit of history helps put this literature in perspective.
The first Temple was the Temple of Solomon that existed in Jerusalem until it was destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 BCE. Construction of the Second Temple was begun by groups of Jewish exiles who were allowed to return to Jerusalem from captivity in Babylon under a decree by the Persian King Cyrus issued in 538 BCE. The Second Temple was modest at first, but it was made into a magnificent structure by Herod the Great, ruler of Judea at the time of Jesus’ birth.
Herod was declared “King of the Jews” by the Romans, who controlled Judea. Jewish purists believed Herod and his sons had corrupted true Jewish worship and the true Jewish state. This tension is reflected among the various parties referred to in the Gospels, including the Pharisees, and in the ironic title “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” placed over Jesus on the cross. Herod’s sons were eventually replaced by Roman governors and the Second Temple was destroyed by the Romans in CE 70 under the Emperor Titus after a failed Jewish revolt. There was never a “Third Temple.” The Jews were dispersed (the “diaspora”) and the practices of Rabbinic Judaism centered on the local synagogue, without any King, Priests or central Temple, continued to develop, including into forms we are familiar with today.
The Second Temple period apocalyptic literature, then, can be viewed as a way in which different Jewish communities expressed the hope that the oppression of Greek and Roman rule, and the perceived compromise with wealth and power made by some other Jews, would come to an end through God’s judgment, and that a new and more just Jewish kingdom would be established under God’s rule. Some this apocalyptic literature, such as the book of Daniel, is found in the canon of the Hebrew scriptures. Some of it, such as 2 Ezra, is in the “apocrypha” — writings that only some Christians think are part of the canon of scripture or that some Christians think are valuable but not part of the canon. Many of the texts in the famous “Dead Sea Scrolls” are apocalyptic and other texts relating to a sectarian community that existed during Jesus’ time, some of which are part of the canon of the Hebrew scriptures or the apocrypha and some of which are not.
Paul began his career as a Pharisee, before his calling as an Apostle of Jesus, so he certainly was familiar with some of this literature and with the spirituality it reflects. Paul himself seems to have anticipated a sudden end to the present order in an act of Divine judgment. So, we shouldn’t be surprised to find echoes of this kind of thinking in Paul’s letters. Of course, we also find Christian versions of apocalyptic in the New Testament outside the Pauline corpus, most notably in the Apocalypse of John (Revelation), and there is plenty of Christian apocalyptic literature dating from the first few centuries after Christ that was not incorporated into the Biblical canon.
Unmasking the Powers
Although some apocalyptic imagery in the texts we have been discussing seems strange and violent to us today, in a broader sense, “apocalyptic” is a form of unmasking the pretenses of the present in the hope of a better, truer future. In 1 Corinthians, this way of thinking appears in Paul’s stark contrast between “God’s wisdom” and “the wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are doomed to perish.” (1 Cor. 2:6 (NRSV)).
The word “age” in Greek here is aiōnos, and the word “rulers” is archontōn. You might notice some English words that have been derived from these Greek words (by way of Latin): “eon” from aion and the ending “-archy” from arkhḗ (as in “patriarchy,” “oligarchy,” or “anarchy”). “Eon” in English means an undetermined, very long period of time. In the New Testament, aion is often used to contrast the present age and the future age, so it is a term that relates to eschatology, that is, to the things to come. An archon in the New Testament can be an individual leader, such as the head of a synagogue, but it also often refers to spiritual rulers or powers. You could translate the phrase “archonton tou ainos” as “powers of this age.”
Paul’s picture of “rulers” or “powers” that are both earthly and super-earthly was consistent with how the Romans imagined themselves. This was a time when the was no “secular” space — everything tangible and visible was impregnated with the spiritual realm. The Romans believed that their society, including its politics, arts, commerce, and social order, depended upon relationships with their gods, including, eventually, a deified Roman Emperor. A claim that the Roman gods were false powers was equivalent to a claim that Rome’s authority itself was illegitimate. The Jews dispersed through the Roman empire made such a claim when they recited the shema — “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One” — and they were warily tolerated in Roman cities, though as a people whose center of authority, the Jerusalem Temple, had been razed by Titus. Paul makes the same kind of claim when he says the cross of Christ belies the “powers of this age.” Paul does not rally around the hope of a rebuilt Third Temple against Rome, but he rallies around Christ raised up on a Roman cross.
Some discussion questions on this section
- What are some “powers” — “–archies” — you see at work in our world today? How would the cross of Christ defuse those powers?
- Do you think the “powers” at work today are entirely “material,” or do you think there are also “spiritual” powers? How can we in a modern, scientific, secular age relate to Paul’s ancient understanding of a world in which material and spiritual realities coincide?
- Paul declares that the “rulers of this age” are “doomed to perish” against the backdrop of a historical narrative that shaped his life — the history of Israel discussed above. What historical narratives shape us? In what ways does the cross of Christ call those narratives into question?
The Spirit, the Depths, and the Mysteries
In the remainder of chapter 2, Paul dives deeper into the ideas about knowledge and wisdom mentioned in chapter 1. In verse 7, Paul says, “we speak God’s wisdom, secret and hidden, which God decreed before the ages for our glory” (NRSV) — or in the NIV translation, “we declare God’s wisdom, a mystery that has been hidden . . . .” The NIV translation captures the Greek word mystēriō, a term often used by Paul to mean something God had not previously disclosed.
Paul offers here a kind of theology of history. God has a plan for the aionon — the ages — that differs from the plans of the “rulers of this age” and that is right, good, and glorious. God has not previously disclosed all of this plan but now it is being made known (or at least, an important part of it is being made known) in the cross of Christ. This plan is not merely otherworldly — a way for some people to “go to heaven.” It is a plan to bring history to a resolution.
The ekklesia to whom Paul is writing — the community centered on the cross of Christ — can perceive how God’s plan is working through “the Spirit that is from God” (NRSV), in contrast to “the spirit of the world.” The word Paul uses for “world” here is “kosmou” (the Greek kosmos, from which we derive our words cosmos and cosmic). Again, what Paul is describing is a temporal, material reality, but also a cosmic reality.
Notice that in the first section of chapter 2, Paul says he came to the Corinthians in weakness, without fine speech, but he quickly moves into this section addressed to “the mature” — in Greek, teleiois, from telos. This word reflects an important concept in ancient Greek philosophy (from which we get our words “teleology” and “teleological”). It meant the end to be achieved, the thing toward which a good person, or a good society, should be pointed. So the teleiois here are those who have achieved that end, who have become ethically perfected in virtue. Paul will go on to criticize the Corinthians, so he doesn’t, in fact, think they have yet “arrived.” Paul seems to be making a rhetorical move towards the disciples of Apollos, who think they are superior to others in the congregation and superior to Paul.
What can be discerned through the Spirit of God seems like foolishness to “the unspiritual” (NRSV) — to the “natural person.” Looking at the Greek words here is interesting again: the “unspiritual” or “natural person” is psychicos anthropos. Psychicos is from psyche — our words psyche, psychological, relating to the mind. For the ancient Greeks, there was no sharp distinction between the “mind” and the “soul,” and the word psyche referred to the “soul,” which included the capacities we today attribute to the “mind” (or perhaps for modern neuroscience, to the “brain”). Paul often contrasts the “spiritual” and the “natural,” what can be known through the Spirit and what can be known by the human mind or “soul” without the Spirit.
Also notice that in this section, Paul has referred to Jesus Christ, God, and the Spirit. Neither in 1 Corinthians nor in any of his other letters does Paul have a worked-out theology of the Trinity. There is no worked-out theology of the Trinity anywhere in the New Testament. Christian theology about the Trinity developed, often contentiously, in the early centuries of Church history, and what is considered “orthodox” thought about the Trinity only began to become codified in 325 CE at the Council of Nicea. I put “orthodox” in scare quotes here, because there is an enormous amount of historical baggage behind what did and didn’t become recognized by the Council, and there never really was, and still isn’t, full agreement about exactly what the doctrine of the Trinity means or how to express it.
But — we do see here the lineaments of Christian thought about the Trinity — a concept that is indeed central to all of Christian thought. Paul’s thought — and any deeply Christian thought — is entirely consistent with the Jewish shema — our God is “one.” And yet, Christian though must account for the person of Jesus Christ and the person of the Spirit as well as the person of God whom Jesus called “Father.” There is already a Trinitarian shape to Paul’s expression in 1 Corinthians.
Some discussion questions on this section
- Do you experience understanding, illumination, or knowledge from the Holy Spirit? How? How does the Spirit shape your psyche?
- How do you think about a “theology of history?” How do you see God at work in the broad sweep of events in the world? How do you see God at work right, now, in the pandemic?
- What liminal spaces are you inhabiting today? What hope do you have for the future? Is there a word of hope we might hear from the Spirit right now?
- Does the concept of the Trinity make any difference to how you see the world?