Introduction
Why 1 Corinthians? Why Now?
Creative theological thinking, Mary McClintock Fulkerson has noted, âoriginates at the scene of a wound.â Moreover, this theological thinking is not brought in after the wound is described, as if theology had a full-blown doctrine of God or church that is neatly applied to the wound. There is not a linear movement from theology to wound but rather a dynamic relationship between theological reflection and the wound that needs to be addressed. Theology interprets the wound and may even help one perceive the wound. But the wound also informs and shapes the theological reflection. âTheologies that matter,â Fulkerson writes, âemerge out of dilemmasâout of situations that matter. ⌠Wounds generate new thinkingâ; they generate an impulse toward creativity and change.
Paulâs creative theological thinking in 1 Corinthians has this character; it âoriginates at the scene of a wound.â The entire letter represents Paulâs theological wrestling with the deep wound of division in the Corinthian church. This wound is not simply an intellectual dilemma or a contested idea, though differing ideologies appear to be part of the problem. Rather, the wound takes shape in the embodied practices of the community, whether it be the practices of baptism, the Lordâs Supper, and preaching; the acts of taking others to court and eating meat at elite banquets; or the exercise of different spiritual gifts.
The character of the divisions in Corinth has been dissected by countless scholars. Because we know about these divisions only through Paulâs response to them, any conclusions we might draw are limited. Whatever the specifics may be, however, we can discern through the letter some general outlines. First, there were social and economic divisions, creating a hierarchy of âhighâ and âlow,â âweakâ and âstrongâ in the church. Consequently, there were tensions between the elites and those of lesser status. Indeed, this social hierarchy appears to be a central issue in the community that contributes to other divisions. Second, related to the hierarchical divisions, there were philosophical differences in the community. More than likely, these divisions revolved around popular philosophical trends that were âin the airâ rather than more formal, developed philosophical systems (e.g., Gnosticism). The elites in the community were probably more knowledgeable of these philosophical trends and more responsive to them, which led to convictions about human bodies and spiritual knowledge that were not shared by others in the community. Third, ironically, these divisions often emerged around different spiritual gifts, as Paul notes at the beginning of the letter and addresses repeatedly. Both cultural assumptions about social hierarchy and philosophical assumptions about spiritual knowledge shaped some membersâ approach to spiritual gifts, leading to hierarchy and division in that area as well. Finally, add to all these divisions the communityâs conflict with Paul himself, who not only preaches the âweakâ and âfoolishâ cross, but does so in an unimpressive rhetorical manner. The wound in Corinth is deep.
Contemporary churches in North America are currently dealing with some analogous wounds. Christian communities find themselves in a time of transition and division. And some of the divisions are not unlike those in Corinth. Tensions continue in many churches around the ordination of women. As a professor of preaching, I talk to women seminarians every year who are called to preach but not allowed into pulpits in their denominationâa prohibition often grounded in interpretations of 1 Corinthians itself. Similarly, matters of sexuality continue to divide churches, again sometimes shaped by readings of Paulâs letters, including his epistle to Corinth. How may LGBTQ+ persons participate in church leadership? Who can preach and celebrate the Lordâs Supper? Who can marry whom? Denominations and churches have split over precisely these questions, and resolution and reconciliation seem to be a long way off in many contexts.
Moreover, adding to these divisions, and sometimes shaping the response to them, contemporary churches are in a time of profound transition, which often feels like a wound. Many churches are experiencing a significant decline in both membership and influence. Demographic changes have created a new context for churches, one that is far more ethnically, culturally, and religiously diverse. Contemporary churches may in fact now be able to relate better to that miniscule church in Corinth seeking to live out its life in a wildly diverse and cosmopolitan city. In this context, the comfortable old ecclesial patterns and assumptions are dying, while it is not clear what the shape of the new will be. The church finds itself in-between, in an unsettled, liminal space. As a result, anxiety, and even fear, ooze from the churchâs wound. And often, as in Corinth, this conflict and anxiety comes to full expression in worshipâthe heart of the churchâs life. Music. Worship leadership. Wedding services. All these have become the occasion for âworship warsâ in an unsettled church.
Paul thus invites not only the Corinthians but also the contemporary church to engage in creative, transformative theology at the scene of a wound. Unfortunately, all too often interpreters have focused on Paulâs specific directives (e.g., about women or marriage), isolating them from Paulâs theology and writing them in stone. When one looks beneath the specific âpresenting issuesâ in Corinth, however, one discovers in Paulâs letter not only theological affirmations but also a theological orientation that can be generative for the contemporary church. In response to this wound, Paulâs theology has a distinctive and instructive character; it is practical, apocalyptic, hermeneutical, and fragmentary.
Practical Theology
Theology at the site of a wound is necessarily practical theology. It is theological reflection on a particular situation. Such theology, first of all, attends to the shape and demand of the situation; the structure of the wound is âas much a part of the analysis as the presence of biblical and doctrinal elements.â Second, in addressing the wound, practical theology seeks to change the situation. It is not theology for the sake of theology; it is not a purely abstract intellectual exercise. Rather, it is theological reflection âshaped by a logic of transformation.â
Paulâs practical theology in 1 Corinthians has both these characteristics. Throughout the letter Paul addresses the wound at the heart of the community, which is enacted in specific, divisive practices. The issues emerging from the scene of the wound have come to Paul in written or oral form as questions or requests. In response, Paul does not write neat, systematic theology. Rather, he engages in the messy work of practical, even pastoral, theology. His theology is in the service of the being-saved church (1:18; 15:2), not the academy or the theological guild. He speaks in medias res, as all busy pastors do. And he seeks redemptive change; he writes theology in service of the common good (e.g., 12:7); he seeks to build up the community of faith (e.g., chapters 3, 14). In so doing, he consistently seeks to discern the dynamic relationship between theology and wound.
Throughout the letter, Paul engages in the kind of practical theology described by theologian Serene Jones. The apostle is not specifically focused on one of the practical disciplines, such as pastoral care or homiletics. Rather, he approaches theology itself as a practical discipline. As Jones writes,
It has always seemed to me that any responsible Christian theologian should be, in fact, a practical theologian becauseâisnât it obviousâthe faith we teach is through and through a practical faith. It lives only insofar as it lives in the tissue of our everyday comings and goings, in our practices, and in our material, communal lives in all their complex, messy, graced fullness.
Like Jones, and like contemporary pastors, Paul does his theology in a messy âin-betweenâ spaceâin the dynamic, unsettled space where theological vision and Christian practice inform and interpret each other. As one of the Presbyterian Churchâs Historic Principles of Church Order puts it, âtruth is in order to goodness; and the great touchstone of truth, its tendency to produce holiness.â This principle echoes the character of Paulâs theology in 1 Corinthians. He is not interested in âtruth for truthâs sake.â Rather, he wrestles with the ways in which theological convictions are embodied (or not) in the practices of a Christian community as well as the ways in which the ongoing, emerging life of the being-saved church shapes those theological convictions.
Doctrinal rules only become meaningful when they are enacted in the midst of life-stories. In other words, there are no doctrines lying around waiting for me to teach them in principle, as if they could be separated from the narrative, life-filled sites of enactment. They are what they are, incarnate. ⌠What this means is that doctrines only take on life when they settle into the stuff of faithâs ongoing, practical unfolding.
In this commentary I hope to respect the practical character of Paulâs theology. The goal is not the explication of abstract doctrines or the development of a coherent theological system but rather the exploration of the messy, dynamic relationship between theological vision and ethical practice. While the specific issues facing the church change, this practical theological orientation remains critically important. Looking beneath Paulâs specific directives (e.g., on sexuality and the role of women), the church can learn from Paulâs theological wrestling and explore the creative trajectories toward which his theology points. Moreover, the church can benefit from those places where Paulâs practical theology itself contains tensions and contradictions. At the scene of a wound, Paul reminds us, theological humility is required; there is no room for boasting. For we too âsee in a mirror, dimlyâ and âknow only in partâ (13:12), even as we seek faithfully to serve the living God and build up the community of faith.
Apocalyptic Theology
Paul develops his theology within an apocalyptic framework. Although it may sound odd, Paul writes practical, apocalyptic theology. When most people think of âapocalyptic,â they probably think of a literary genreâa book like the Apocalypse of John. They imagine literature with wild, spectacular imagery and trips to heaven guided by angels and visions of the future. There are misogynistic images that demean women. There is violent warfare imagery as the battle rages between the forces of God and the forces of evil. There are swords and horses and plagues and bloodâslaughter everywhere. There are good reasons many Christians avoid apocalyptic.
Recently, however, scholars have moved beyond considering apocalyptic as a particular genre with distinctive literary and metaphorical characteristics. Rather, apocalyptic is understood more as a theological orientation that crosses many genres in Scripture. Apocalyptic is a form of theological imagination. At the heart of apocalyptic imagination is a ...