Krister
Stendahl, “The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West” in
Paul Among Jews and Gentiles (Philadelphia: Fortress), 1976, pp. 78-96. First
published in English in Harvard Theological Review, 56 (1963), pp. 199-215.
Reviewed by Bill DeJong
Reviewed by Bill DeJong
Legend has it that
the apostle Paul was “a man small of stature, with a bald head and crooked
legs, in a good state of body, with eyebrows meeting and nose somewhat hooked.”
This physical profile of Paul, found in the apocryphal Acts of Paul and
composed by a second century presbyter fromAsia on the basis of
circulating traditions, was seriously doubted by Tertullian, but ardently
believed by his contemporary, Hippolytus of Rome.
This early lack of consensus regarding Paul’s physical profile also
characterizes current depictions of his psychological profile. Whereas since
Augustine Christians have generally regarded Paul’s conversion as the
transformation of a troubled conscience, convicted of sin by the law, to a
comfortable conscience, soothed by Christ and His remedy of forgiveness,
Krister Stendahl proposes that Paul’s conscience, according to the biblical
presentation at least, was remarkably robust and rarely if ever plagued.
The former professor at the Divinity School of Harvard University first
presented this critique of the traditional analysis of Paul’s conscience, not
insignificantly, at the Annual Meeting of the American Psychological
Association on September 3, 1961. Stendahl’s thesis, which was first
published in Swedish (1960), then revised and published in English (1963), has
taken its place in Pauline scholarship as one of the pivotal essays in the
formation of what James D.G. Dunn has dubbed “the new perspective on Paul.”
According to Stendahl, the quest of the plagued conscience began with Augustine
whoseConfessions are “the
first great document in the history of introspective conscience” and climaxed
with Luther (p. 85). Prior to Augustine, the church had read Paul accurately in
terms of the question, what does the Messiah’s arrival mean for (a) the law
(not legalism) and (b) the relationship between Jews and Gentiles? Since
Augustine, the church has misread Paul in terms of the question, how can I find
a gracious God?
Luther and the subsequent reformers read Paul’s statements about faith
and works, law and gospel, Jews and Gentiles “in the framework of late medieval
piety” (pp. 85-86) such that the law quickly became associated with legalism.
“Where Paul was concerned about the possibility for Gentiles to be included in
the messianic community, his statements are now read as answers to the quest
for assurance about man’s salvation out of a common human predicament” (p. 86).
To illustrate what he means, Stendahl appeals to Luther’s understanding
of Galatians 3:24 to illustrate the
second use of the law. Whereas Paul clearly envisioned the law as the custodian
for the Jews until the arrival of the Messiah, Luther reversed the argument to
assert that the law is the schoolmaster for everyone to crush
self-righteousness and lead to Christ (pp. 86,87). Furthermore, the law is no
longer the law of Moses which has become obsolete, but God’s moral imperative
as such.
Stendahl concludes, “Paul’s argument that the Gentiles must not and
should not come to Christ via the Law, i.e., via circumcision, etc. has turned
into a statement according to which all men must come to Christ with
consciences properly convicted by the Law and its insatiable requirements for
righteousness. So drastic is the reinterpretation once the original framework
of ‘Jews and Gentiles’ is lost, and the Western problems of conscience become
its unchallenged and self-evident substitute” (p. 87).
Stendahl derives central support for this thesis from Phillippians 3:6,
where Paul alleges that prior to his conversion he kept the law blamelessly.
What he regards and discards as refuse in his prior life are not his
shortcomings in law-keeping, but his achievements and distinctions as a Jew,
from circumcision to persecuting the Christian church. This interpretation,
alleges Stendahl, finds support in the narrative of Paul’s conversion in Acts
9 which is not portrayed in terms of the restoration of a plagued
conscience (p. 80), but in terms of his calling to apostleship (p. 85).
Paul’s chief sin, according to Stendahl, was his persecution of the
church, the climax of his dedication to the Jewish faith (Gal.1.13; Phil.3.6). When Paul says that
Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom he was chief, he is not
expressing contrition in the present tense, but referring back to his career of
blaspheming and persecuting. God, however, had revealed to him his true Messiah
and made him an apostle and a prototype of sinner’s salvation (cf. Rom.5:6-11).
But what about Romans 2 and 3 which deal with the impossibility of
law-keeping? Stendahl rightly indicates that the law never expected perfection
of the Jew but made provisions for repentance and forgiveness. Paul’s objective
in these chapters is simply to show his readers that the law was helpless
to Israel because ultimately it pronounced upon her the same guilty
sentence under which the Gentiles already lived.
Paul makes these remarks, Stendahl observes, to introduce the new avenue
of salvation for Jews and Gentiles which has opened up in Christ, a salvation
not based upon law, which formerly distinguished the two. The old covenant,
with its provisions of forgiveness and grace, is no longer valid; salvation
must be found in Christ. Christ, therefore, is not the answer to a plagued
conscience, but the new avenue of salvation for both Jews and Gentiles (p. 81).
That a plagued conscience was a problem for Paul is true neither prior
to, nor after, his conversion. It is difficult to find “any evidence that Paul the Christian had suffered
under the burden of conscience regarding personal shortcomings which he would
label ‘sins'” (Italics original, p. 82). Forgiveness is the term for salvation
used least of all in Pauline writings and not at all in the “undisputed”
Pauline epistles (footnote 4, p. 82).
Paul knew that the baptized were not free from sin, but such sin apparently
did not trouble his conscience. In fact, in Acts 23:1, he says, “Brethren, I
have lived before God in all good conscience up to this day” (cf. 24:16). He
did struggle with his body (1 Cor. 9:27), but the tone is one of
confidence. Romans 9:1 and 2 Cor.1:12both witness to his good
conscience, the confidence of which reaches its highest pitch in 2 Cor.5:10ff., where Paul expresses
certainty that the Lord will approve of him. His “robust conscience is not
shaken, but strengthened by his awareness of a final judgment which has not yet
come” (cf. 1 Cor.4:4; p. 90).
To search for a statement in which Paul would speak about himself as a
sinner is futile, argues Stendahl. He does often speak of ‘weakness’ (2 Cor.11.21ff; 2 Cor. 12.9-10), but weakness is
unrelated to sin or conscience (v. 7), with the exception of Romans 5, where
‘weak’ is synonymous with sinner (p. 91).
The last section of the essay is devoted to Romans 7 about which
Stendahl asserts that Paul is involved in an argument about the law, not man’s
ego or predicament. In fact, the ego is acquitted in the words: “Now if I do
what I do not want, then it is not I
who do it, but the sin which dwells in me” (Stendahl’s
italics). If Paul were describing man’s predicament, this line of thought would
be impossible. The human impasse has been argued in Romans 1-3 and every
possible excuse has been carefully ruled out.
Paul is using the familiar anthropological distinction between what one
ought to do and what one does to distinguish good Law from bad Sin, thereby
enabling Paul to blame Sin and Flesh and to rescue Law as a good gift of God.
Subsequent interpreters did not struggle with law in the sense that Paul did
and thus reduced this passage to anthropology and the nature of man and sin.
“This is what happens when one approaches Paul with the Western question of an
introspective conscience” (p. 93). “The West for centuries has wrongly surmised
that the biblical writers were grappling with problems which no doubt are ours,
but which never entered their consciousness” (p. 95).
Stendahl’s essay, which weaves together biblical exegesis, historical
interpretation and sociological analysis, is delightfully provocative and
demonstrative of a brilliant mind. He is entirely correct in his assertion that
Western interpreters of Paul have all too often reduced the real dynamic in his
polemic, i.e., the relationship between Jews and Gentiles, to one of morbid
introspection and individual psychology and thereby all too eagerly
exchanged historia salutis for ordo salutis. His remarks about Galatians 3:24 are entirely to the
point.
Nevertheless, Stendahl’s contention that consciences troubled by sin
have their origin in Augustine and the subsequent Western mind is untenable.
King David, hardly a Westerner, enjoyed a robust conscience for the most part
(cf. 2 Sam.22:22; Pss. 7, 17, 18, 26), but also repeatedly
sought forgiveness to ease his plagued conscience. In Psalm 32, he laments,
“When I kept silent, my bones grew old, through my groaning all day long. For
day and night your hand was heavy upon me … I acknowledged my sin to you” and
in Psalm 51 he cries out, “Have mercy upon me, O God.”
Jesus presents this latter petition as the sine qua non of the believer in his
parable about the Pharisee and the tax collector in Luke 18. It was the tax
collector who went home justified because he humbled himself, beating his
breast and crying out, “God, be merciful to me a sinner!”
Luther and traditional Western interpreters, therefore, are correct to
depict the forgiveness of sins as the remedy for consciences troubled by sin
(the apostle John certainly does in 1 John 1:5-2:2); they are not always
correct in locating the biblical basis for this depiction. Stendhal is largely
on track when he accuses Western interpreters of losing sight of Paul’s chief
polemic regarding the relationship between Jews and Gentiles in their quest to
find timeless truths about the law, sin, repentance and forgiveness.
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