The review of Paul's life has prepared the way for the principal subject of investigation. What was the origin of the religion of Paul?

The most obvious answer to that question is that the religion of Paul was based upon Jesus. That is the answer which has always been given in the Church. The Church has always accepted the apostle Paul, not at all as a religious philosopher, but simply and solely as a witness to Jesus. If he was not a true disciple of Jesus, then the authority which he has always possessed and the influence which he has wielded have been based upon a misconception.

But exactly the same answer was given by Paul himself. Paul regarded himself as a servant of Christ, and based his whole life upon what Christ had done and what Christ was continuing to do. "It is no longer I that live," he says, "but Christ liveth in me." Unquestionably this Christ, upon whom Paul based his life, was identified by Paul with Jesus of Nazareth, a person who had lived in Palestine a few years before. A mighty change in the mode of existence of Jesus had indeed, Paul believed, been wrought by the resurrection; a life of humiliation had given place to a life of glory. But it was the same person who lived throughout. There is in the Pauline Epistles not a trace of any distinction between "Jesus" and "Christ," as though the former were the name of the historic personage who lived in Galilee and the latter the name of the risen Lord. On the contrary, the name Jesus is applied freely to the risen Lord, and the name Lord—the loftiest of all titles—is applied to the Jesus who suffered and died. It was "the Lord of glory," according to Paul, who was crucified (1 Cor. ii. 8). The same phenomenon appears everywhere in the Epistles: the Lord of glory lived the life of a servant on earth; and Jesus, the man who had recently lived in Palestine, was to be worshiped by all in heaven and on earth (Phil. ii. 10, 11).

There is, therefore, in the Pauline Epistles not the slightest trace of any gnosticizing separation between Jesus the historic person, and Christ the divine Lord. There is, moreover, as W. Morgan rightly observes,[68] not the slightest trace of any "adoptionist Christology," by which a man Jesus could be conceived of either as growing up gradually into divinity or as received into divinity by a catastrophic event like the resurrection. On the contrary, Paul says expressly that the Jesus who lived in Palestine existed, before His appearance upon earth, in the form of God; and the entrance of that person upon human life is represented as a voluntary act of love. His higher nature, therefore, existed from the beginning; indeed He was, according to Paul, the instrument in the creation of the world.

Finally, there is no trace in Paul of any doctrine of "kenosis," by which the higher nature of Christ might have been regarded as so relinquished while He was on earth that the words and deeds of the historic person would become matter of indifference. Such a representation is refuted not only by what has just been said about the application of the term "Lord" to the historic Jesus, but also by the references of Paul to actual words and deeds of Jesus. These references are few; their scantiness may require explanation. But they are sufficient to show that Paul regarded the words of the historic Jesus as possessing absolute authority and His example as normative for the Christian life.

Thus the testimony of Paul is plain. He regarded Christ as Lord and Master, and he identified that Christ fully with the Jesus who had lived but a few years before. This testimony must be faced and invalidated by those who would find the origin of Paul's religion elsewhere than in Jesus of Nazareth.

Such is the testimony of Paul. But what was the testimony of his contemporaries? In the environment of Paul were to be found some men who had been intimate friends of Jesus; presumably they were acquainted with Jesus' character and teaching. What was their attitude toward Paul? Did they regard him as an innovator with respect to Jesus, or did they admit him to the company of Jesus' true disciples? Since they knew both Jesus and Paul, their testimony as to the relationship between the two is obviously worth having. At this point appears the importance of Baur's work. It is the merit of Baur that however faulty his solution he placed at least in the forefront of interest the problem of the relationship between Paul and the intimate friends of Jesus. That relationship, Baur believed, was fundamentally a relationship of conflict; Paul and Peter, according to Baur, established at best only a modus vivendi, an agreement to disagree; really they were separated by a deep-seated difference of principle. But at this point a further problem arises. If Paul and Peter were really in disharmony, how did they ever come to be regarded as in harmony? If there was a deep-seated difference of principle between Paul and Peter, how did it come about that the Catholic Church was founded not upon Paul taken alone, or upon Peter taken alone, but upon Paul and Peter taken together?

Here, again, Baur displayed his true intellectual greatness by detecting and facing the problem. He saw clearly what has seldom been seen with equal clearness since his day, that the historian must explain the transition not only from the historical Jesus to apostolic Christianity, but from apostolic Christianity to the Old Catholic Church. And for this latter problem he proposed a solution which was not wanting in grandeur. But his solution, despite its grandeur, has succumbed. Baur's reconstruction of the second century, with the supposed gradual compromise between Pauline and Petrine Christianity, resulting finally in the Christianity of the Old Catholic Church, was one of the first elements in his system which had to be abandoned; it was destroyed, in the first place, by the criticism of A. Ritschl, and, in the second place, by the painstaking labors of Lightfoot, Zahn, Von Harnack and others, by which, through a study of second-century documents and their literary relationships, it was shown that the New Testament books cannot be scattered at will anywhere throughout the second century in the interests of a theory of development. Ritschl showed that the importance of specifically Jewish Christianity had been enormously exaggerated by Baur; and the study of patristics tended to place the New Testament books much earlier than the late dating which the theory of Baur required.

Thus Baur did not succeed in overcoming the fundamental objection raised against him by the very existence of a Church that appealed both to Peter and to Paul. If Peter and Paul were really in fundamental disharmony, how did the Church come to bring them together so confidently and at such an early time? This question has never been answered. The very existence of the Church is a refutation of Baur; the Church never could have existed unless the apostles had been in fundamental agreement.

But Baur may also be refuted directly, in a purely exegetical way, by an examination of the sources to which he himself appealed. Baur established his hypothesis of a conflict between Paul and Peter on the basis of the Pauline Epistles. Subsidiary evidence, thought to be found in other books of the New Testament, was soon shown to be illusory. Thus Baur and the early TÜbingen scholars detected an anti-Pauline polemic in the Book of Revelation, which they attributed to John the son of Zebedee. This use of the Apocalypse was soon abandoned even by Baur's own disciples. The theory of Baur, therefore, stands or falls with his interpretation of the Pauline Epistles, especially 1 and 2 Corinthians and Galatians.

The Corinthian Epistles, as has been observed in the last chapter, afford no real support to the hypothesis of an inter-apostolic conflict. There is not the slightest reason to connect the troublemakers at Corinth with the original apostles or with James; and the whole subject of the "Christ-party" in 1 Cor. i. 12 is now felt to be very obscure. The evidence of an apostolic conflict narrows down, therefore, to the second chapter of Galatians.

Undoubtedly there are expressions in that chapter which if taken alone might indicate ill-will between Paul and the Jerusalem leaders. In Gal. ii. 2, 6, for example, James and Peter and John are called "those who seemed,"[69] and in the latter verse the phrase is explained by the fuller designation, "those who seemed to be something." In Gal. ii. 9, the same persons are designated as "those who seemed to be pillars." In themselves these words are capable of an interpretation which would be derogatory to the persons so designated. The meaning might conceivably be that the Jerusalem leaders only "seemed" or "were thought" to be something, or only thought themselves to be something (compare Gal. vi. 3), whereas they really were nothing. But this interpretation is, of course, quite impossible, since Paul certainly recognized Peter and John as genuine apostles and James the brother of the Lord as a man of real authority in the Church. The most that may be maintained, therefore, is that the choice of the peculiar phrases indicates a certain irritation of Paul against the Jerusalem leaders; instead of calling them pillars (which certainly he recognized them as being) he shows his irritation, it is said, by calling them "those who were thought to be pillars."

The presence of indignant feeling in the passage must clearly be admitted; but the question is whether the indignation is directed against the Jerusalem leaders themselves or only against the Judaizers who falsely appealed to them. The latter view is correct. It must be remembered that what Paul in Gal. ii. 1-10 desires most of all to prevent is the impression that he is appealing to the Jerusalem apostles as to a higher instance. He is not basing the authority of his preaching upon any authorization that the apostles gave him; he is not saying that he has a right to be heard because those who were the pillars of the Church endorsed his message. Such a representation of the conference would have cast despite upon all the work which he had done before, and would have made it necessary for him in the future to prove constantly against all Judaizers and other opponents his agreement with the Jerusalem authorities. The profound consciousness which he had of his apostolic authority did not permit any such course of action; and such restrictions would have hindered his work wherever he went. It was absolutely essential in the economy of God that the leader of the Gentile work should have independent authority and should not be obliged to appeal again and again to authorities who were far away, at Jerusalem. Hence what Paul desires to make clear above all in Gal. ii. 1-10 is that though he appealed to the Jerusalem authorities it was not necessary for his own sake for him to appeal to them. They were great, but their greatness had absolutely nothing to do with his authority; for they added nothing to him. It was therefore not the real greatness of the original apostles which caused him to appeal to them (for he needed no authorization from any man no matter how great), but only the greatness which was attributed to them by the Judaizers. They really were great, but it was only the false use which had been made of their greatness by the Judaizers which caused him to lay his gospel before them. The Judaizers were to be refuted from the lips of the very authorities to whom they appealed.

It should be observed that the terms which are now under discussion are incapable of real translation into English. The equivalent English words might seem to imply that the reputed greatness of the Jerusalem leaders was not also a real greatness. There is no such implication in the Greek. The shortest of the phrases, which may be paraphrased "those of repute," was used in Greek sometimes in a way thoroughly honorable to the persons designated. Possibly the repetition of the phrases, which seems somewhat strange, was due to the employment of the same phrases by the Judaizing opponents. The peculiarities of the passage may perhaps be due partly to the fact that Paul is here using catchwords of his adversaries.

At any rate, if the reader refuses to interpret these expressions in a way derogatory to the original apostles, such refusal is not due merely to a pious desire to preserve harmony in the apostolic college; it is due rather to the way in which Paul himself everywhere speaks of the apostles, and to the "right hand of fellowship" which according to this very passage they extended to him. It is good exegetical method to interpret things that are obscure by things that are plain; but what is plainest of all in this passage is that the very authorities to whom the Judaizers appealed against Paul recognized the hand of God in his work and bade him Godspeed.

If Gal. ii. 1-10 affords no support to the theory of Baur, the latter part of the same chapter (Gal. ii. 11-21) is not really any more favorable. This passage does indeed attest a rebuke which Paul administered to Peter at Antioch. Peter is even accused of "hypocrisy." The Greek word[70] is indeed not quite so harsh as the English word derived from it; it means the "playing of a part" and so here the concealment of true convictions. Nevertheless, the incident remains regrettable enough; evidently real moral blame was attached by Paul to Peter's conduct. But what is really significant is that in the very act of condemning Peter's practice Paul commends his principles; he appeals to a great fund of Christian conviction which he and Peter had in common (Gal. ii. 14-21). It will not do to say that in this passage Paul is giving no report of what he said to Peter, but is expounding his own views to the Galatians. For in Gal. ii. 14 he begins to tell what he said to Peter "before them all"; and there is not the slightest indication of a break before the end of the chapter. Certainly the break cannot come after verse 14; for the thought of that verse is quite incomplete in itself and becomes intelligible only when explained by what follows. The passage is best explained, therefore, if it be taken as embodying the substance of what Paul said to Peter at Antioch, though doubtless there is no attempt at verbal reproduction of the language. At any rate, however much of Gal. ii. 14-21 be a report of what was said at Antioch, and however much be what Paul now wishes to say to the Galatians, one thing is clear—when Paul begins in verse 14 to report what he said to Peter, he means to call attention to something in which he and Peter were agreed; he means to say: "You and I, though we had all the advantages of the Law, relinquished such advantages, in order to be justified by faith in Christ. How then can we force the Gentiles to seek salvation by a way which even in our own case was futile?" Whatever else Paul said to Peter, this much he certainly said. The context makes the matter perfectly clear. It must always be remembered that Paul blames Peter not for false opinions, but for "hypocrisy"—that is, for concealment of true opinions. In verse 14, moreover, he says expressly that Peter was living after a Gentile manner. The verb is in the present tense—"if thou being a Jew livest as do the Gentiles and not as do the Jews." Paul means to say that a principle essentially similar to that of the Gentile Christians, according to which in their case the keeping of the Mosaic Law was relinquished, was the fixed basis of Peter's life. Peter's present withdrawal from the Gentiles was a mere temporary aberration. Before the coming of the men from James, he had seen clearly that the great new principle of faith in Christ took precedence of the Law, even for Jewish Christians; and after the departure of the men he would presumably revert to his old freedom. Indeed even now, even while he was withdrawing himself from his Gentile brethren, the real principle of his life had not been changed; he was still "living as do the Gentiles." But he was concealing his real life for fear of men. The very nature of the charge which Paul brought against Peter, therefore, attests a fundamental unity of principle between the two apostles. Paul condemned Peter for "hypocrisy"; not for false principles, but for concealment of true principles. In principle, therefore, Paul and Peter were agreed.

Accordingly, even the very passage which at first sight lends most color to the hypothesis of Baur, really, when it is correctly interpreted, provides the most striking refutation of that hypothesis. The very chapter which attests the appeal of Paul's bitter opponents to the original apostles, and records a sharp rebuke which Paul administered to Peter, really furnishes the best evidence of apostolic unity. It is the second chapter of Galatians which mentions the right hand of fellowship extended to Paul by James and Peter and John, and it is the second chapter of Galatians which represents the divergence between Paul and Peter as divergence of practice, not of principle. Even if the Epistle to the Galatians stood alone, it would establish the fundamental unity of the apostles. But as a matter of fact, the Epistle to the Galatians does not stand alone; it must be interpreted in the light of other sources. The one-sided interpretation of Galatians, with neglect of other epistles of Paul and of the Book of Acts, has been one of the most fruitful causes of error in the study of the apostolic age. For example, Gal. ii should never be read except in the light of 1 Cor. xv. 1-11. The two passages emphasize two different aspects of Paul's relation to those who had been apostles before him; and only when both the two aspects are considered is the full truth attained. Gal. ii emphasizes the independence of Paul's gospel; Paul had not received it through the instrumentality of men. 1 Cor. xv. 1-11 emphasizes the harmony of Paul's gospel with that of the original apostles, whom Christ had commissioned as directly and as truly as He had commissioned Paul. Both passages are contained in sources admitted by all to be sources of primary importance; yet either passage might be misunderstood if it were taken alone.

Thus the danger of interpreting Gal. ii entirely without reference to anything else is signally manifested by a comparison with 1 Cor. xv. 1-11. The First Epistle to the Corinthians must be allowed to cast light upon Galatians. But if so, may not the same privilege be granted to the Book of Acts? As a matter of fact, the privilege is being granted to the Book of Acts by a larger and larger number of modern scholars. Baur demanded that the Pauline Epistles should be interpreted by themselves, entirely without reference to Acts. But as J. Weiss[71] pertinently remarks, such interpretation is quite impossible; the Epistles taken by themselves are unintelligible; they can be interpreted only when placed in the biographical outline provided by the historian. Of course, that outline might be discredited by a comparison with the Epistles; the divergences might really be contradictions. Comparison of Acts with the Epistles is therefore a matter of fundamental importance. But that comparison, as it has been undertaken at some length in the two preceding chapters of the present discussion, has resulted favorably to the Book of Acts. The divergences between Acts and Pauline Epistles are no more to be regarded as contradictions than are the divergences between various passages in the Epistles themselves; and at many points the historical work casts a flood of light upon the words of Paul.

Thus the imposing construction of Baur was erected by neglecting all sources except Galatians and Corinthians, and then by misinterpreting these. When all the available sources are used, and estimated at their true value, the hypothesis of a fundamental conflict between Paul and the original apostles disappears. There was indeed a bitter conflict in the apostolic age, but, as Ritschl observed against Baur, it was a conflict not between Paul and the original apostles, but between all the apostles, including both Paul and Peter, on the one side, and an extreme Judaizing party on the other. The extreme Judaizing party, not having the support of the original disciples of Jesus, soon ceased to be influential. The various sects of schismatic Jewish Christians which appear in the second century—"Ebionites" and the like—if they had any roots at all the apostolic age (which is more than doubtful), could trace their spiritual descent not from the original apostles, but from the Judaizers. It is no wonder then that they were left behind in the march of the Church. They were left behind not because Peter was left behind—for Peter appears as at least one of the foundations upon which the Old Catholic Church was built—but because Peter had left them behind, or rather because Peter had never given them his support at all. They were left behind because from the beginning their spiritual ancestors in the apostolic age had not really belonged with apostolic Christianity, but had been "false brethren privily brought in."

One fact, indeed, still requires explanation. If Paul and the original apostles were in such perfect agreement, how is it that the Judaizers in the apostolic age could appeal to the original apostles against Paul? The existence of that appeal cannot altogether be denied. The exact nature of the appeal is not indeed altogether clear. It is by no means clear that the Judaizers appealed to the original apostles in support of the content of the Judaizing message; it is by no means clear that they made Peter or James teach the necessity of the Mosaic Law for salvation. What is clear is only that they appealed to the original apostles in their personal attack against Paul; they contrasted Paul, who had become a disciple only after the crucifixion, with those who had been intimate with Jesus. They used Peter to discredit the apostolic authority of Paul, but it is not so clear that they used Peter to discredit the content of Paul's message.

If, however, they did appeal to Peter in this latter way, if they did appeal to Peter in support of their legalistic contentions, such an appeal does not overthrow the conclusions which have just been reached about the harmony of Peter and Paul; it does not really make Peter an advocate of legalism. For even if Peter was not an advocate of legalism the appeal of the Judaizers to him can be explained. It can be explained not by the principles of Peter, but by his practice. The early disciples in Jerusalem continued to observe the Jewish fasts and feasts; they continued in diligent attendance upon the Temple services. Outwardly, they were simply devout Jews; and the manner of their life might therefore have given some color to the Judaizing contentions.

Inwardly, it is true, the early disciples were not simply devout Jews; they were really trusting for their salvation no longer to their observance of the Law but to Jesus their Saviour. The whole spirit of their lives, moreover, was quite different from that which prevailed in legalistic Judaism; anxious thought for the morrow, gloomy contemplation of the triumphs of the oppressor, had given place to exultant joy. The early disciples, indeed, like the Jews, were still waiting for the establishment of the kingdom of God. But their waiting was no longer full of sorrow. The Messiah was taken from them for a time; but He had already appeared and had brought salvation.

Thus the early Jerusalem Church was really quite distinct from contemporary Judaism; the real principle of its life was fresh and new. But to a superficial observer, on account of the continuance of old customs, the new principle might not appear; to a superficial observer, the observance of Jewish customs on the part of the early disciples might seem to be legalism. And certainly the Judaizers were superficial. Apparently they had come into the Church in the period of quiet that followed the persecution of Stephen; they had come in from the sect of the Pharisees, and they continued to be Pharisees at heart. As Pharisees they welcomed the coming of the Messiah, but they did not understand the teaching of this Messiah. They looked for a continuance of the prerogatives of Israel. Jesus was the Messiah, but was He not the Jewish Messiah, would He not bring about the triumph of the chosen people? Would not all the peoples of the earth come to do obeisance to Israel by submitting to Israel's Law? To such observers, the Jewish practice of the original apostles would furnish welcome support; these observers would not care to look beneath the surface; they would say simply to the Gentile Christians of Galatia: "The original disciples of Jesus obey the Mosaic Law; must not you do likewise?"

At a later time such an appeal could not have been made; at a later time even the practice of the original apostles ceased to conform to Jewish custom. The tradition according to which the apostle Peter finally went to Rome is emerging triumphant[72] from the fires of criticism; and if Peter went to Rome, it is inconceivable that he separated himself from Gentile Christians. Even in the early days, in Antioch, he had begun to abandon his Jewish manner of life; surely he must have abandoned it more fully when he went to the capital of the Gentile world. The tradition as to the Ephesian residence of the apostle John also points to the abandonment of the Law on the part of the original apostles, and to their definite entrance upon the Gentile mission. That tradition has been rejected only by attending to late and dubious evidence to the neglect of what is plain. But it is not necessary to appeal to details. All that has been said above about the position of Peter in the mind of the Church shows that even the practice of the original apostles finally adapted itself to the needs of the expanding Gentile work.

But in the early period, in Jerusalem, before it had become evident that the Jewish people as such was to reject the gospel message, the apostles continued to observe the Law. And by doing so, they gave the Judaizers some color of support. Thus if the Judaizers did appeal to the original apostles in support of their legalistic claims, the appeal does not establish any real unity of principle between them and the original apostles, or any divergence of principle between the original apostles and Paul. But as a matter of fact it is by no means perfectly clear that the appeal was made; it is by no means clear that the Judaizers appealed to the original apostles for the content of their legalistic message rather than merely for their attack upon the independent apostleship of Paul. It is possible that they said no more than this: "Paul was not one of the original disciples of Jesus; his authority is merely a derived authority; he is, therefore, no more worthy to be heard than we; and we can tell you something new—the followers of the Messiah must unite themselves with the chosen people and obey the Law of God."

At any rate, even if the Judaizers did appeal to the original apostles for the content of their message, the appeal was a false appeal; the original apostles repudiated the Judaizers, and recognized Paul as a true apostle, with authorization as direct as their own.

Thus Baur was wrong. But suppose Baur were right about the point which has just been discussed; suppose even the most impossible admissions be made; suppose it be granted that the original apostles differed fundamentally from Paul. Even then the testimony of the original apostles to the true connection between Paul and Jesus is not invalidated. For even if the original apostles differed fundamentally from Paul, the difference concerned only the place of the Mosaic Law in the Christian economy, and did not concern the Pauline conception of the person of Christ. So much at least must be insisted upon against Baur. The really astounding fact, which emerges from all discussion of the apostolic age, is that the Pauline conception of the person of Christ, whatever may be said of the Pauline doctrine of Gentile freedom, was never criticized by the original apostles. Indeed, so far as can be seen, it was never criticized even by the Judaizers themselves. Apparently it never occurred to Paul that his conception of the heavenly Christ required defense. About other things there was controversy; the doctrine of Christian freedom, for example, had to be defended against all sorts of objections and by the use of all sorts of evidence. But about the person of Christ there was not one word of debate. "Not by man but by Jesus Christ," Paul says at the beginning of Galatians. Evidently the Judaizers said, "Not by Jesus Christ but by man." But apparently it never occurred to Paul that any one might say, "By Jesus Christ and therefore by man." The Judaizers, apparently, as well as Paul, recognized the alternative between Jesus Christ and man; like Paul they separated Jesus Christ from ordinary humanity and placed Him on the side of God. The same phenomenon appears everywhere in the Pauline Epistles—the tremendous doctrine of the person of Christ is never defended, but always assumed. Indeed, in the earlier epistles the doctrine is never even set forth in any systematic way; it is simply presupposed. In Colossians, indeed, it is more definitely set forth, and apparently in opposition to errorists who failed to recognize its full implications. Even in ColossÆ, however, the doctrine does not seem to have been denied; the errorists apparently did not deny the supreme place of Jesus in the scale of being, but merely erred in attaching undue importance to other beings. What is really significant in Colossians is the character of the errorists. Evidently they were not conservative disciples, who appealed against the heavenly Christ of Paul to the facts about the historic Jesus. On the contrary, they were gnostics, engaged in unhistorical speculations, and as far removed as possible from anything that primitive Palestinian Christianity might conceivably have been. So when Paul first has to defend his doctrine of the exclusive and supreme importance of Christ, he defends it not against conservative disciples, who could appeal either with or without reason to the original apostles, but against gnostic speculation. With regard to the person of Christ Paul appears everywhere in perfect harmony with all Palestinian Christians.

The fact is of such importance that it must be examined in the light of all possible objections. Is there any trace in the Pauline Epistles of a primitive view of Jesus different from the lofty Christology of Paul?

One such trace has occasionally been found in 2 Cor. v. 16. In that verse, after Paul has spoken of the complete break that comes in a man's life when he accepts the benefits of Christ's death, he says: "Wherefore we henceforth know no man after the flesh: even though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now we know him so no more." Some interpreters have discovered in the words, "even though we have known Christ after the flesh," a reference to a fleshly conception of Christ which laid stress upon His Davidic descent, His connection with the Jewish people, and in general His ordinary human relationships, to the neglect of His higher, divine nature. That fleshly conception of Christ might then be regarded as the primitive conception, which Paul himself shared until a mature stage of his Christian life. But this latter suggestion is excluded not only by the whole tenor of the Epistles (in which Paul never displays the slightest consciousness of any such revolution in his idea of Christ), but also especially by the present passage. The passage deals with the complete and immediate break which comes in a man's way of thinking when the death of Christ becomes representative of him—that is, at the beginning of his Christian life. It is therefore entirely out of accord with the context to suppose that Paul is contrasting an immature stage of his own Christian life with the present mature stage. But he is also not alluding to any lower, fleshly conception of Christ as being held by others. The interpretation which finds in the passage a human Messiah in contrast to the divine Christ of Paul, errs fundamentally in making the words "according to the flesh" modify "Christ," whereas as a matter of fact they clearly modify the verb "know." Paul says not, "Even if we have known a Christ according to the flesh, we know such a Christ no longer," but, "Even if we have known Christ with a fleshly kind of knowledge, we know Him in such a way no longer." He is not speaking of two different conceptions of Christ, but of two different ways of knowing Christ. There is in the passage, therefore, not the slightest reference to any primitive conception of the person of Christ different from Paul's conception.

In 2 Cor. xi. 4 Paul speaks of "another Jesus" whom his opponents in Corinth were proclaiming or might proclaim. Was this "other Jesus" the historical Jesus, in distinction from the heavenly Christ of Paul? Does this verse refer to a primitive, Palestinian conception of Jesus different from the conception held by Paul?

The verse is certainly very difficult; it constitutes a famous crux interpretum. But just for that reason, it should not be made the foundation for far-reaching theories. There is not the slightest hint elsewhere in 2 Corinthians that the opponents presented a view of the person of Christ different from that of Paul; indeed what is characteristic of the polemic in this Epistle is that doctrinal questions are absent. There is not even any evidence that the opponents, though apparently they laid stress upon Jewish descent, Palestinian connections, and the like, and so may perhaps loosely be called "Judaizers," insisted upon the keeping of the Mosaic Law. Apparently Paul does not feel required to defend the content of his gospel at all. Certainly he does not feel required to defend his doctrine of the person of Christ. But if the opponents had really proclaimed a human Jesus different from the divine Christ of Paul, it is inconceivable that Paul should not have defended his view. If there is one thing that is fundamental in the religion of Paul, it is his conception of Christ as divine Redeemer. Any denial of that conception would certainly have called forth anathemas at least as severe as those which were hurled against the legalists in Galatia. Yet in 2 Cor. x-xiii, though these chapters contain perhaps the bitterest polemic to be found anywhere in the Pauline Epistles, there is no trace of any defense of the Pauline conception of the person of Christ. The natural suggestion is that such defense is absent because it was not called forth by anything that the opponents said. It is adventurous exegetical procedure to hang a heavy weight upon the very obscure verse, 2 Cor. xi. 4.

As a matter of fact, however, the obscurities of that verse are not hopeless, and rightly interpreted the verse contains no hint of a primitive conception of Jesus different from that which was proclaimed by Paul. The translation of the American Revised Version may first be presented as a basis of discussion, though it is probably incorrect in important particulars. In that version the three verses 2 Cor. xi. 4-6[73] read as follows: "For if he that cometh preacheth another Jesus, whom we did not preach, or if ye receive a different spirit, which ye did not receive, or a different gospel, which ye did not accept, ye do well to bear with him. 5 For I reckon that I am not a whit behind the very chiefest apostles. 6 But though I be rude in speech, yet am I not in knowledge; nay, in every way have we made this manifest unto you in all things." By a modification of this translation at the end of verse 4, the whole passage might mean: "Bear with me in my boasting. I am 'boasting' or defending myself only in order that you may not be deceived by the opponent who comes to you. For if he comes arrogantly proclaiming another Jesus, another Spirit, and another gospel, ye bear with him only too well. Bear with me then when I defend myself. For I am not a bit behind these 'preËminent' apostles,[74] since despite what they say I have really made the whole truth known to you."

Even according to this interpretation there is no real reference to a Jesus of the opponents different from Paul's Jesus. The "other Jesus" of the opponents existed, rather, merely in their own inordinate claims. They had no other Jesus, no other Spirit, and no other gospel to offer. They asserted, indeed, that the teaching of Paul was insufficient; they asserted that they had fuller information about Jesus, about the Spirit, and about the gospel. They said, "Paul has not made the full truth known to you." Yet they had really nothing new to offer. Paul had really given to the Corinthians the whole Jesus, the whole Spirit, and the whole gospel.

As a matter of fact, however, this interpretation is unsatisfactory. It is obliged to supply a link to connect verse 4 with verse 5—namely, the thought, "Bear with me." That thought is here entirely unexpressed; verse 1, where it is expressed, is too far back to be in view. Thus if the pronoun "him" is supplied with the verb at the end of verse 4, there is no clear connection with verse 5; the "for" of verse 5 is very obscure. If, however, the pronoun "me," not "him," is supplied with the verb at the end of verse 4, all is plain. Since the pronoun does not appear at all in the Greek, the translator is free to supply it as the context demands; and the context apparently demands the pronoun "me." The meaning of the passage is then as follows: "Bear with me in my 'boasting.' My boasting is undertaken to prevent you from being deceived. For if the one who comes to you seeks to commend himself by claiming fuller knowledge of Jesus, the Spirit, or the gospel, then you do well to bear with me in my boasting, you do well to listen to my defense. For I am not afraid of the comparison with the opponent. It is not true that I have concealed from you anything about Jesus, about the Spirit, or about the gospel; on the contrary I have made everything known to you."

The exegetical question is somewhat complicated by a question of the text in verse 4. Manuscript evidence is rather evenly divided between the present tense of the verb at the end of the verse and the imperfect tense.[75] Unquestionably the imperfect tense is the more difficult reading; it is favored therefore by the well-known principle of textual criticism that the more difficult reading is to be preferred to the easier. If the imperfect be read, it may perhaps be explained as the imperfect tense in the apodosis of a condition contrary to fact; there would then be a transition from one form of condition to another. Paul would then say: "If he who comes is preaching another Jesus, another Spirit, and another gospel—if such were the case you would do well to bear with my defense of my own preaching." If indeed the pronoun "him" be supplied at the end of verse 4, as is usually done, the imperfect might be taken simply as referring to past time, and the meaning would be: "If he who comes is preaching another Jesus, another Spirit, and another gospel—when that took place ye were bearing with the newcomer only too well." But even so the imperfect is extremely harsh, and on the whole it is more probable that it has crept in by a copyist's error—perhaps in conformity to the same imperfect in verse 1, where the imperfect is used to express a wish.

What has caused the vast majority of commentators to supply "him" rather than "me" at the end of verse 4 is apparently the parallel with 2 Cor. xi. 19, 20, where Paul certainly expresses the thought, "Bear with me, for you bear with my arrogant opponents only too well." The parallel does indeed constitute the strongest argument in favor of the ordinary view of verse 4 which supplies the pronoun "him," and regards the adverb "well" as sarcastic—"only too well." But the argument is not decisive. The connection with verse 5 really fixes the pronoun which is to be supplied at the end of the preceding verse. Paul is defending himself against the charge, implied in verse 6, that he had not made the full truth known. The opponents had claimed to have further information about Jesus, the Spirit, and the gospel. "But," says Paul, "if that is their claim, ye do well to listen to my defense. For I have made Jesus and the Spirit and the gospel just as fully known to you as they have." The thought is perfectly clear if only the pronoun "me" be supplied at the end of verse 4.

If, however, exegetical tradition be followed, and the pronoun "him" be supplied, the essential implications of the passage are not really different. In no case is anything said about a conception of Jesus really differing from that of Paul. One interpretation, indeed, definitely excludes such an implication. The passage may mean, "If the one who comes to you preaches another Jesus—in that case you would do well to bear with him. But as a matter of fact there is only one Jesus. Therefore you will do well to be content with me. For I have made Jesus fully known to you." According to this interpretation, which has much to be said in its favor, Paul refutes the opponents and their arrogant claims of bringing something superior to Paul's message, by a reference to the obvious fact that there is only one Jesus. "If they had another Jesus," Paul says, "then they might claim to bring you something that I did not bring. But since, unfortunately for them, there is of course only one Jesus, and since I made that Jesus fully known to you, they cannot maintain any superiority." This interpretation is probably to be preferred among all those which supply the pronoun "him" rather than "me" at the end of verse 4.

At any rate, whichever interpretation be adopted, Paul would surely have expressed himself very differently if the opponents had presented an account of Jesus radically contradictory to his own. In that case he could hardly have appealed merely to the completeness of his presentation. Instead, he would have had to establish the truth of his presentation. As it is, the "other Jesus" of the Judaizers existed only in their own inordinate claims. They really had no other Jesus to offer; Paul had made the whole Jesus known. The passage contains no hint, therefore, of a primitive conception of Jesus differing from the lofty conception proclaimed by Paul.

Thus the Pauline Epistles contain not the slightest trace of any conflict with regard to the person of Christ. About other things there was debate, but about this point Paul appears to have been in harmony with all Palestinian Christians. Even the Judaizers seem to have had no objection to the heavenly Christ of Paul. But if the Judaizers, who were Paul's bitter opponents, had no objection to Paul's view of Christ, it could only have been because the original apostles on this point gave them not even that slight color of support which may have been found with regard to the way of salvation in the apostles' observance of the Law. The fact is of enormous importance. The heavenly Christ of Paul was also the Christ of those who had walked and talked with Jesus of Nazareth.

Let it not be said that this conclusion involves an undue employment of the argument from silence; let it not be said that although the original apostles did not share Paul's conception of the heavenly Christ, Paul did not find it necessary to enter into the debate in his Epistles. For on this matter Paul could not possibly have kept silent. He was not in the habit of keeping silent when the essential things of his gospel were called in question—the anathemas which he pronounced against the Judaizers in Galatia and the sharp rebuke which he administered to the chief of the apostles at Antioch are sufficient proof of his fearlessness. But what can possibly be regarded as essential to his gospel if it was not his doctrine of Christ as divine Redeemer? That doctrine was the very warp and woof of his being; without it he was less than nothing. Yet the historian is asked to believe that Paul submitted tamely, without a word of protest, to the presentation of a purely human Jesus. The thing is unthinkable. Paul would not have submitted to the preaching of such a Jesus if the preachers had all been angels from heaven.

What is really most significant in the Pauline Epistles therefore, is the complete absence of any defense of the Pauline doctrine of Christ, the complete absence, indeed, of any systematic presentation of that doctrine. The Pauline view of Christ is everywhere presupposed, but nowhere defended. The phenomenon is very strange if the modern naturalistic account of Jesus be correct. According to that account, the historical Jesus, a great and good man, came after His death to be regarded as a divine Redeemer; one conception of Jesus gave place to a very different conception. Yet the surprising thing is that the mighty transition has left not the slightest trace in the primary sources of information. The chief witness to the transcendent conception of Jesus as divine Redeemer is quite unconscious of introducing anything new; indeed he expressly calls attention to the harmony of his proclamation with that of the intimate friends of Jesus. There is only one possible conclusion—the heavenly Christ of Paul was also the Christ of those who had lived with Jesus of Nazareth. They had seen Jesus subject to all the petty limitations of human life; they had seen Him hungry and thirsty and weary; they had toiled with Him over the hills of Galilee; yet they gave the right hand of fellowship to one who regarded Him as the divine Redeemer seated on the throne of all being, and they were quite unconscious of any conflict between their view and his.

Thus Paul was not regarded as an innovator with respect to Jesus by Jesus' intimate friends. He was not regarded as an innovator even with regard to those elements in his message—such as freedom from the Law—about which no definite guidance was to be found in the teaching or example of Jesus. Still less was he regarded as an innovator in his account of Jesus' person. With regard to that matter even the Judaizers did not venture to disagree.

But if Paul regarded himself, and was regarded by the original apostles, as a true disciple of Jesus, how did he obtain the necessary knowledge of Jesus' life? Was his knowledge limited to intuition or remote hearsay; or had he opportunities for authentic information?

That question has really been answered by the outline of Paul's life in Chapters II and III. It has been shown that even before his conversion, in Palestine, Paul must have become acquainted with the facts about Jesus' life and death. The facts were common property; even indifference could not have made a man completely ignorant of them. But far from being indifferent, Paul was deeply interested in Jesus, since he was an active persecutor of Jesus' disciples. After the conversion, Paul was undoubtedly baptized, and undoubtedly came into some contact with Christians in Damascus. The presumption is strongly in favor of the presence there of some who had known Jesus in the days of His flesh; the independence of which Paul is speaking in Galatians is independence over against the Jerusalem apostles, not over against humble disciples in Damascus, and it does not relate to information about details. Three years after the conversion Paul visited Peter at Jerusalem, and also met James the brother of Jesus. It is quite inconceivable that the three men avoided the subject of Jesus' words and deeds. The fifteen days spent with Peter at Jerusalem brought Paul into contact with the most intimate possible source of information about Jesus.

According to the Book of Acts, Paul came into contact with Barnabas at the time of his first Jerusalem visit. Whatever may be thought of this detail, the later association of Barnabas with Paul, at Antioch and on the first missionary journey, is generally or universally recognized as historical. It is confirmed by the association of the two men at the time of the conference with the Jerusalem pillars (Gal. ii. 1). Thus Paul spent several years in the most intimate association with Barnabas. Who then was Barnabas? According to Acts iv. 36, 37, he was a man of Cyprus by descent, but he was also a member of the primitive Jerusalem Church. The kind of information contained in this passage represents just that element in the early chapters of Acts which is being generally accepted by recent criticism. With regard to the community of goods in the early Jerusalem Church, it is sometimes supposed that the author of Acts has erred in generalizing and exalting to the position of a principle what was really done in many cases by generous individuals. But in order that there might be unhistorical generalization, there must have been something to generalize. Details, therefore, like the generous act of Barnabas in selling a field and devoting the proceeds to the needs of the brethren, are thought to constitute the solid tradition with which the author of Acts is operating. Objections in plenty may be raised against this treatment of the narrative as a whole, but certainly the concreteness of the little detached note about Barnabas makes a specially favorable impression. It will probably be admitted to-day by the majority of scholars that Barnabas really had a place in the primitive Jerusalem Church. But if so, his close connection with Paul is of the utmost importance. How could Paul possibly have been for years intimately associated with Barnabas in the proclamation of the gospel without becoming acquainted with the facts about Jesus? Is it to be supposed that Barnabas, who had lived at Jerusalem, proclaimed Jesus as Saviour without telling in detail what sort of person Jesus had been, and what He had said and done? Or is it to be supposed that Paul closed his ears to what his brother missionary said?

At the beginning of the first missionary journey, Barnabas and Paul were accompanied by John Mark, and Mark appears again in the company of Paul, as one of Paul's trusted helpers, in Col. iv. 10 and Philem. 24. This John Mark certainly came from the Jerusalem Church; for the house of his mother is mentioned as a meeting-place for the Jerusalem disciples in the incomparably vivid account in Acts xii. 1-17 of the escape of Peter from prison. Whatever may be thought of the Book of Acts as a whole, the twelfth chapter is recognized as embodying primitive tradition. Even Wellhausen was somewhat impressed with the lifelike detail of this narrative; the chapter, Wellhausen admitted, contains elements of high historical value.[76] Certainly, then, the mother of John Mark and presumably Mark himself were members of the primitive Jerusalem Church. Tradition, moreover, as preserved by Papias of Hierapolis, connects Mark with Peter and represents the Second Gospel (attributed to Mark) as based upon Peter's preaching.[77] The connection of Mark with Peter is confirmed by 1 Peter v. 13. In general, recent criticism is favorably disposed toward the Papian tradition about the Second Gospel; that tradition is often admitted to have some basis in fact. Of course the words of Papias about Mark's connection with Peter naturally refer, at least in part, to a time later than the formative period of Paul's life. But no doubt the later relationship was at least prepared for in the early days when Mark and Peter were together in Jerusalem.[78] John Mark, therefore, constitutes an important link, not only between Paul and the Jerusalem Church, but also between Paul and one of the most intimate friends of Jesus. Paul would have been able to learn the facts about Jesus' life from Mark if he had not learned them elsewhere.

The conference between Paul and the Jerusalem leaders, described in Gal. ii. 1-10, whether or no it was identical with the Apostolic Council of Acts xv. 1-29, would naturally bring an enrichment in Paul's knowledge of Jesus' earthly ministry. It is hardly to be supposed that at the conference any more than at the first visit of Paul to Jerusalem the subject of the words and deeds of Jesus was carefully avoided. Such avoidance would have been possible only if the Jerusalem Church itself had been indifferent to its own reminiscences of Jesus' earthly ministry. But that the Jerusalem Church was not indifferent to its own reminiscences is proved by the preservation (evidently at Jerusalem) of the tradition contained in the Gospels. The existence of the Gospels shows that the memory of Jesus' words and deeds was carefully treasured up in the Jerusalem Church from the earliest times. Paul could hardly have come into contact with such a church without obtaining information about Jesus. He could not have failed to obtain information even if he had been anxious to avoid it. But as a matter of fact he was not anxious to avoid it; his apostolic independence, as will be observed below, does not really presuppose any such absurd attitude on his part.

On the third missionary journey Paul was accompanied by Silas (the "Silvanus" of the Pauline Epistles). According to the Book of Acts, Silas, like Barnabas and Mark, came originally from the Jerusalem Church, though his connection with Jerusalem is not traced so far back. He is said to have been one of the two men who accompanied the Apostolic Decree from Jerusalem to Antioch (Acts xv. 27). This assertion of course will not escape unchallenged. It shares no doubt to some extent the criticism which has been directed against the Decree itself. But the tendency in recent years is to find a larger and larger historical basis for the concrete assertions of the author of Acts. So the mention of Judas and Silas as coming from Jerusalem creates a favorable impression. It cannot be ruled out merely because it stands only in Acts, or merely because it is connected with the Decree. Even the Decree, it will be remembered, is now often admitted to be a Decree of the Jerusalem Church or to represent the substance of such a decree, even by those scholars who suppose that Acts is wrong in representing Paul as being present when the Decree was passed. The tradition which lies back of Acts xv, therefore, cannot lightly be rejected. There is certainly some evidence, therefore, for connecting Silas with the Jerusalem Church. Of course, if the narrative in Acts be accepted as it stands, as it is being accepted more and more generally to-day, then the connection of Silas with the Jerusalem Church is firmly established. That connection is not without its importance. It shows that even when engaged in his specifically Gentile work, Paul had not shut himself off from the sources of information about Jesus.

The mention of Andronicus and Junias in Rom. xvi. 7 is not without interest. According to the most natural interpretation of the verse, Andronicus and Junias are declared to have been in Christ before Paul was in Christ. They were, therefore, primitive disciples. Certain other details are more obscure. Does Paul mean that Andronicus and Junias were themselves "apostles," the word "apostle" being used here in a broad sense? In that case, the verse may be translated, "Salute Andronicus and Junias, my kinsmen and fellow-prisoners, who are noteworthy among the apostles who were before me in Christ." Or is it merely said that Andronicus and Junias were regarded highly by the apostles, had a good reputation among them? In that case, the relative pronoun is no doubt to be taken with the words "Andronicus and Junias" rather than with the word "apostles"; and two details are mentioned: (1) that Andronicus and Junias had a good reputation among the apostles, and (2) that they were converted earlier than Paul. Also the meaning of the word translated "kinsmen" is doubtful. The word may mean merely "members of the same race," that is, "Jews"; or it may mean "members of the same family," that is, "relatives." Still another interpretation is favored by BÖhlig, who thinks that the word designates Andronicus and Junias as members of the Jewish colony at Tarsus, the boyhood home of Paul.[79] But however the interesting exegetical problems may be solved, it seems evident that Andronicus and Junias had become Christians earlier than Paul, and that they were therefore representatives of primitive Christianity. The presence of such men in the Church at Rome—or in the Church at Ephesus, if the common separation of Rom. xvi. from the rest of Romans (on insufficient grounds) be adopted—is interesting. It exemplifies the kind of personal connection that was undoubtedly maintained between primitive Christianity and the Gentile churches. Even far away in the Gentile world Paul was not altogether removed from contact with those who had been Christians before him. Wherever and however Andronicus and Junias had become disciples, whether in Jerusalem or elsewhere, whether by the instrumentality of Jesus Himself or by the instrumentality of His apostles, in any case they had become disciples in the very earliest days of the Church's life. It is hardly to be supposed that they were ignorant of the facts about Jesus, and in all probability there were other such persons, even in Pauline churches.

But it is not necessary to lay stress upon Andronicus and Junias, when Peter and James and Barnabas and Mark all came into close contact with Paul. Paul had abundant opportunity for acquainting himself with the words and deeds of Jesus.

Three important facts have thus far been established; (1) Paul regarded himself as a disciple of Jesus of Nazareth, (2) he was so regarded by the intimate friends of Jesus, (3) he had abundant sources of information about Jesus' life. The natural conclusion is that Paul was a true disciple of the real Jesus.

This conclusion is thought to be overthrown by two considerations. In the first place, it is said, Paul himself attests his own indifference to historical information about Jesus; and in the second place, such indifference is confirmed by the paucity of references in the Epistles to Jesus' words and deeds. These two considerations lead into the heart of the problem, and must be examined with some care.

The indifference of Paul toward historical information about Jesus is thought to be attested chiefly by 2 Cor. v. 16 and by the Epistle to the Galatians. In 2 Cor. v. 16 Paul says, "Even if we have known Christ according to the flesh, yet now we know Him so no more." What can these words mean, it is asked, except that ordinary information about Jesus, dealing with the details of His earthly life, the kind of information that one man can obtain of another by sight and hearing, has become valueless for the Christian? The Christian, Paul says, is interested not at all in what eyewitnesses may say or in what he himself may remember about the earthly life of Jesus; he is interested only in the direct contact which he has at present with the risen Lord.

This interpretation ignores the fact that the assertion in 2 Cor. v. 16 about the knowledge of Christ is only an application of the general assertion at the beginning of the verse about the knowledge of persons in general. "So that," says Paul, "we from now on know no one after the flesh." Paul says, therefore, not only that he does not know Christ after the flesh, but also that he does not know any man after the flesh, and the two assertions must obviously be interpreted in the same way. Therefore the interpretation which has been proposed for the knowledge of Christ, if it is to commend itself, must also be applied to the knowledge of every man.

But when it is so applied it results in absurdity. It would make Paul indifferent not only to ordinary information about Jesus, but also to ordinary information about men in general. But as a matter of fact Paul was not indifferent to ordinary information about men in general. On the contrary, he was exceedingly careful about getting information just as accurate as could possibly be secured. Was Paul a visionary, with his head always in the clouds, indifferent to the concrete problems of individual men, indifferent to what men had to tell him about their various earthly relationships, indifferent to their bodily needs? The First Epistle to the Corinthians is a magnificent refutation of such a caricature. That Epistle represents Paul as a pastor of souls, unsurpassed in his insight into the practical problems of his converts, unsurpassed in the tact with which he applied great principles to special circumstances. But the same characteristics appear everywhere in Paul. Everywhere Paul is the true friend, the true patriot, and the true man; everywhere he exhibits that careful attention to detail, that careful recognition of special relationships, which is lacking in genuinely mystical piety. Some pastors are accustomed to say the same thing no matter what questions are laid before them; they can only enunciate general principles without applying them to special problems; they are incapable of special friendships and incapable of analyzing actual situations. It is not so in the case of Paul. In the Pauline Epistles special problems are solved in the light of eternal principles; but the special problems as well as the eternal principles are subjected to the most careful examination. Paul was not indifferent to ordinary knowledge of his fellow-men.

Thus when Paul says that he knows no man after the flesh he does not mean that he ignored the ordinary knowledge which comes through sight and hearing. But if that kind of knowledge is not excluded from the relations between Paul and men in general, it is also not excluded from the relations between Paul and Christ; for the latter part of the verse is evidently placed in parallel with the former part. It is evidently the same kind of knowledge which is excluded in both cases. Paul does not mean, therefore, that he was indifferent to ordinary sources of information about Christ.

What he does mean is that he regarded those ordinary sources of information not as an end in themselves, but as a means to an end. The natural man according to Paul does not understand the true significance of the words and deeds of his fellow-men; he does not use them to attest spiritual facts. The man who is in Christ, on the contrary, even when he uses ordinary means of information, is acquiring knowledge of spiritual relationships, relationships which exist in the new world. So it is also with the knowledge of Christ. The natural man may acquire a certain knowledge of Christ; he may learn what Christ said and did and what were the worldly circumstances of His life. But such knowledge is a knowledge according to the flesh; it does not attain to the true significance even of those facts which are learned. The man who is in Christ, on the other hand, may operate partly with the same materials; but even when he is operating with the same materials, even when he is obtaining by sight or by hearsay knowledge of the words and deeds of Jesus, these facts now are invested with a higher significance. The natural man detects only the outward appearance of the words and deeds of Jesus; the man who is in Christ makes them attest facts that have significance in the new world. No doubt the higher knowledge of Christ of which Paul is speaking is not limited to this spiritual use of ordinary sources of information; no doubt there is also a direct intercourse between the believer and the risen Lord. But the spiritual use of the ordinary sources of information is certainly not excluded. Paul does not mean that he was indifferent to what Jesus said and did.

Thus 2 Cor. v. 16, rightly interpreted, does not attest any indifference on the part of Paul toward the information about Jesus which came to him through contact with Jesus' disciples. Such indifference, however, is also thought to be attested by the Epistle to the Galatians. In Gal. i, ii, Paul emphasizes his complete independence over against the original disciples. He received his gospel, he says, not by the instrumentality of men, but by direct revelation from the risen Christ. Even after the revelation he felt no need of instruction from those who had been apostles before him. It was three years before he saw any of them, and then he was with Peter only fifteen days. Even when he did finally have a conference with the original apostles, he received nothing from them; they recognized that God had already entrusted him with his gospel and that they had nothing to add. What can this passage mean, it is asked, except that Paul was indifferent to tradition, and derived his knowledge of Christ entirely from revelation?

In answer, it is sufficient to point to 1 Cor. xv. 1-11. Was Paul indifferent to tradition? In 1 Cor. xv. 3 he himself attests the contrary; he places tradition—something that he had received—at the very foundation of his missionary preaching. "For I delivered unto you among the first things," he says, "that which I also received." The word "received" here certainly designates information obtained by ordinary word of mouth, not direct revelation from the risen Christ; and the content of what was "received" fixes the source of the information pretty definitely in the fifteen days which Paul spent with Peter at Jerusalem. It is almost universally admitted that 1 Cor. xv. 3ff. contains the tradition of the Jerusalem Church with regard to the death and resurrection of Jesus.

The comparison with 1 Cor. xv. 1-11 thus exhibits the danger of interpreting the Epistle to the Galatians in one-sided fashion. If Galatians stood by itself, the reader might suppose that at least the resurrection of Christ, the central fact of Paul's gospel, was founded, in Paul's preaching, upon Paul's own testimony alone. In Galatians Paul says that his gospel was not derived from men. But his gospel was grounded upon the resurrection of Christ. Surely, it might be said, therefore, he based at least the resurrection not at all upon the testimony of others but upon the revelation which came to him from Christ. Is it possible to conceive of the author of Galatians as appealing for the foundation of his gospel to the testimony of Peter and the twelve and other brethren in the primitive Church—to the testimony of exactly those men whose mediatorship he is excluding in Galatians? Yet as a matter of fact, that is exactly what Paul did. That he did so is attested not by the Book of Acts or by any source upon which doubt might be cast, but by one of the accepted epistles. The Epistle to the Galatians must always be interpreted in the light of 1 Cor. xv. 1-11.

What then does Paul mean in Galatians when he says that he received his gospel directly from Christ? The answer is perfectly plain. He does not mean that when he drew near to Damascus on that memorable day he knew none of the facts about Jesus; he does not mean that after that day his knowledge of the facts was not enriched by intercourse with Jesus' friends. What Jesus really gave him near Damascus was not so much the facts as a new interpretation of the facts. He had known some of the facts before, but they had filled him with hatred. The Galilean prophet had cast despite upon the Law; He had broken down the prerogatives of Israel; it was blasphemous, moreover, to proclaim a crucified malefactor as the Lord's Anointed. Paul had known the facts before; he had known them only too well. Now, however, he obtained a new interpretation of the facts; he obtained that new interpretation not by human intermediation, not by reflection upon the testimony of the disciples, not by the example of the holy martyrs, but by revelation from Jesus Himself. Jesus Himself appeared to him. He might have appeared in anger, to destroy him for his unspeakable sin. Instead, He appeared in love, to call him into fellowship and into glorious service, to commission him as apostle of the One whose Church he had laid waste. That is what Paul means when he says that he received his gospel directly from the risen Christ.

The truth is, it never occurred to Paul to regard the bare facts about Jesus as constituting a "gospel"; it never even occurred to Paul to reflect upon all the sources of information about the facts. To us the sources of information about Jesus are limited: therefore they are searched out and numbered and weighed. But to Paul the sources of information were so numerous that they could not be catalogued. It never occurred to him to regard with supreme gratitude the particular source from which he derived any particular bit of information about Jesus any more than we regard with special gratitude the newspaper from which we derive our knowledge of current events. If one newspaper had not printed the news, others would have done so; the sources of information are so numerous that we do not reflect upon them. So it was in the case of Paul's information about Jesus. Bare detailed information about the words and deeds of Jesus did not in Paul's mind constitute a "gospel"; they constituted only the materials upon which the gospel was based. When he says, therefore, that he did not receive his gospel from men he does not mean that he received no information from Peter or Barnabas or Mark or James or the five hundred brethren who had seen the risen Lord. What he does mean is that he himself was convinced of the decisive fact—the fact of the resurrection—not by the testimony of these men, but by the divine interposition on the road to Damascus, and that none of these men told him how he himself was to be saved or what he was to say to the Gentiles about the way of salvation. Materials for the proof of his gospel might come to him from ordinary sources of information, but his gospel itself was given to him directly by Christ.

Thus Paul does not directly attest any indifference on his part toward tradition about the life of Jesus. But is not such indifference revealed by the extreme paucity of references in the Pauline Epistles to what Jesus said and did?

In answer to this question it must be admitted that direct citations in the Pauline Epistles of words of Jesus, and direct references to the details of Jesus' life, are surprisingly few. In 1 Cor. vii. 10, Paul appeals to a command of the Lord about divorce, and carefully distinguishes such commands from what he himself is saying to the Corinthians (verses 12, 25). In 1 Cor. ix. 14, he calls attention to an ordinance of the Lord to the effect that they that proclaim the gospel should live of the gospel. In these passages it cannot be doubted that the commands of "the Lord" are commands that Jesus gave during His earthly ministry; they are certainly not commands given to Paul by the risen Christ. For the words which Paul himself wrote to his churches, by virtue of his apostolic authority, themselves constituted commands of the Lord in the broad sense, in that the authority of the Lord was behind them (1 Cor. xiv. 37); here, therefore, when such apostolic commands are distinguished from commands of the Lord, the commands of the Lord must be taken in a narrower sense. They can only be commands given by Jesus during His earthly ministry.[80]

These passages show that Paul was in the habit of distinguishing what Jesus said on earth to His disciples from what the risen Lord said to him directly by revelation. They show, moreover, that Paul was in possession of a fund of information about the words of Jesus. It may be a question why he did not draw upon the fund more frequently; but at any rate, the fund was there.

In 1 Thess. iv. 15, the assurance that those who are alive at the Parousia shall not precede those that have died is grounded in a word of the Lord ("For this we say to you in a word of the Lord").[81] Here again the "word of the Lord" is probably to be regarded as a word which Jesus spoke while He was on earth, rather than as a revelation made by the risen Lord directly to Paul. If this interpretation be correct, then this passage contains another incidental reference to a fund of information about the words of Jesus.

Most important of all, however, is the report of the institution of the Lord's Supper in 1 Cor. xi. 23ff. The report is introduced by the words, "For I received from the Lord that which also I delivered unto you." What does Paul mean by the expression "received from the Lord"? Does he mean that the information was given him directly by the risen Christ, or that he received it by ordinary word of mouth from the eyewitnesses? The former interpretation has been favored in the first place by some who occupy a strictly supernaturalistic point of view, to whom therefore it does not seem strange that the risen Christ should give to His apostle even detailed information about past events; it has also been favored by some who start from naturalistic presuppositions, and, regarding Paul as a mystic and a visionary, seek to separate him as far as possible from historical tradition about Jesus. But from either of these two points of view the interpretation is unsatisfactory. Why should the risen Christ give to His apostle detailed information which could be obtained perfectly well by ordinary inquiry from the eyewitnesses? Such revelation would be unlike the other miracles of the Bible. God does not rend the heaven to reveal what can be learned just as well by ordinary word of mouth. But this interpretation is equally unsatisfactory from the naturalistic point of view. Did Paul really suppose the risen Christ to have given him all this detailed information about the night of the betrayal and the rest? How could such a visionary experience be explained? The only possible answer, on naturalistic presuppositions, would be that the vision merely made use of materials which were already in Paul's mind; Paul already had information from the eyewitnesses about the Supper, but after he had forgotten whence he had received the information it welled up again from his subconscious life in the form of a vision. This explanation involves a psychological absurdity. The area of Paul's consciousness was not so limited as it is represented in modern reconstructions as being. If Paul received information from the eyewitnesses about what Jesus said and did on the night of the betrayal, we can be sure that he remembered the information and remembered where he had got it. It was not necessary for him to receive it all over again in a vision.

There are therefore serious a priori objections against finding in the words "received from the Lord" in 1 Cor. xi. 23 a reference to direct revelation. But this interpretation is not really favored by the words as they stand. The word "from," in the clause "I received from the Lord," is not the only word used for "from" after the word "received"; this word seems to indicate not the immediate but the ultimate source of what is received.[82] Furthermore, the word "received"[83] in 1 Cor. xv. 3 certainly refers to ordinary information obtained from eyewitnesses; it is natural therefore to find a similar usage of the word in 1 Cor. xi. 23. It is natural to interpret one passage after the analogy of the other. In 1 Cor. xv. 3ff. Paul is certainly appealing to ordinary tradition; probably, therefore, he is also doing so in 1 Cor. xi. 23ff. The report of the institution of the Lord's Supper is thus to be added to those passages which contain definite citations of the words of Jesus.

This report also belongs with those passages in the Epistles which attest knowledge of the details of Jesus' life. It is sometimes said that Paul is interested only in two facts about Jesus, the death and the resurrection. Yet in 1 Cor. xi. 23 he refers even to such a detail as the betrayal, and fixes the time of its occurrence—"the night in which He was betrayed." Other details about the life of Jesus may be gleaned from the Epistles. Jesus, according to Paul, was a Jew, He was descended from David, He was subject to the Mosaic Law, He had brothers, of whom one is named, He carried on a ministry for the Jews (Rom. xv. 8). With regard to the crucifixion and resurrection, moreover, Paul was interested not merely in the bare facts themselves; he was also interested in the details connected with them. Thus in 1 Cor. xv. 4 he mentions the burial of Jesus as having formed a part of his fundamental missionary preaching; and he also gives in the same connection an extended list of appearances of the risen Christ. It is possible that when Paul writes to the Galatians that Jesus Christ crucified had been pictured or placarded before their eyes (Gal. iii. 1), he is referring, not merely to the forcibleness with which the one fact of Christ's death was proclaimed in Galatia, but also to the vividness with which the story was told in detail. So vivid was the story of the crucifixion as Paul told it in Galatia that it was as though the Galatians had before their eyes a great picture of Jesus on the cross.

Moreover, the references of Paul to Jesus' life concern not merely details; some of them also attest warm appreciation of Jesus' character. The character of Jesus is indeed, according to Paul, exhibited primarily by the great central act of love by which He came to earth to die for the salvation of men. In Phil. ii. 5ff., the unselfishness of Christ, which is held up for imitation by the Philippian Christians, is found no doubt primarily in the incarnation and in the Cross; in Gal. ii. 20, the love of Christ, upon which the faith and the gratitude of believers are based, is found in the one great fact of Christ's death ("who loved me and gave himself for me"). But there are also passages in the Epistles which show that Paul was impressed with the character of Jesus not only as it was manifested by the incarnation and by the atoning death, but also as it appeared in the daily life of Jesus throughout His earthly ministry. The plainest of such passages, perhaps, are 2 Cor. x. 1 and Rom. xv. 2, 3. When Paul speaks of the meekness and gentleness of Christ, he refers evidently to the impression which Jesus made upon His contemporaries; and when he says that Christ "pleased not himself" but bore reproaches patiently, he is evidently thinking not only of the gracious acts of incarnation and atonement but also of the conduct of Jesus from day to day. In 2 Cor. viii. 9 ("though He was rich yet for your sakes He became poor"), although the reference may be primarily to the poverty of any human life as compared with the glories of the preËxistent Christ, yet the peculiar choice of words is probably due to the details of Jesus' life of hardship; Paul would hardly have spoken in this way if Jesus while He was on earth had lived in the magnificence of an earthly kingdom. Even in Phil. ii. 7, though the "form of a servant" refers primarily to human existence as distinguished from the glories of heaven, yet there seems to be also an impression of the special humility and poverty of Jesus' earthly life; and the Cross is put as the climax of an obedience which appeared also in Jesus' life as a whole (verse 8). Back of these passages there lies warm appreciation of Jesus' character as it appeared in the days of His flesh. Imitation of Christ (1 Thess. i. 6; 1 Cor. xi. 1) had its due place in the life and teaching of Paul, and that imitation was founded not only upon one act, but upon many acts, of the Lord. When Paul speaks of his own life of constant self-sacrifice, in which he seeks not his own comfort but the salvation of others, as being led in imitation of Christ (1 Cor. x. 32-xi. 1), he has before his mind the lineaments of just that Jesus who is known to us in the Gospels—that Jesus who had not where to lay His head, who went about doing good, and who preached the gospel to the poor.

Thus the paucity of references in the Pauline Epistles to the teaching and example of Jesus has sometimes been exaggerated. The Epistles attest considerable knowledge of the details of Jesus' life, and warm appreciation of His character.

Undoubtedly, moreover, Paul knew far more about Jesus than he has seen fit, in the Epistles, to tell. It must always be remembered that the Epistles do not contain the missionary preaching of Paul; they are addressed to Christians, in whose case much of the primary instruction had already been given. Some things are omitted from the Epistles, therefore, not because they were unimportant, but on the contrary just because they were fundamental; instruction about them had to be given at the very beginning and except for special reasons did not need to be repeated. Except for certain misunderstandings which had arisen at Corinth, for example, Paul would never have set forth in his Epistles the testimony by which the fact of the resurrection of Jesus was established; yet that testimony, he says, was fundamental in his missionary preaching. If it were not for the errorists at Corinth we should never have had the all-important passage about the appearances of the risen Christ. It is appalling to reflect what far-reaching conclusions would in that case have been drawn by modern scholars from the silence of Paul. So it is also with the account of the institution of the Lord's Supper in 1 Cor. xi. 23ff. That account is inserted in the Epistles only because of certain abuses which had happened to arise at Corinth. Elsewhere Paul says absolutely nothing about the institution of the Supper; indeed, in the Epistles other than 1 Corinthians he says nothing about the Supper at all. Yet the Lord's Supper was undoubtedly celebrated everywhere in the Pauline churches, and no doubt was grounded everywhere in an account of its institution. Thus the resurrection appearances and the institution of the Lord's Supper, despite the fact that they were absolutely fundamental in Paul's teaching, appear each only once in the Epistles. May there not then have been other things just as prominent in Paul's teaching which are not mentioned at all? These two things are mentioned only because of the misunderstandings that had arisen with regard to them. Certain other things just as important may be omitted from the Epistles only because in their case no misunderstandings had happened to arise. It must always be remembered that the Epistles of Paul are addressed to special needs of the churches. It cannot be argued, therefore, that what is not mentioned in the Epistles was not known to the apostle at all.

Thus the incidental character of Paul's references to the life and teaching of Jesus shows clearly that Paul knew far more than he has seen fit in the Epistles to tell. The references make the impression of being detached bits taken from a larger whole. When, for example, Paul says that the institution of the Lord's Supper took place on the night in which Jesus was betrayed, he presupposes on the part of his readers an account of the betrayal, and hence an account of the traitor and of his position among the apostles. So it is in other cases where Paul refers to the life and teaching of Jesus. The references can be explained only as presupposing a larger fund of information about the words and deeds of Jesus. Unquestionably Paul included in his fundamental teaching an account of what Jesus said and did.

Indeed, if he had not done so, he would have involved himself in absurdity. As J. Weiss has pointed out with admirable acuteness, a missionary preaching which demanded faith in Jesus without telling what sort of person Jesus was would have been preposterous.[84] The hearers of Paul were asked to stake their salvation upon the redeeming work of Jesus. But who was this Jesus? The question could scarcely be avoided. Other redeemers, in the pagan religion of the time, were protected from such questions; they were protected by the mists of antiquity; investigations about them were obviously out of place. But Paul had given up the advantages of such vagueness. The redeemer whom he proclaimed was one of his own contemporaries, a Jew who had lived but a few years before and had died the death of a criminal. Investigation of this Jesus was perfectly possible; His brothers, even, were still alive. Who was He then? Did He suffer justly on the cross? Or was He the Righteous One? Such questions could hardly be avoided. And as a matter of fact they were not avoided. The incidental references in the Epistles, scanty though they are, are sufficient to show that an account of the words and deeds of Jesus formed an important part of the teaching of Paul.

The presumption is, therefore, that Paul was a true disciple of Jesus. He regarded himself as a disciple; he was so regarded by his contemporaries; he made use of Jesus' teaching and example. But is this presumption justified? Was it the real Jesus whom Paul followed? The question can be answered only by a comparison of what is known about Paul with what is known about Jesus.

But at the very beginning of the comparison, a fundamental difficulty arises. How may Jesus be known? Paul is known, through his own letters. But how about Jesus? The sources of information about Jesus are the four Gospels. But are the Gospels trustworthy?

If they are trustworthy, then it will probably be admitted that Paul was a true disciple of Jesus. For the Gospels, taken as a whole, present a Jesus like in essentials to that divine Lord who was sum and substance of the life of Paul. The Jesus of the Gospels is no mere prophet, no mere inspired teacher of righteousness, no mere revealer or interpreter of God. He is, on the contrary, a supernatural person; a heavenly Redeemer come to earth for the salvation of men. So much is usually being admitted to-day. Whatever may have been the real facts about Jesus, the Gospels present a supernatural Jesus. This representation is contained not merely in one of the Gospels; it is contained in all of them. The day is past when the divine Christ of John could be confronted with a human Christ of Mark. On the contrary, Mark and John, it is now maintained, differ only in degree; Mark as well as John, even though it should be supposed that he does so less clearly and less consistently, presents a Jesus similar in important respects to the divine Redeemer of the Epistles of Paul.[85]

Thus if Paul be compared with the Jesus of the Gospels, there is full agreement between the two. The Jesus of all the Gospels is a supernatural person; the Jesus of all the Gospels is a Redeemer. "The Son of Man," according to the shortest and if modern criticism be accepted the earliest of the Gospels, "came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many" (Mk. x. 45). But it is not necessary to depend upon details. The very choice of material in the Gospels points to the same conclusion; the Gospels like the Epistles of Paul are more interested in the death of Jesus than in the details of His life. And for the same reason. The Gospels, like the Epistles of Paul, are interested in the death of Jesus because it was a ransom from sin.

But this similarity of the Jesus of the Gospels to the Christ of the Pauline Epistles has led sometimes, not to the recognition of Paul as a disciple of Jesus, but to the hypothesis that the Gospels are dependent upon Paul. If the Gospels are introducing into their picture of Jesus elements derived not from the real Jesus but from the mythical Christ of the Epistles, then of course they will display similarity to the Epistles; but such similarity will scarcely be very significant. In comparing the Epistles with the Gospels, the historian will then be comparing not Paul with Jesus, but Paul with Paul.

If, therefore, Paul is to be compared with Jesus, it is said, those elements which are derived from Paul must first be separated from the Gospels. Even after this separation has been accomplished, however, there remains in the Gospel picture of Jesus a certain amount of similarity to the Pauline Christ; it is generally admitted that the process by which Jesus was raised to the position of a heavenly being was begun before the appearance of Paul and was continued in some quarters in more or less independence of him. Thus if Paul is to be compared with the real Jesus, as distinguished from the Christ of Christian faith, the historian, it is said, must first separate from the Gospel picture not merely those details which were derived distinctly from Paul, but also the whole of the supernatural element.[86] Mere literary criticism will not accomplish the task; for even the earliest sources which can be distinguished in the Gospels seem to lift Jesus above the level of ordinary humanity and present Him not merely as an example for faith but also as the object of faith.[87] Even in the earliest sources, therefore, the historian must distinguish genuine tradition from dogmatic accretions; he must separate the natural from the supernatural, the believable from the unbelievable; he must seek to remove from the genuine figure of the Galilean prophet the tawdry ornamentation which has been hung about him by naÏve and unintelligent admirers.

Thus the Jesus who is to be compared with Paul, according to the modern naturalistic theory, is not the Jesus of the Gospels; he is a Jesus who can be rediscovered only through a critical process within the Gospels. And that critical process is very difficult. It is certainly no easy matter to separate natural and supernatural in the Gospel picture of Jesus, for the two are inextricably intertwined. In pulling up the tares, the historian is in danger of pulling up the wheat as well; in the removal of the supernatural elements from the story of Jesus, the whole of the story is in danger of being destroyed. Certain radical spirits are not afraid of the consequence; since the Jesus of the Gospels, they say, is a supernatural person, He is not a real person; no such person as this Jesus ever lived on earth. Such radicalism, of course, is absurd. The Jesus of the Gospels is certainly not the product of invention or of myth; He is rooted too deep in historical conditions; He towers too high above those who by any possibility could have produced Him. But the radical denials of the historicity of Jesus are not without interest. They have at least called attention to the arbitrariness with which the separation of historical from unhistorical has been carried on in the production of the "liberal Jesus."

But suppose the separation has been completed; suppose the historical Jesus has been discovered beneath the gaudy colors which had almost hopelessly defaced His portrait. Even then the troubles of the historian are not at an end. For this historical Jesus, this human Jesus of modern liberalism, is a monstrosity; there is a contradiction at the very center of His being. The contradiction is produced by His Messianic consciousness. The human Jesus of modern liberalism, the pure and humble teacher of righteousness, the one who kept His own person out of His message and merely asked men to have faith in God like His faith—this Jesus of modern liberalism thought that He was to come with the clouds of heaven and be the instrument in judging the earth! If Jesus was pure and unselfish and of healthy mind, how could He have applied to Himself the tremendous conception of the transcendent Messiah? By some the problem is avoided. Some, like Wrede, deny that Jesus ever presented Himself as the Messiah; others, like Bousset, are at least moving in the same direction. But such radicalism cannot be carried out. The Messianic element in the consciousness of Jesus is rooted too deep in the sources ever to be removed by any critical process. It is established also by the subsequent development. If Jesus never thought Himself to be the Messiah and never presented Himself as such, how did His disciples come to regard Him as the Messiah after His death? Why did they not simply say, "Despite His death, the Kingdom of God is coming?" Why did they say rather, "Despite His death, He is the Messiah?"[88] They could only have done so if Jesus had already presented Himself to them as Messiah when He had been with them on earth.

In recent criticism, such radicalism as that which has just been discussed is usually avoided. The presence of the Messianic element in the consciousness of Jesus cannot altogether be denied. Sometimes, indeed, that element is even made the determining factor in all of Jesus' teaching. So it is with the hypothesis of "consistent eschatology" of A. Schweitzer and others.[89] According to that hypothesis Jesus expected the Kingdom of God to come in a catastrophic way in the very year in which he was carrying on His ministry in Galilee, and all His teaching was intended to be a preparation for the great catastrophe. Even the ethic of Jesus, therefore, is thought to have been constructed in view of the approaching end of the world, and is thus regarded as unsuitable for a permanent world order. This hypothesis not only accepts the Messianic consciousness of Jesus, but in one direction at least it even exaggerates the implications of that consciousness.

Usually, however, this extreme also is avoided, and the historian pursues, rather, a policy of palliation. Jesus did come to regard Himself as the Messiah, it is said, but He did so only late in His ministry and almost against His will. When He found that the people were devoted to sin, and that He alone was fighting God's battle, He came to regard Himself as God's chosen instrument in the establishment of the Kingdom. Thus He had a tremendous consciousness of a mission. But the only category in which He could express that consciousness of a mission was the category of Messiahship. In one form, indeed, that category was unsuitable; Jesus would have nothing to do with the political aspirations associated with the expected king of David's line. But the expectation of the Messiah existed also in another form; the Messiah was sometimes regarded, not as a king of David's line, but as the heavenly Son of Man alluded to in Daniel and more fully described in the Similitudes of Enoch. This transcendent form of Messiahship, therefore, was the form which Jesus used. But the form, it is maintained, is a matter of indifference to us, and it was not really essential to Jesus; what was really essential was Jesus' consciousness of nearness to God.

Such palliative measures will not really solve the problem. The problem is a moral and psychological problem. How could a pure and holy prophet of righteousness, one whose humility and sanity have made an indelible impression upon all subsequent generations—how could such a one lapse so far from the sobriety and sanity of His teaching as to regard Himself as the heavenly Son of Man who was to be the instrument in judging the world? The difficulty is felt by all thoughtful students who proceed upon naturalistic principles. There is to such students, as HeitmÜller says, something almost uncanny about Jesus.[90] And the difficulty is not removed by putting the genesis of the Messianic consciousness late in Jesus' life. Whether late or early, Jesus did regard Himself as the Messiah, did regard Himself as the one who was to come with the clouds of heaven. There lies the problem. How could Jesus, with His humility and sobriety and strength, ever have lapsed so far from the path of sanity as to assume the central place in the Kingdom of God?

Here, again, radical minds have drawn the logical conclusions. The Messianic consciousness, they say, is an example of megalomania; Jesus, they say, was insane. Such is said to be the diagnosis of certain alienists. And the diagnosis need cause no alarm. Very likely it is correct. But the Jesus who is being investigated by the alienists is not the Jesus of the New Testament. The liberal Jesus, if he ever existed, may have been insane. But that is not the Jesus whom the Christian loves. The alienists are investigating a man who thought he was divine and was not divine; about one who thought He was divine and was divine they have obviously nothing to say.

Two difficulties, therefore, face the reconstruction of the liberal Jesus. In the first place, it is difficult to separate the natural from the supernatural in the Gospel picture of Jesus; and in the second place, after the separation has been accomplished, the human Jesus who is left is found to be a monstrosity, with a contradiction at the very center of His being. Such a Jesus, it may fairly be maintained, could never have existed on earth.

But suppose He did exist, suppose the psychological impossibilities of His character be ignored. Even then the difficulties of the historian are not overcome. Another question remains. How did this human Jesus ever come to give place to the superhuman Jesus of the New Testament? The transition evidently occurred at a very early time. It is complete in the Epistles of Paul. And within Paul's experience it was certainly no late development; on the contrary it was evidently complete at the very beginning of his Christian life; the Jesus in whom he trusted at the time of his conversion was certainly the heavenly Christ of the Epistles. But the conversion occurred only a very few years, at the most, after the crucifixion of Jesus. Moreover, there is in the Pauline Epistles not the slightest trace of a conflict between the heavenly Christ of Paul and any "other Jesus" of the primitive Jerusalem Church; apparently the Christ of Paul was also the Christ of those who had walked and talked with Jesus of Nazareth. Such is the evidence of the Epistles. It is confirmed by the Gospels. Like Paul, the Gospels present no mere teacher of righteousness, but a heavenly Redeemer. Yet the Gospels make the impression of being independent of Paul. Everywhere the Jesus that they present is most strikingly similar to the Christ of Paul; but nowhere—not even where Jesus is made to teach the redemptive significance of His death (Mk. x. 45)—is there the slightest evidence of literary dependence upon the Epistles. Thus the liberal Jesus, if he ever existed, has disappeared from the pages of history; all the sources agree in presenting a heavenly Christ. How shall such agreement be explained?

It might conceivably be explained by the appearances of the risen Christ. If, at the very beginning of the Church's life, Jesus appeared to His disciples, after His death, alive and in heavenly glory, it is conceivable that that experience might have originated the lofty New Testament conception of Jesus' person. But what in turn caused that experience itself? On naturalistic principles the appearances of the risen Christ can be explained only by an impression which the disciples already had of the majesty of Jesus' person. If they had listened to lofty claims of Jesus like those which are recorded in the Gospels, if they had witnessed miracles like the walking on the water or the feeding of the five thousand, then, conceivably, though not probably, they might have come to believe that so great a person could not be holden of death, and this belief might have been sufficient, without further miracle, to induce the pathological experiences in which they thought they saw Him alive after His passion. But if the miraculous be removed from the life of Jesus, a double portion of the miraculous must be heaped up upon the appearances. The smaller be the Jesus whom the disciples had known in Galilee, the more unaccountable becomes the experience which caused them to believe in His resurrection. By one path or another, therefore, the historian of Christian origins is pushed off from the safe ground of the phenomenal world toward the abyss of supernaturalism. To account for the faith of the early Church, the supernatural must be found either in the life of Jesus on earth, or else in the appearances of the risen Christ. But if the supernatural is found in one place, there is no objection to finding it in both places. And in both places it is found by the whole New Testament.

Three difficulties, therefore, beset the reconstruction of the "liberal Jesus." In the first place, it is difficult to disengage His picture from the miraculous elements which have defaced it in the Gospels; in the second place, when the supposed historical Jesus has been reconstructed, there is a moral contradiction at the center of His being, caused by His lofty claims; in the third place, it is hard to see how, in the thinking of the early disciples, the purely human Jesus gave place without the slightest struggle to the heavenly Christ of the Pauline Epistles and of the whole New Testament.

But suppose all the difficulties have been removed. Suppose a human Jesus has been reconstructed. What is the result of comparing that human Jesus with Paul? At first sight there seems to be nothing but contradiction. But closer examination discloses points of agreement. The agreement between Jesus and Paul extends even to those elements in the Gospel account of Jesus which are accepted by modern naturalistic criticism.

In the first place, Jesus and Paul present the same view of the Kingdom of God. The term "kingdom of God" is not very frequent in the Epistles; but it is used as though familiar to the readers, and when it does occur, it has the same meaning as in the teaching of Jesus. The similarity appears, in the first place, in a negative feature—both in Jesus and in Paul, the idea of the Kingdom is divorced from all political and materialistic associations. That fact may seem to us to be a matter of course. But in the Judaism of the first century it was far from being a matter of course. On the contrary, it meant nothing less than a revolution in thought and in life. How did Paul, the patriot and the Pharisee, come to separate the thought of the Kingdom from political associations? How did he come to do so even if he had come to think that the Messiah had already appeared? How did he come to do so unless he was influenced in some way by the teaching of Jesus? But the similarity is not merely negative. In positive aspects also, the Kingdom of God in Paul is similar to that which appears in the teaching of Jesus. Both in Jesus and in Paul, the implications of entrance are ethical. "Or know ye not," says Paul, "that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God" (1 Cor. vi. 9). Then follows, after these words, as in Gal. v. 19-21, a long list of sins which exclude a man from participation in the Kingdom. Paul is here continuing faithfully the teaching of Him who said, "Repent ye; for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Finally both in Jesus and in Paul the Kingdom appears partly as present and partly as future. In the above passages from Galatians and 1 Corinthians, for example, and in 1 Cor. xv. 50, it is future; whereas in such passages as Rom. xiv. 17 ("for the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit"), the present aspect is rather in view. The same two aspects of the Kingdom appear also in the teaching of Jesus; all attempts at making Jesus' conception thoroughly eschatological have failed. Both in Jesus and in Paul, therefore, the Kingdom of God is both transcendent and ethical. Both in Jesus and in Paul, finally, the coming of the Kingdom means joy as well as judgment. When Paul says that the Kingdom of God is "righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Ghost," he is like Jesus not merely in word but in the whole spirit of the message; Jesus also proclaimed the coming of the Kingdom as a "gospel."

In the second place, Paul is like Jesus in his doctrine of the fatherhood of God. That doctrine, it will probably be admitted, was characteristic of Jesus; indeed the tendency in certain quarters is to regard it as the very sum and substance of all that Jesus said. Certainly no parallel to Jesus' presentation of God as Father has been found in extra-Christian literature. The term "father" is indeed applied to God here and there in the Old Testament. But in the Old Testament it is usually in relation to the people of Israel that God is thought of as Father rather than in relation to the individual. Even in the Old Testament, it is true, the conception of the fatherhood of God is not without importance. The consciousness of belonging to God's chosen people and thus being under God's fatherly care was immensely valuable for the life of the individual Israelite; it was no mere product of an unsatisfying state religion like the religions of Greece or Rome. There was preparation in Old Testament revelation, here as elsewhere, for the coming of the Messiah. In Jewish literature outside of the Old Testament, moreover, and in rabbinical sources, the conception of God as Father is not altogether absent.[91] But it appears comparatively seldom, and it lacks altogether the true content of Jesus' teaching. Despite all previous uses of the word "father" as applied to God, Jesus was ushering in a new era when He taught His disciples to say, "Our Father which art in heaven."

This conception of the fatherhood of God appears in Paul in just the same way as in Jesus. In Paul as well as in Jesus it is not something to be turned to occasionally; on the contrary it is one of the constituent elements of the religious life. It is no wonder that the words, "God our Father," appear regularly at the beginnings of the Epistles. The fatherhood of God in Paul is not something to be argued about or defended; it is altogether a matter of course. But it has not lost, through repetition, one whit of its freshness. The name "Father" applied to God in Paul is more than a bare title; it is the welling up of the depths of the soul. "Abba, Father" on the lips of Paul's converts was exactly the same, not only in form but also in deepest import, as the word which Jesus first taught His disciples when they said to Him, "Lord, teach us to pray."

But the fatherhood of God in Paul is like the teaching of Jesus in even more definite ways than in the fervor of the religious life which it evokes. It is also like Jesus' teaching in being the possession, not of the world, but of the household of faith. If, indeed, the fatherhood of God in Jesus' teaching were like the fatherhood of God in modern liberalism—a relationship which God sustains toward men as men—then it would be as far removed as possible from the teaching of Paul. But as a matter of fact, both Paul and Jesus reserved the term Father for the relation in which God stands to the disciples of Jesus. One passage, indeed (Matt. v. 45; Luke vi. 35), has been quoted as making God the Father of all men. But only by a strange misinterpretation. It is strange how in the day of our boasted grammatico-historical exegesis, so egregious an error can be allowed to live. The prejudices of the reader have triumphed here over all exegetical principles; a vague modernism has been attributed to the sternest, as well as most merciful, Prophet who ever walked upon earth. When Jesus says, "Love your enemies, and pray for them that persecute you; that ye may be sons of your Father who is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the unjust," He certainly does not mean that God is the Father of all men both evil and good. God cares for all, but He is not said to be the Father of all. On the contrary, it may almost be said that the very point of the passage is that God cares for all although He is not the Father of all. That it is which makes Him the example for those who are to do good not merely to friends or brothers but also to enemies.

This interpretation does not mean that God does not stand toward all men in a relation analogous to that of a father to his children; it does not mean that He does not love all or care for all. But it does mean that however close may be the relationship which God sustains to all men, the lofty term Father is reserved for a relationship which is far more intimate still. Jesus extends to all men those common blessings which the modern preacher sums up in the term "fatherhood of God"; but He extends to His own disciples not only those blessings but infinitely more. It is not the men of the world—not the "publicans," not the "Gentiles"—who can say, according to the teaching of Jesus, "Our Father which art in Heaven." Rather it is the little group of Jesus' disciples—which little group, however, all without exception are freely invited to join.

So it is exactly also in the teaching of Paul. God stands, according to Paul, in a vital relation to all men. He is the author of the being of all; He cares for all; He has planted His law in the hearts of all. He stands thus in a relation toward all which is analogous to that of father to child. The Book of Acts is quite in accord with the Epistles when it makes Paul say of all men, "For we are also His offspring." But in Paul just as in Jesus the lofty term "Father" is reserved for a more intimate relationship. Paul accepts all the truth of natural religion; all the truth that reappears in the vague liberalism of modern times. But he adds to it the truth of the gospel. Those are truly sons of God, he says, who have been received by adoption into God's household, and in whose hearts God's Spirit cries, "Abba, Father."

There was nothing narrow about such a gospel; for the door of the household of faith was opened wide to all. Jesus had died in order to open that door, and the apostle went up and down the world, enduring peril upon peril in order to bring men in. There was need for such service, because of sin. Neither in Jesus nor in Paul is sin covered up, nor the necessity of a great transformation concealed. Jesus came not to reveal to men that they were already children of God, but to make them God's children by His redeeming work.

In the third place, Paul is like Jesus in presenting a doctrine of grace. Of course he is like the Jesus of the Gospels; for the Jesus of the Gospels declared that the Son of Man came to give His life a ransom for many. But He is even like the Jesus of modern reconstruction. Even the liberal Jesus taught a doctrine of grace. He taught, it for example, in the parables of the laborers in the vineyard and of the servant coming in from the field. In those two parables Jesus expressed His opposition to a religion of works, a religion which can open an account with God and seek to obtain salvation by merit.[92] Salvation, according to Jesus, is a matter of God's free grace; it is something which God gives to whom He will. The same great doctrine really runs all through the teaching of Jesus; it is the root of His opposition to the scribes and Pharisees; it determines the confidence with which He taught His disciples to draw near to God. But it is the same doctrine, exactly, which appears in Paul. The Paul who combated the legalists in Galatia, like the Jesus who combated the scribes and Pharisees, was contending for a God of grace.

Let it not be objected that Jesus maintained also the expectation of a judgment. For in this particular also He was followed by Paul. Paul also, despite his doctrine of grace, expected that the Christians would stand before the judgment-seat. And it may be remembered in passing that both in Jesus and in Paul the judgment-seat is a judgment-seat of Christ.

In the fourth place, the ethical teaching of Paul is strikingly similar to that of Jesus. It is necessary only to point to the conception of love as the fulfilling of the law, and to the substitution for external rules of the great principles of justice and of mercy. These things may seem to us to be matters of course. But they were not matters of course in the Jewish environment of Paul. Similarity in this field between Jesus and Paul can hardly be a matter of chance. Many resemblances have been pointed out in detail between the ethical teaching of Jesus and that of Paul. But the most important is the one which is most obvious, and which just for that reason has sometimes escaped notice. Paul and Jesus, in their ethical teaching, are similar because of the details of what they say; but they are still more similar because of what they do not say. And they are similar in what they do not say despite the opposition of their countrymen. Many parallels for words of Jesus may have been found in rabbinical sources. But so much more, alas, is also found there. That oppressive plus of triviality and formalism places an impassable gulf between Jesus and the Jewish teachers. But Paul belongs with Jesus, on the same side of the gulf. In his ethic there is no formalism, no triviality, no casuistry—there is naught but "love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, self-control." What has become of all the rest? Was it removed by the genius of Paul? It is strange that two such men of genius should have arisen independently and at the same time. Or was the terrible plus of Pharisaic formalism and triviality burned away from Paul when the light shone around him on the way to Damascus and he fell at the feet of the great Teacher?

Points of contact between Jesus and Paul have just been pointed out in detail, and the list of resemblances could be greatly increased. The likeness of Paul to Jesus extends even to those features which appear in the Jesus of modern liberalism. What is more impressive, however, than all similarity in detail is the similarity in the two persons taken each as a whole. The Gospels are more than a collection of sayings and anecdotes; the Pauline Epistles are more than a collection of reasoned discussions. In the Gospels, a person is revealed, and another person in the Epistles. And the two persons belong together. It is impossible to establish that fact fully by detailed argument any more than it is possible to explain exactly why any two persons are friends to-day. But the fact is plain to any sympathetic reader. The writer of the Pauline Epistles would have been at home in the company of Jesus of Nazareth.

What then was the true relation between Paul and Jesus? It has been shown that Paul regarded himself as a disciple of Jesus, that he was so regarded by those who had been Jesus' friends, that he had abundant opportunity for acquainting himself with Jesus' words and deeds, that he does refer to them occasionally, that he could have done so oftener if he had desired, that the imitation of Jesus found a place in his life, and that his likeness to Jesus extends even to those elements in Jesus' life and teaching which are accepted by modern naturalistic criticism as authentic. At this point the problem is left by the great mass of recent investigators. Wrede is thought to be refuted already; the investigator triumphantly writes his Q. E. D., and passes on to something else.

But in reality the problem has not even been touched. It has been shown that the influence of Jesus upon Paul was somewhat greater than Wrede supposed. But that does not make Paul a disciple of Jesus. The true relationships of a man are determined not by things that lie on the periphery of his life, but by what is central[93]—central both in his own estimation and in his influence upon subsequent generations. And what was central in Paul was certainly not the imitation of Jesus. At that point, Wrede was entirely correct; he has never really been silenced by the chorus of protest with which his startling little book was received. It is futile, therefore, to point to the influence of Jesus upon Paul in detail. Such a method may be useful in correcting exaggerations, but it does not touch the real question. The plain fact remains that if imitation of Jesus had been central in the life of Paul, as it is central, for example, in modern liberalism, then the Epistles would be full of the words and deeds of Jesus. It is insufficient to point to the occasional character of the Epistles. No doubt the Epistles are addressed to special needs; no doubt Paul knew far more about Jesus than in the Epistles he has found occasion to tell. But there are passages in the Epistles where the current of Paul's religious life runs full and free, where even after the lapse of centuries, even through the dull medium of the printed page, it sweeps the heart of the sympathetic reader on with it in a mighty flood. And those passages are not concerned with the details of Jesus' earthly life. They are, rather, the great theological passages of the Epistles—the second chapter of Galatians, the fifth chapter of 2 Corinthians, and the eighth chapter of Romans. In these chapters, religion and theology are blended in a union which no critical analysis can ever possibly dissolve; these passages reveal the very center of Paul's life.

The details of Jesus' earthly ministry no doubt had an important place in the thinking of Paul. But they were important, not as an end in themselves, but as a means to an end. They revealed the character of Jesus; they showed why He was worthy to be trusted. But they did not show what He had done for Paul. The story of Jesus revealed what Jesus had done for others: He had healed the sick; He had given sight to the blind; He had raised the dead. But for Paul He had done something far greater than all these things—for Paul He had died.

The religion of Paul, in other words, is a religion of redemption. Jesus, according to Paul, came to earth not to say something, but to do something; He was primarily not a teacher, but a Redeemer. He came, not to teach men how to live, but to give them a new life through His atoning death. He was, indeed, also a teacher, and Paul attended to His teaching. But His teaching was all in vain unless it led to the final acceptance of His redemptive work. Not the details of Jesus' life, therefore, but the redemptive acts of death and resurrection are at the center of the religion of Paul. The teaching and example of Jesus, according to Paul, are valuable only as a means to an end, valuable in order that through a revelation of Jesus' character saving faith may be induced, and valuable thereafter in order that the saving work may be brought to its fruition in holy living. But all that Jesus said and did was for the purpose of the Cross. "He loved me," says Paul, "and gave Himself for me." There is the heart and core of the religion of Paul.

Jesus, according to Paul, therefore, was not a teacher, but a Redeemer. But was Paul right? Was Jesus really a Redeemer, or was He only a teacher? If He was only a teacher, then Paul was no true follower of His. For in that case, Paul has missed the true import of Jesus' life. Compared with that one central error, small importance is to be attributed to the influence which Jesus may have exerted upon Paul here and there. Wrede, therefore, was exactly right in his formulation of the question. Paul regarded Jesus as a Redeemer. If Jesus was not a Redeemer, then Paul was no true follower of Jesus, but the founder of a new religion. The liberal theologians have tried to avoid the issue. They have pointed out exaggerations; they have traced the influence of Jesus upon Paul in detail; they have distinguished religion from theology, and abandoning the theology of Paul they have sought to derive his religion from Jesus of Nazareth. It is all very learned and very eloquent. But it is also entirely futile. Despite the numerous monographs on "Jesus and Paul," Wrede was entirely correct. He was correct, that is, not in his conclusions, but in his statement of the question. He was correct in his central contention—Paul was no true disciple of the "liberal Jesus." If Jesus was what the liberal theologians represent Him as being—a teacher of righteousness, a religious genius, a guide on the way to God—then not Jesus but Paul was the true founder of historic Christianity. For historic Christianity, like the religion of Paul, is a religion of redemption.

Certainly the separation of religion from theology in Paul must be abandoned. Was it a mere theory when Paul said of Jesus Christ, "He loved me and gave Himself for me"? Was it merely theological speculation when he said, "One died for all, therefore all died; and he died for all, that they that live should no longer live unto themselves, but unto him who for their sakes died and rose again"? Was it mere theology when he said, "Far be it from me to glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ"? Was this mere theological speculation? Surely not. Surely it was religion—warm, living religion. If this was not true religion, then where can religion ever be found? But the passages just quoted are not passages which deal with the details of Jesus' life; they are not passages which deal with general principles of love and grace, and fatherliness and brotherliness. On the contrary, they deal with just the thing most distasteful to the modern liberal Church; they deal with the atoning death of the Lord Jesus Christ, by which He took our sins upon Him and bare them in His own body on the tree. The matter is perfectly plain. Religion in Paul does not exist apart from theology, and theology does not exist apart from religion. Christianity, according to Paul, is both a life and a doctrine—but logically the doctrine comes first. The life is the expression of the doctrine and not vice versa. Theology, as it appears in Paul, is not a product of Christian experience, but a setting forth of those facts by which Christian experience has been produced. If, then, the theology of Paul was derived from extra-Christian sources, his religion must be abandoned also. The whole of Paulinism is based upon the redemptive work of Jesus Christ.

Thus Paul was a true follower of Jesus if Jesus was a divine Redeemer, come from heaven to die for the sins of men; he was not a true follower of Jesus if Jesus was a mere revealer of the fatherhood of God. Paulinism was not based upon a Galilean prophet. It was based either upon the Son of God who came to earth for men's salvation and still holds communion with those who trust Him, or else it was based upon a colossal error. But if the latter alternative be adopted, the error was not only colossal, but also unaccountable. It is made more unaccountable by all that has been said above, all that the liberal theologians have helped to establish, about the nearness of Paul to Jesus. If Paul really stood so near to Jesus, if he really came under Jesus' influence, if he really was intimate with Jesus' friends, how could he have misinterpreted so completely the significance of Jesus' person; how could he have substituted for the teacher of righteousness who had really lived in Palestine the heavenly Redeemer of the Epistles? No satisfactory answer has yet been given. In the relation between Jesus and Paul the historian discovers a problem which forces him on toward a Copernican revolution in all his thinking, which leads him to ground his own salvation and the hope of this world no longer in millions of acts of sinful men or in the gradual progress of civilization, but simply and solely in one redemptive act of the Lord of Glory.

CHAPTER V

THE JEWISH ENVIRONMENT