In just the same way, because you are in Christ Jesus, count yourselves both dead with regard to sin and alive with regard to God.
—Romans 6:11
In Romans 6:1–10 Paul affirms the believer’s new identity in Christ. This identity reflects believers’ death with Christ and their concomitant liberation from slavery to sin. Likewise, believers are defined by their destiny in Christ. The climax of the first part of Romans 6, however, is Paul’s exhortation to embrace the new reality by faith (6:11: ὑμεῖς λογίζεσθε ἑαυτούς, “reckon yourselves”—a cognitive action). The letter’s ideal hearers may have understood this cognitive reckoning in light of discussions about cognition then current, which are attested in some philosophic sources. Paul wants his hearers to recognize their identification with Christ and so live out their new identity.
For Stoics, corrected beliefs would allow one to reconstitute one’s identity based on reality. For Paul, correct understanding of the believer’s union with Christ and his death should have the same effect (Rom. 6:2–11). Although Paul is aware that believers do not always live consistently with this reality, he is deeply concerned about this incongruity (6:1–2; 8:12–13), which he regards as unnatural for those who truly understand the new reality into which their conversion has initiated them (6:3–4, 12–23). Paul will develop these ideas also in his exposition of the renewed mind in Romans 12:2–3.
Death with Christ (Rom. 6:1–10)
Paul grounds the “reckoning” of death to sin in a situation already achieved by Christ, effective through identification and/or union with Christ, and experienced through faith.
Producing Righteousness
Paul is interested in Romans not only in God’s forensic decree that those who belong to Christ are righteous.1 He is interested also in showing that Christ, in contrast with human conscience and even a purely moral approach to God’s law, produces righteousness that can be effective in relationships (cf. 12:1–15:12). This righteousness contrasts with the behavior of both Gentiles and Jewish people;2 all the world lies under sin and needs what Christ offers.
Thus, Romans 1:18–32 showed the failure of human wisdom to produce righteousness; by declaring autonomy from God, human wisdom became darkened and subject to the passions against which most philosophers protested. Romans 7:7–25 shows the failure of knowledge of the law to decisively defeat such passions; far more than the Gentile mind of Romans 1, the mind under the law knows God’s standard, yet such knowledge has not brought freedom from wrong desire.
In Romans 6:1–10 Paul speaks of not only a change in status but a change in identity. Ancient analogies here appear very limited, but several will be explored; at the least, it seems relevant that some ancient thinkers believed that one’s identity could be transformed. For Paul, as for some others, implementing the change in practice requires cognitive recognition of the change. For Paul, this cognitive recognition is best described as faith; although it may be a practical step beyond initial justifying faith, it is an inseparable corollary of that faith. Subsequent Christian thought has sometimes discarded the corollary, but Paul would have regarded it as necessary to be consistent with (even though not a prerequisite for) genuine justifying faith.
The New Identity
We humans tend to identify ourselves in terms such as (naturally) our personal past, our family models, or our social embeddedness within external culture; parental models and others’ views of us are among the influences that shape our identity formation.3 Paul, however, argues that our strongest level of identification should be our identity as followers of Christ: embedded in a new community, a new relationship with God, and thinking as Christ would, being conformed to his image (cf. Rom. 6:5; 8:29). For Paul, this new identity is not merely a cognitive strategy but an affirmation of a new reality.
In some ancient settings baptism could signify initiation; in a Jewish context it could be used to initiate proselytes who became part of God’s people.4 (In the limited surviving ancient Jewish sources on the subject, conversion was also sometimes held to make one a new person.)5 If some claimed superiority by virtue of their solidarity with Abraham (cf. Paul’s response in Rom. 4:9–16), Paul responds both by showing universal human solidarity with the prototypical sinner (5:12–21) and by noting that all those baptized into Christ have become part of God’s people (cf. also Gal. 3:27–29).6
Paul describes the new identity in terms of being dead with Christ (Rom. 6:3–8), being freed from sin (6:6), and being promised a new destiny with Christ (cf. 6:5; 8:11).7
Dead with Christ
People in antiquity sometimes spoke of death figuratively or by way of comparison with an abject state.8 One might also be “dead” to a person—in other words, alienated from them.9 More relevant are spiritual and intellectual uses of the image. Pythagoreans treated apostates as dead.10 Others might describe someone who lives for pleasure as continually dying or dead.11 A Stoic could recommend amputating the dead part of one’s soul;12 when a person became incapable of grasping truth, their soul had become dead.13 In general, the mortal masses who lived in ignorance could be deemed virtually dead.14 For Philo too, genuine life and death had to do with the condition of the soul;15 Adam’s death was in his soul, “becoming entombed in passions.”16 In traditional Jewish wisdom a fool was like one who was dead.17 A convert might be thought to have been brought to life.18 In later Jewish tradition the wicked were deemed dead.19
Such figurative uses make Paul’s appeal to the image of death more intelligible, but for him the primary connection is with Christ’s death and being united through baptism with him. All people are connected with the prototypical sinner, Adam, as his offspring. Yet Christ died to Adam’s sin (Rom. 5:12–21), so those who have been baptized into Christ now share his death to their sinful past in Adam (6:1–10). Now they must recognize this result of their new identity in Christ.
Excursus: Mystery Background for Dying and Rising with Christ?
In a sense, whatever particular background is employed here, it may not heavily shape the meaning of the text; nevertheless, some backgrounds are more or less plausible than others. One analogy often cited in earlier literature was the dying and rising gods of the mysteries, but the value of this analogy has proved quite limited. Many have associated mystery cults with dying-and-rising deities.20 The idea of dying-and-rising deities predates Paul in both Greek21 and ancient Near Eastern sources.22
But Osiris was magically revivified, not transformed into an eschatological new creation; his corpse was awakened through the same potencies that exist in procreation, and he remained in the netherworld, still needing to be protected there by vigilant gods and to be replaced on earth by his heir.23 Adonis’s death was mourned annually,24 but the claim of his rising is not documented prior to the middle of the second century CE.25 Apart from one third-century Christian testimony, no claims for Attis’s resuscitation appear before the sixth century CE.26
Dionysus’s return from death27 belongs to the same category as mortals being deified and deities suffering harm;28 some also understood him as returning annually for his holy days in the spring.29 Frazer’s scheme of the “dying and rising god” has thus come under heavy criticism in recent times.30
At least in later sources, initiation into some mysteries sometimes was thought to cause initiates to transcend their mortality through union with deities.31 Yet this later-attested view might even have depended on early Christianity, which had become increasingly popular (sometimes at their expense) by that period.32 Indeed, many alleged parallels derive from the later Christian sources. That the church fathers understood the mysteries as “imitation démoniaque du Christianisme”33 may suggest that they, like many early modern students of these cults, read them through the grid of their own Christian background, and the ready-to-hand explanation of demonic imitation may have led them to heighten rather than play down the similarities between the two.
Many Christian writers have asserted, again perhaps through the grid of their own religious understanding, that the mysteries must have provided salvation through union with dying-and-rising gods.34 While there may be some truth in the idea that a god not subject to death could grant immortality, Walter Burkert, noted scholar of mystery cults, cautions that “this multiplicity of images can hardly be reduced to a one-dimensional hypothesis, one ritual with one dogmatic meaning: death and rebirth of ‘the’ god and the initiand.”35 Although the mysteries are well documented from an early period, much of the evidence for this proposed aspect of the mysteries is late36 and often specifically Christian.37
In the Eleusinian rites, the initiate (μύστης) received the promise of a happy afterlife, but this took place by being pledged to the goddess, rather than by being reborn or by dying and rising with the deity.38 The cult of Cybele also does not support dying and rising with her, as Cybele scholar Giulia Sfameni Gasparro notes.39 The main problem with the view articulated by many members of the old Religionsgeschichte school, eager to produce “parallels” to primitive Christianity, is that most of the people who turned to the mysteries already believed in some afterlife in the netherworld anyway; it was merely a happier afterlife in that world that various gods could guarantee.
Nineteenth- and early twentieth-century scholars who drew such connections40 did not take adequate account of the vegetative, cyclical, and seasonal nature of most of the resuscitation rituals.41 This differs starkly from the earliest Christian picture of Christ’s bodily resurrection rooted in explicit Jewish eschatological hopes—a perspective on the resurrection that Paul affirms is guaranteed by hundreds of eyewitnesses, including himself, and argues, despite his Hellenistic audience, is a necessary understanding of resurrection for a true follower of Jesus (1 Cor. 15:1–11). One would not think that earlier Palestinian Christianity held a less rigorously Jewish perspective than Paul did.42
Because the eschatological resurrection was envisioned as a singular event, Jesus’s resurrection in advance necessarily entailed that of those who would be raised afterward (1 Cor. 15:20, 23). That is, the solidarity with Christ’s resurrection is already built into the earliest Jewish-Christian concept of his rising.
At best the mysteries offer one among many analogies that some ancient hearers may have considered; mysteries by definition were secretive,43 and Paul would hardly have appealed primarily to an analogy that only past mystery initiates (of whom he himself was not one) could have understood. Thus, however hearers in later centuries may have heard Paul’s teaching in this passage, Paul’s first audience shared with him the Jewish conception of corporate, eschatological resurrection, of which Christ’s followers held Jesus’s resurrection to be the foretaste. Most scholars today reject any connection with the mysteries here.44
The solidarity with Christ fits the Jewish conception of solidarity with Adam that directly precedes this passage in Paul’s text (Rom. 5:12–21), on which his mention of the “old person” (6:6) depends.45 Others have appealed to various other additional analogies, such as Jewish people’s participation in their ancestral experience at Passover.46
Does Death to Sin Eradicate Passions?
Some philosophers spoke of using reason to eradicate emotion; others criticized this view.47 Earlier Stoics wanted to achieve a state of ἀπάθεια (“impassivity”), with choices no longer influenced by emotion.48 Seneca felt that Peripatetics’ halfway measures (seeking moderation) were ineffectual, preferring the Stoic approach of rejecting emotions fully.49 Middle Platonists rightly noted that emotion remained part of one’s being,50 though they also mistrusted emotion.51 Aristotle was more positive toward emotions than were either Stoics or Platonists,52 though he insisted that persuasion rest on reason more than on emotion.53
Those who were not Stoics generally criticized the Stoic ideal of ἀπάθεια; even those who distrusted emotion thought a moderate degree of emotion more realistic.54 Philo, an eclectic Middle Platonist, valued moderation in various matters,55 but sometimes he does use the term ἀπάθεια positively,56 even valuing the extirpation of passions rather than moderation.57 He allows that the one progressing toward perfection may still be moderating passions, but the ideal, perfect person has already eradicated them.58
Paul is plainly not a Stoic who wants to eradicate passion, even by virtue of the new creation. Paul’s surviving letters reveal that he does not oppose all desire59 or unpleasant emotion (cf. 1 Cor. 7:5, 7; 2 Cor. 7:5; 11:28; 1 Thess. 3:1, 5). When he offers concrete examples of desires related to sin, he seems to limit the designation to those expressed in behaviors that Scripture already circumscribed as sinful.60
Freed from Slavery
At least in later sources, rabbis agreed that, immediately upon coming up from immersion, a proselyte was to be considered fully an Israelite, now like a new person.61 But this raised a problem for Jewish slaveholders whose Gentile slaves converted. Amoraim agreed that a slave who performed the immersion of conversion was thereby freed from their former holder; thus, to maintain a slave’s status as a slave, the slave must be baptized with marks of servitude.62 Although the conjunction of the images of baptism and slavery here might be suggestive, we cannot be certain to what extent such practices may already have obtained in Paul’s day.
Some earlier scholars saw in sacral manumissions63 a probable background for Paul’s imagery of Christ buying followers out of slavery to become his slaves.64 While this proposal was not implausible, the actual verbal connections are extremely meager,65 and specifically sacral manumission was very limited in light of the many figurative uses of slavery language in antiquity.
The general figures for slavery are more helpful. Jewish tradition recognized that God’s people could be his servants in a positive sense;66 Philo claims that the one who serves God alone is the only one who is free.67 The Torah brought freedom, whether freedom from worldly cares, from national bondage, or from slavery in the coming world.68 Greek texts could similarly speak of divine truth “freeing” one from slavery to worldly concerns.69 Greek thinkers quite often warned against being enslaved by false ideologies70 or passions.71 Some spoke of internal freedom that enabled them to ignore external troubles.72 Occasionally, those writing from an aristocratic perspective might warn that excess political freedom might bring the masses into moral excess.73 Jewish writers influenced by Hellenism repeated the demand that people avoid slavery to passions;74 other Jewish thinkers also recognized that one should not be enslaved to sin or the evil impulse (the yēṣer hāraʿ).75
Defined by Destiny in Christ
Some have regarded Paul as essentially a Pharisee who believed that the messianic era had come.76 Even if this characterization is too simplistic, it reminds us of a central tenet in Pauline and other early Christian thought: the promised Messiah and resurrection had already come, thus inaugurating at least the initial phase of the promised kingdom, which would be consummated at Jesus’s return.77
Whereas a struggle to overcome internal evil might appear in Romans 7:7–25 (see comment on pp. 85–92) in a manner similar to many Jewish sources, a decisive deliverance from evil (cf. 6:1–11) appears in Jewish sources as eschatological.78 Later rabbis were convinced that God would destroy the evil impulse in the eschatological time;79 indeed, some said that he would publicly slay it in front of all humanity.80 At least some later rabbis derived this idea from biblical promises that God would transform his people’s hearts (Ezek. 36:26–27).81
The general concept did not originate with later rabbis. Already before Paul’s era, Qumran’s Manual of Discipline expected God to circumcise away Israel’s yēṣer in the end time.82 One or two generations after Paul, an apocalyptic writer declares that the first joy of the righteous in the coming age will be “their victory in the long fight against their inborn impulses to evil, which have failed to lead them astray from life into death.”83 Jewish tradition had long anticipated eschatological deliverance from sin84 and from Satan.85 Indeed, as the rabbis suggested, the idea appears already in the biblical prophets (Jer. 3:17; 31:32–34).
For Paul, the expected messianic time had come, and sin and the evil impulse had already been proleptically defeated.86 The matter was not yet complete, but believers already had more than their own efforts to depend on; in the words of another early Christian writer, they had tasted “the powers of the coming age” (Heb. 6:5).87 For Paul, Christ gave himself for our sins to deliver us from this present evil age (Gal. 1:4). This observation has implications for how believers should think. The gospel is a wisdom that transcends that of this age (1 Cor. 1:20; 2:7–10; 3:18), when people are blinded (2 Cor. 4:4).
Most relevant for this letter, believers should not be conformed to this age but rather be transformed by the renewing of their minds (Rom. 12:2). The new way of thinking reckons with the new situation: believers already belong to the future age (cf. 2 Cor. 1:22; 5:5) and should think and live accordingly.
Jewish tradition employed the phrase “new creation” in multiple ways,88 but the dominant one in this period reflected the promise of a new heavens and new earth in Isaiah 65:17–18.89 For Paul, being in Christ means that the new creation has already begun, and promised new things have come (2 Cor. 5:17).90 The present, partial experience of this new reality should shape believers’ thinking, toward Christ and everything else (2 Cor. 5:16).91 Worldly evaluations of anyone (5:16a, 17a) are thus illegitimate,92 and this includes the critical evaluations of Paul (5:11–16a; cf. 3:1; see also 1 Cor. 2:15; 3:4–5; 4:3; 9:3).
Reckoning the New Reality by Faith
After establishing believers’ new identity and status in God’s sight (which is what counts, Rom. 6:1–10), Paul encourages believers to embrace God’s perspective on them. They must share God’s verdict that their life in Christ is new, and they can learn to live new life based on that belief. Paul has been preparing for this cognitive emphasis throughout the preceding discussion (recall ἀγνοεῖτε in 6:3, γινώσκοντες in 6:6, εἰδότες in 6:9).
Faith and Reckoning
As noted above, faith, for Paul, is embracing God’s truth as opposed to suppressing that truth with false ideologies. Faith is the sound and right response to God’s reliability.93 For Paul, faith is a choice or a conviction, not a subjective emotional state. It is not, as it has come to mean in some circles today, wishing so powerfully (“make-believe”) that one’s imagination or will exerts a force in the external world. It is not a desperate and subjective leap into the dark. It is not even a rational determination that arises from excluding all the alternatives, as in some modern epistemology, although either this or an act of will might lead toward faith. Faith is more a sense that recognizes the accurate, divine perspective on reality and acts accordingly.94
In the sections between Romans 1:18–32 and 6:1–11, Paul has heavily emphasized believing (πιστεύω); after the thesis statement in 1:16,95 it appears in another key statement in 3:22 and then six times in Paul’s exposition of the text about Abraham’s faith in 4:3, 5, 11, 17, 18, 24. If96 we add uses of the cognate noun in 1:17; 3:22, 25–31; 4:5, 9, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 19, 20; 5:1, 2,97 it becomes clear that this is a major motif of the preceding context for our present passage. Modern interpreters, thinking of the English terms “believe” and “faith” in subjective terms,98 risk approaching Pauline faith’s direction backward. Pauline faith is not meant to invite focus on the subject’s ability to believe, thus initiating a never-ending cycle of self-questioning, but rather focuses on the object’s trustworthiness. Because God and Christ are faithful, people can depend on them.99
In Romans 4:3–25 (and possibly also 5:1–11) Paul offers an extended midrash on Genesis 15:6: “And Abraham trusted God, and it was reckoned to his account as righteousness.” Although Paul by no means limits his use of λογίζομαι (“reckon”) to accounting language (cf., e.g., probably Rom. 8:18, 36; 14:14), it is no accident that his greatest cluster of the term appears in his exposition of this verse from Genesis (Rom. 4:3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 22, 23, 24—eleven times). In Romans 4 God has reckoned righteousness to Abraham’s account, and thus to the account of those who, like their spiritual father Abraham, believe.
Now, in his next use of the term, climaxing a discussion of new life in Christ accomplished by God (Rom. 6:1–10), Paul urges believers to “reckon” themselves the way that God has reckoned them (6:11).100 That is, having already been made right by trusting God, they now ought to trust the reality that God has accomplished—that God has made them right in Christ. This includes the reality that they have a new identity in Christ as those who have died to sin. This reckoning follows God’s reckoning; it does not give the person a new identity, but it does recognize the new identity that God has given.
Origen recognized both the reality of temptation and the higher dimension of reality of what was true in his identification with Christ: “Whoever thinks or considers that he is dead will not sin. For example, if lust for a woman gets hold of me or if greed for silver, gold or riches stirs me and I say in my heart that I have died with Christ . . . the lust is immediately quenched and sin disappears.”101
Cognitive Reckoning in Other Ancient Sources
Paul was not alone in considering the role of reason and new perspective in overcoming passion. Ancient thinkers emphasized focusing one’s mind on what was good (cf. Phil. 4:8).102 Philosophy was a matter of using reason and contemplating what was necessary.103
Right thinking was crucial for Stoics.104 A Stoic could contend that what matters most is to think rightly, being unafraid of fortune and joyful in hardship.105 By disciplining the mind, people can learn to abstain from any pleasure, to endure any pain.106 Stoics developed cognitive exercises in order to form habits of interpreting reality according to their philosophic beliefs.107 Some adopted some Pythagorean exercises, such as taking inventory in the evening of one’s reactions during the day.108 For Stoics, the way things appeared was not necessarily reality; appearances were distorted by wrong thinking about them.109 Indeed, externals were irrelevant to one’s core identity.110
The cognitive element in Paul’s imperative in Romans 6:11 should not be underestimated. Nor should we underestimate Paul’s prior emphasis on identity; self-knowledge, including recognition of one’s limitations, was a fundamental issue in ancient philosophy.
Excursus: Self-Knowledge111
The Delphic saying “Know yourself” probably originally meant to recognize one’s limitations as a human and thus submit to the gods and one’s lot in life.112 It became one of the most frequently cited maxims of Greek antiquity,113 and many writers regarded it as one of life’s most basic truths.114 Ancient interpreters applied it in a variety of ways,115 but some writers applied it in a manner consistent with its original sense. Plutarch, for example, declares that the flatterer violates the maxim by causing others to deceive themselves.116 Elsewhere, addressing those who would censure others, he admonishes them to “know themselves,” that is, search themselves first.117 A Cynic writer explains that self-knowledge includes diagnosis of one’s soul’s diseases, moving one to get proper philosophic treatment.118 One speaker declares that mortals understand who they are only when they study all of nature.119 A Roman satirist uses the saying to critique those who specialize in esoteric knowledge but are ignorant of daily matters.120 Aristotle notes that the vain are those who lack self-knowledge.121 Some of Plato’s applications retain the basic sense: virtue must come from knowledge, and true self-control relates to proper self-knowledge.122 For Philo, self-deification, in contrast to recognizing the creator, can be cured by proper self-knowledge.123 Such proper self-knowledge prepares one for the proper knowledge of God.124
This idea of self-knowledge as humility was not limited to the statement “Know yourself”; as Epictetus points out, “The man who does not know who he is, and what he is born for, and what sort of world this is that he exists in, and whom he shares it with . . . such a man, to sum it all up, will go about deaf and blind, thinking that he is somebody, when he really is nobody.”125
Other applications became more common in time, however. The magical papyri apparently use the saying as an exhortation to secure power over one’s daimon by magical formulas, using it for inquiry.126 It moved even further from its original sense in the Hermetica, which interpret it into a summons to divinization.127 Yet long before the Hermetica, Cicero interpreted the maxim as declaring that knowing one’s own soul was godlike (divinum);128 by Pompey’s day an Athenian inscription announced that recognition of one’s humanity produced divinity;129 Neoplatonic self-knowledge included the reality that the real self did not include the body, inviting divine union;130 and many philosophers had linked knowledge of God and participation in divinity.131 This view never became the only one, however; not long after the time of John, Plutarch interpreted the response to “Know yourself” as the fact that only the deity was changeless and mortals were not divine.132
As Stowers notes, philosophers believed that the wise “could reconstitute the self on a new basis,” allowing it to achieve virtue by mastering “passions and desires.” Different philosophies insisted on different ways to bring about the “new self,” but all attributed wrong passions to false beliefs about reality. The different schools merely disagreed on which beliefs about reality were false!133
Stoics taught their disciples a new worldview, moving from youthful self-awareness and self-seeking to a more mature, wider view of the world,134 where things are valued according to nature rather than according to how they benefit the self.135 When the mind moves to contemplation of the cosmos, one transcends one’s mortality to contemplate divine matters.136
Stoic wisdom focused on self-cognition—a new view of one’s own identity, a new self-awareness in a “radically cognitive” way.137 For Stoics, this meant not a replacement of the “I-person” but a new content of that identity.138 Some suggest that Paul identifies with Christ in a manner analogous to how Stoics identified with reason.139
Identifying with Christ
Despite some very limited analogies, Paul’s idea of identification with Christ is distinctive. Identification with a deity is attested in some popular texts in an Egyptian context,140 though in contrast to Paul’s approach, many of these texts might be intended to deceptively manipulate spirits, perhaps as sympathetic magic.141 The practice of a patron or recommender identifying with a client or friend, however, was common; one could request that the receiver grant the requested favor for the person “as if he were myself,” or in similar ways.142 Friends and allies sometimes said, “I am as you are,” or “What is mine is yours.”143 One might deem a close friend as another iteration of oneself.144
For Paul, however, this identification with another is no mere useful fiction or hyperbole;145 it reflects a genuine union with Christ on which the cognitive decision is based. As Luke Timothy Johnson observes, believers are to act new in Romans 6 “precisely because they have been given the power of new life (5:17, 21).”146 Taking into account God’s help offers a different view of reality and thus a motivation to act accordingly.147 Like Abraham, believers can act with faith in what God speaks more than in the usual patterns of finite existence (Rom. 4:19–21). That human pride or “boasting” would rebel at this approach is not surprising; in Christ, it is God rather than ourselves who gets the credit for our righteousness (cf. 2:17, 23; 3:27; 4:2; 5:11).
Given the reality in Christ, a forced choice between forensic and participationist categories is not necessary.148 Both instrumental149 and local, as well as personal and corporate,150 uses of “in Christ” appear in various contexts.151 The experiential aspect is accomplished through the Spirit, not through a mystical sense of Christ’s body;152 the body was actually a common ancient metaphor for the state.153
Living Out the New Identity
For Paul, “reckoning” offers the link between the justified new identity and the expected new, righteous behavior. Scholars often note a tension or (as I would put it) a complementarity154 in Paul between the indicative and the imperative.155 Because believers are new in Christ, they should act accordingly. The connection between the changed identity of believers in Romans 6:1–10 and the exhortations of 6:12–23 (which is also full of reminders of changed identity) is the exhortation156 in 6:11 to account oneself dead to sin but alive to God in Christ.157
That is, one must recognize the truth of one’s new situation. Although Paul’s multiple rhetorical questions in 6:1–3 accumulate rhetorical force, Paul’s question in 6:3 might also function as a hypothetical connection between the failure to live out the new life and ignorance of the new reality (ἀγνοεῖτε). Paul also predicates confidence in believers’ future destiny in Christ on the knowledge of their death with Christ (γινώσκοντες in 6:6, εἰδότες in 6:9). This cognitive motif climaxes with embracing God’s perspective in 6:11 (λογίζεσθε).
An imperative based on a prior indicative, or commandments based on prior redemption, also fits an Old Testament model of exhortation.158 The concept would have been intelligible to others in antiquity, although Paul would apply their premise of prior goodness159 only to those first transformed by grace. Compare the early Greek poet Pindar: “Become such as you are, having learned what that is.”160 The same sort of argument makes sense in a Stoic context as well.161
Like Stoics, Paul seeks to help believers understand their new identification, an understanding in which they must progress and for which paraenesis is helpful.162 In Stoicism, “Once a person had come to the decisive insight and self-understanding that reordered every value in relation to that insight, then one was qualitatively different, even if one still” needed to be exhorted with respect to details.163 Paul’s paraenesis in Romans remains consistent with his prior argument.
Considering Paul’s Solution
Paul would not view his approach as merely a mental reform method, analogous to that of philosophers. His understanding of faith in Christ’s work of righteousness includes accepting righteous status in Christ and leaving the righteousness-forming work to God. In Romans 7 Paul will argue that mere religion or knowledge of God’s standards does not transform the identity of the sinful person in God’s sight; it simply reorganizes the flesh in a more orderly and less harmful way.164 What alternative solution does Paul offer? The mind of faith—the mind that trusts in Christ—recognizes a new identity, in which the past is forgiven and one’s bodily impulses do not set one’s agenda.
In today’s language, Paul would presumably allow that the old triggers may remain, yet he would insist that those who count themselves dead with Christ (Rom. 6:11) can choose not to react to these triggers, which do not belong to their fundamental new identity. In the sight of the true judge, one is justified by Christ and therefore may live from one’s new identity defined in him. Thus, both accusations and temptations, framed as charges that one must answer or the belief that one’s desires define one’s choices, may be dismissed and left with Christ (8:31–34).165 The patterns need not be denied; they simply need not be embraced as determinative of one’s current identity or choices. When they seem too insistent to be dismissed, one may lay claim forcefully to one’s identity in Christ based on what Christ has done. This new construction of personal identity is reinforced by one’s new social identity as part of the people of God.166
Is affirmation of one’s new identity simply a psychological tool for transformation? Psychologists who work on self-esteem do help people in a sense to embrace a new identity that is less susceptible to old patterns of thinking. Paul would surely affirm the value of viewing oneself as loved by God (Rom. 5:8–11; 8:31–39; Gal. 2:20). Moreover, he would agree that expectations help shape behavior; certainly, there are reasons why Paul reminds believers of their new identity when urging them to live their new way rather than their old way (1 Cor. 6:11).
For Paul, however, the new identity includes a genuine gift of righteousness in Christ: objective forgiveness of the past and a new destiny. Their identity in Christ is distinct from and more fundamental than their self-perception, because it rests on God’s verdict. The believer does not achieve the new identity by consciously remembering or reckoning it, but when one does recognize it (as in Rom. 6:11), one’s awareness and consequent action are brought into closer alignment with one’s identity as righteous in Christ. The believer appropriates this reality in experience by acting on faith in the same gospel that provided the new identity to begin with.
In an exclusively psychological approach a believer can imagine that Christ is living through the believer; one may thus live as if God’s new character is formed within one (cf. Gal. 2:20; 4:19; 5:22–23). The difference between this approach and Paul’s perspective is that for him, this affirmation does in fact correspond with divine reality, on the level of God’s verdict and what he calls the believer to share in affirming. The “as if” is grounded in divine justification.167
Conclusion
Paul argues for a new identity in Christ, one defined historically in relation to Christ’s death and resurrection and eschatologically in relation to believers’ ultimate and completed destiny. Whereas existence in the world conceives its identity in terms of the individual’s past and present experience, life in Christ derives its identity from Christ—both his past death and resurrection for us and our future destiny in him.
Paul lays out both indicative and imperative elements in Romans 6. The indicative element is Christ’s decisive death and resurrection, historically accomplished events, and the believer’s new identity in Christ. The imperative invites the believer to believe even more fully—as one has accepted the meaning of Christ’s death and resurrection for reconciliation with God, one should also accept its implications for one’s new life.
Believers being righted168 is God’s perfect gift in Christ; new behavior may now proceed from a new identity, rather than from trying to achieve a right identity by one’s own imperfect behaviors. New behavior is thus achieved not by weighing temptation as if nothing decisive has happened but by regularly recognizing that Christ has already defeated sin, a recognition that Pauline theology also calls “putting on” the new person (Rom. 13:14; Eph. 4:24; Col. 3:12, 14). Insofar as any battle remains, it is a battle of faith in Christ’s triumph rather than a self-focused struggle to defeat the flesh by means of the flesh.
1. Jewish people would understand God’s decrees to be efficacious in any case; see, e.g., Gen. 1:3, 9, 11, 14–15. Paul also compares God’s efficacious command of light to exist with the transformation of hearts through God’s message (2 Cor. 4:6).
2. Cf. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and Stoics, 218–19, contending that enabling righteousness is what Paul believes distinguishes Christ faith from Jewish and Gentile efforts.
3. Identity formation is an important area of discussion in social sciences (e.g., Côte and Schwartz, “Approaches”; Somers, “Constitution”; Danielson, Lorem, and Kroger, “Impact”; Bosma and Kunnen, “Determinants”; Apple, “Power”; Adams, “Habitus”; Thomas and Azmitia, “Class”; Hoof, “Field”) that invites further exploration with regard to Pauline anthropology but that I do not address here. Self-concept is sometimes discussed in terms of ethnic, cultural, religious, and gender identity (cf., e.g., Portes and MacLeod, “Hispanic Identity Formation”; Kibria, “Construction”; Côte, “Perspectives”; Jensen, “Coming of Age”; Brega and Coleman, “Effects”; Yoder, “Barriers”), with obvious relevance here; group identity through affiliations and collective identity that can rank over individual identity are relevant areas of discussion in terms of interpersonal identity development.
4. See, e.g., t. Abod. Zar. 3:11; b. Ber. 47b; Abod. Zar. 57a; Yebam. 46ab; y. Qid. 3:12, §8; Epict. Diatr. 2.9.20 (perhaps also Juv. Sat. 14.104; Sib. Or. 4.165; Justin Dial. 29.1); Pusey, “Baptism”; Schiffman, “Crossroads,” 128–31; Schiffman, Jew, 26; Goppelt, Theology, 1:37; Bruce, History, 156; Ladd, Theology, 41; Meeks, Urban Christians, 150; my discussion more fully in Keener, Acts, 1:977–82, esp. 979–82. It is highly unlikely that early Judaism borrowed the practice from Christians. I do not address here whether Paul applies this image figuratively or literally, though initiation was sometimes applied figuratively (e.g., Max. Tyre Or. 8.7).
5. White, Initiation, 66; Keener, John, 542–44. For deliverance from evil in conversion to the covenant, see CD 16.4–5. For moral transformation and newness, see, e.g., L.A.B. 20:2; 27:10; Jos. Asen. 8:9/8:10–11.
6. For Paul, identity “in Christ” does not eliminate ethnic identities but is more central (see Johnson Hodge, “Apostle”).
7. Although there is some debate about whether the activation of some aspects of new life in Rom. 6 is present or future, it is clear in the larger context of Romans that the present experience of life in Christ (6:11; 8:10) foreshadows future resurrection (8:11) for those who persevere (8:12–13).
8. E.g., Dio Cass. 45.47.5; Exod. Rab. 5:4.
9. Klauck, Context, 225, citing a curse tablet in CIL 1.1012; 6.140.
10. Iambl. Pyth. Life 17.73–75; 34.246; Burkert, “Craft,” 18.
11. Dead in Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 60.4; 1 Tim. 5:6; continually dying in Philost. Vit. Apoll. 1.9.
12. Mus. Ruf. frg. 53, p. 144.24–25.
13. Epict. Diatr. 1.5.4.
14. Lucret. Nat. 3.1046; Epict. Diatr. 1.13.5. For references specifically to mortality or one under the sentence of death, cf. Gen. 20:3; b. Pesah. 110a; Diog. Laert. 2.35; perhaps Macrob. Comm. 1.11.2 (in van der Horst, “Macrobius,” 224).
15. Philo Mos. 1.279; cf. Zeller, “Life”; Conroy, “Death.”
16. Philo Alleg. Interp. 1.106.
17. Sir. 22:11–12. Cf. perhaps the proverb in Aeschylus Lib. 926.
18. Jos. Asen. 8:9 (Greek 8:11); cf. perhaps Daube, New Testament and Judaism, 137, and the sources cited in Buchanan, Consequences, 201 (m. Ed. 5:2; Pesah. 8:8; b. Pesah. 92a).
19. E.g., y. Ber. 2:2, §9; Gen. Rab. 39:7; Eccl. Rab. 9:5, §1. “As dead in the world to come” appears in Tg. Qoh. on 9:5.
20. E.g., Bultmann, Christianity, 158–59; Klausner, Jesus to Paul, 106, citing a fourth-century Christian text.
21. E.g., Persephone in Apollod. Bibl. 1.5.3 (though she was taken to the underworld alive); cf. Burkert, Religion, 160; Casadio, “Failing God.”
22. E.g., ANET 52–57. Greeks were familiar with the motif in Egyptian sources; see, e.g., the second-century writers Plut. Isis 35, Mor. 364F; Max. Tyre Or. 2.5.
23. Wagner, Baptism, 119.
24. E.g., Plut. Nic. 13.7.
25. Wagner, Baptism, 171–207, esp. 195. Some sources suggest seasonal revivification (Apollod. Bibl. 3.14.4), but as noted below, this differs greatly from early Jewish and Christian notions and origins of the resurrection.
26. Wagner, Baptism, 219, 229.
27. Cf. Otto, Dionysus, 79–80, 103–19.
28. E.g., Hom. Il. 5.339–42, 382–404, 855–59, 870; on the death of Pan in Plut. Mor. 419.17, see Borgeaud, “Death.”
29. See fragments of dithyrambic poetry (ca. 1 BCE) in SP 3:390–93.
30. See the documentation in Gasparro, Soteriology, 30n16; Mettinger, “Dying God.”
31. Proclus Poet. 6.1, K75.6–11.
32. For many mystery “parallels” with Christianity deriving only from a later period, see Metzger, “Considerations,” 10–11; Eliade, Rites, 115.
33. Benoit, “Mystères,” 79–81.
34. E.g., Conzelmann, Theology, 11; cf. Case, Origins, 111; Bultmann, Christianity, 158–59; Ridderbos, Paul: Outline, 22–29.
35. Burkert, Mystery Cults, 100.
36. Wagner, Baptism, 266–67. See, e.g., Apul. Metam. 11, whom Dunand (“Mystères,” 58) interprets thus. For Apuleius dying and rising there, see Apul. Metam. 11.18, 23.
37. E.g., Firm. Mat. Err. prof. rel. 22, in Grant, Religions, 146.
38. Wagner, Baptism, 87. Thus, Heracles sought initiation so he could capture Cerberus in Hades (Apollod. Bibl. 2.5.12).
39. Gasparro, Soteriology, 82.
40. Bousset, Kyrios Christos, 57, 191; cf. also Reitzenstein, Mystery-Religions, 9–10, 13; Käsemann, Romans, 161.
41. For vegetative associations, see, e.g., Ovid Metam. 5.564–71; Gasparro, Soteriology, 29, 43–49; Ruck, “Mystery,” 44–45; Guthrie, Orpheus, 55–56.
42. Cf. Metzger, “Considerations,” 19–20; Ring, “Resurrection,” 228.
43. See, e.g., Hor. Ode 3.2.25–29; Livy 39.13.1–8; Plut. Educ. 14, Mor. 10F; Paus. 2.3.4; Heracl. Ep. 8; Apul. Metam. 3.15; Diog. Laert. 7.7.186; Athenag. Plea 4; Tatian Or. Gks. 27; Tert. Apol. 7.6; Burkert, Mystery Cults, 7–8; Mylonas, Eleusis, 224–29. Punishments for profaning mysteries appear in Xen. Hell. 1.4.14; Demosth. Meidias 175; Thucyd. 6.53.1–2; Ovid Metam. 3.710–20; Ps.-Plut. Ten Or. 2, Andocides, Mor. 834CD.
44. Wagner, Baptism; Goppelt, Theology, 2:49; Dunn, “Demythologizing,” 293; Dunn, Romans, 1:308–11; Cranfield, Romans, 1:301–3; Wedderburn, “Soteriology”; Fitzmyer, Romans, 431.
45. For connection of the “old person” here with Adam, see Cyril Alex. Rom. on 6:6 (PG 74:796; Bray, Romans, 159); Barth, Romans, 197; Tannehill, Dying, 24; Moo, Romans, 374; Fitzmyer, Romans, 436; Keck, Romans, 163; Vlachos, “Operation,” 55–56; cf. the allusion in Eph. 4:22–24 and esp. Col. 3:9–10. In Jewish thought, Adam introduced sin and thus death (4 Ezra 3:7; 4:30; 2 Bar. 17:2–3; 23:4; 48:42–45; 56:5–6; L.A.E. 44:3–4; Sipre Deut. 323.5.1; 339.1.2; cf. Gen. 2:17), even though individuals replicated Adam’s sin for themselves (4 Ezra 3:21; 2 Bar. 18:1–2; 54:15, 19).
46. Davies, Paul, 103–4; Haacker, Theology, 65 (citing Wedderburn, “Soteriology,” 71, who cites m. Pesah. 10:5).
47. Stoics went further than Platonists in believing that the passions could be extirpated, a view that many others criticized (Knuuttila and Sihvola, “Analysis,” 16–17). Platonists shared the ideal, but more realistically (cf., e.g., Emilsson, “Plotinus on Emotions,” 359). Paul may resemble Stoics to some extent here (Tobin, Rhetoric, 229) but, perhaps more important, follows the Jewish notion of the eschatological destruction of sin (see discussion below, pp. 41–42).
48. Meeks (Moral World, 44–45) notes that Stoics had backed away from this position by the time of Plutarch.
49. Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 116.1 (allowing Lucilius to keep his emotions once Seneca has purged them of vice). Cf. also Ep. Lucil. 75.1–3; the favorable opinion of Fabianus’s self-control appears in Sen. E. Controv. 2.pref.2. For Stoics opposing it in speeches, see Mus. Ruf. frg. 36, p. 134.14–16; Anderson, Rhetorical Theory, 61.
50. Meeks, Moral World, 45. Modern studies show that emotion and intellect cannot be separated as neatly as ancient thinkers often wished (see Elliott, Feelings).
51. Knuuttila and Sihvola (“Analysis,” 16–17) note that Plato was negative toward emotions because he wanted “to achieve detachment from a changing reality” (e.g., Tim. 42AD), but, like the Stoics, he did not believe that it was possible to extirpate them.
52. Knuuttila and Sihvola, “Analysis,” 16; Tobin, Rhetoric, 229. Plotinus, a Neoplatonist, advises “eliminating the affections to the extent this is possible” (Emilsson, “Plotinus on Emotions,” 359).
53. Kraftchick (“Πάθη”) argues that Aristotle urged use of rational arguments to generate pathos (48–50) but that Paul’s letter to the Romans used pathos as an appeal to stir or sway audience emotion (52–53). Paul employs pathos in his letters, formally like Roman orators, but appeals to arguments like Aristotle (56). On ēthos and pathos in Paul’s letters, see also Sumney, “Rationalities.” On Aristotle’s use of emotion, see Hall, “Delivery,” 232; Walde, “Pathos,” 599; Olbricht, “Pathos as Proof,” 12–17. Others also complained about excessive use of rhetorical passion (Plut. Cic. 5.4).
54. Knuuttila and Sihvola, “Analysis,” 17; cf. Meeks, Moral World, 44–45; Dillon, “Philosophy,” 796. Although Plato also valued the mean or moderation (Lodge, Ethics, 392, 442–55), it was particularly associated with Aristotle (Arist. N.E. 2.7.1–9.9, 1107a–1109b; E.E. 2.3.1–5.11, 1220b–1222b). For others, see, e.g., Cic. Fin. 3.22.73; Hor. Sat. 1.1.106–7; 1.2; Ep. 1.18.9; Pliny E. N.H. 28.14.56; Plut. Dinner 20, Mor. 163D; 21, Mor. 164B; Diog. Laert. 1.93 (Cleobulus, ca. 600 BCE); Let. Aris. 111, 122, 223, 256; Ps.-Phoc. 36, 59–69b, 98. See also the Delphic inscription counseling avoidance of extremes, Plut. E Delph. 2, Mor. 385D; Or. Delphi 29, Mor. 408E.
55. Philo Abr. 257; Jos. 26; Spec. Laws 3.96; 4.102 (cf. 4.144); Virt. 195; Migr. 147; Wolfson, Philo, 2:277.
56. Philo Alleg. Interp. 2.100, 102; 3.129; Plant. 98.
57. Philo Alleg. Interp. 3.129, 131, 134; Unchangeable 67; Agr. 17.
58. Philo Alleg. Interp. 3.140, 144.
59. Sometimes Paul employs the verb ἐπιθυμέω and its cognates in a neutral manner (cf. Phil. 1:23; 1 Thess. 2:17), but this usage was not unusual. Assuming that the Spirit as well as the flesh exercises desires, the same verb can apply both positively and negatively in Gal. 5:17; it is positive in 1 Tim. 3:1.
60. See esp. Rom. 1:24; 7:7; 13:9, 13–14; 1 Cor. 10:6; Gal. 5:17, 24 (surrounding a vice list in 5:19–21); Col. 3:5 (as part of a vice list). Stoics applied Paul’s term for “sin” more widely, for anything not according to reason (e.g., Arius Did. 2.7.8a, p. 52.21–22; 2.7.11a, p. 62.31–33; 2.7.11d, p. 66.28–32; 2.7.11e, p. 68.17–20; 2.7.11g, p. 72.12; 2.7.11i, p. 78.20; 2.7.11k, p. 84.4, 9–10; 2.7.11L, p. 85.35; Mus. Ruf. 2, p. 36.16–17; 8, p. 64.11; 16, p. 102.14–16; Epict. Diatr. 1.18; 4.12.19; Marc. Aur. 9.4; but cf. Mus. Ruf. frg. 44, p. 138.26–30). For Paul, however, the term applies “only to moral conduct” (Deming, Celibacy, 173). In ordinary Greek it could apply merely to “error” (Rhet. Alex. 4, 1427a.30–31, 38–39).
61. E.g., b. Yebam. 47b.
62. B. Yebam. 45b–46a. Cf. discussions in Bamberger, Proselytism, 127; Buchanan, Consequences, 206; Falk, “Law,” 509; Stern, “Aspects,” 628; Schiffman, Jew, 36–37.
63. For these, see, e.g., inscriptions in Deissmann, Light, 319–23 (including among Diaspora Jews, 321–22).
64. See esp. Deissmann, Light, 323–27.
65. Bartchy, Slavery, 121–25.
66. See, e.g., Deut. 32:36; Urbach, Sages, 1:386 (citing Sipre Shelah 115). I draw here from Keener, John, 750–51.
67. Philo Good Person 20.
68. E.g., m. Ab. 6:2; b. B. Metsia 85b; Qid. 22b (attributed to ben Zakkai); Gen. Rab. 92:1; Num. Rab. 10:8; Pesiq. Rab. 15:2; see, further, Abrahams, Studies (2), 213; Odeberg, Pharisaism, 50.
69. Crates Ep. 8, to Diogenes; Epict. Diatr. 4.7.17; cf. similarly Epict. Diatr. 3.24.68; Iambl. Pyth. Life 7.33; 17.78. Eurip. Hec. 864–67 says all are enslaved by something (money, fate, or law).
70. E.g., Arrian Alex. 3.11.2; Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 8.7; 27.4; Plut. Lect. 1, Mor. 37E; Superst. 5, Mor. 167B. One is also a slave of goals one serves (Philost. Hrk. 53.2).
71. E.g., Aeschines Tim. 42; Xen. Oec. 1.22–23; Hell. 4.8.22; Apol. 16; Mem. 1.3.8, 11; 1.5.1, 5; 4.5.3, 5; Soph. Antig. 756; Wom. Tr. 488–89; Plato Phaedr. 238E; Isoc. Demon. 21; Nic. 39 (Or. 3.34); Arrian Alex. 4.9.1; Diod. Sic. 10.9.4; 32.10.9; Sall. Catil. 2.8; Sp. Caes. 8.2; Cic. Amic. 22.82; Off. 1.29.102; 1.38.136; 2.5.18; Senect. 14.47; Prov. cons. 1.2; Hor. Sat. 2.7.83–87; Tibullus 2.4.1–3; Appian C.W. 5.1.8–9; Mus. Ruf. 3, p. 40.19; Sen. Y. Ben. 3.28.4; Ep. Lucil. 14.1; 39.6; 47.17; 110.9–10; 116.1; Nat. Q. 1.16.1; Epict. Diatr. 3.24.70–71, 75; Plut. Bride 33, Mor. 142E; Max. Tyre Or. 36.6; Porph. Marc. 34.523–25; Ach. Tat. 1.7.2–3; 5.25.6; Longin. Subl. 44.6; Diog. Laert. 2.75; 6.2.66; Diogenes Ep. 12; Heracl. Ep. 9; Socratics Ep. 14; Pyth. Sent. 21, 23; Apul. Metam. 11.15; Sir. 47:19. Derrett (“Sources”) also finds the idea in ancient Buddhist texts, though these are much further removed geographically.
72. E.g., Sen. Y. Ben. 3.20.1–2; Epict. Diatr. 1.11.37; 1.19.8; 3.24.68; 4.7.16–18; Aul. Gel. 2.18.9–10; Diog. Laert. 7.1.121–22; cf. Philo Cher. 107. Epictetus considered freedom to be pursuing only what one can control (see Pérez, “Freedom”).
73. E.g., Phaedrus 1.2.1–3, 11–31.
74. E.g., 4 Macc. 3:2; 13:1–2; T. Ash. 3:2; 6:5; T. Jos. 7:8; T. Jud. 18:6; Jos. Ant. 1.74; 4.133; 15.88; War 1.243; Philo Abr. 241; Alleg. Interp. 2.49; Creation 165; Good Person 17; Heir 269; Unchangeable 111; cf. Decharneux, “Interdits”; Let. Aris. 211, 221–23; T. Jud. 15:2, 5; T. Sim. 3:4; Rom. 6:6; 16:18; Phil. 3:19.
75. Odeberg, Gospel, 297–301; Odeberg, Pharisaism, 50–52, 56; cf. Gen. Rab. 94:8; Wis. 1:4. Cf. freedom from the hostile angel in CD 16.4–6; from the Angel of Death in late material in Exod. Rab. 41:7; 51:8; Num. Rab. 16:24; Song Rab. 8:6, §1; from astrological powers in t. Suk. 2:6; b. Ned. 32a; Shab. 156a; Suk. 29a; Gen. Rab. 44:10; Pesiq. Rab. 20:2.
76. Davies, Paul, 216; cf. already Ramsay, Other Studies, 89–90.
77. Although Paul usually reserves “kingdom” language for the future, he depicts Jesus’s current lordship in other ways (Rom. 8:34; 1 Cor. 15:24–25; Phil. 2:9; Col. 3:1). Scholars often remark on the early Christian principle of the already/not yet (Minear, Kingdom, 147; Aune, “Significance,” 5:93–94; Ladd, Theology, 322; Ridderbos, Paul and Jesus, 67), including in Pauline thought (Kümmel, Theology, 149; Howell, “Dualism”; Dunn, Theology, 466–72); for a possible relation to the foreshadowing and future day of the Lord in biblical prophets, cf. Ladd, Kingdom, 36.
78. See, e.g., Abrahams, Studies (1), 42. It is particularly for his failure to embrace the eschatological worldview that depends on divine activity that Martyn (“De-apocalypticizing”) criticizes Engberg-Pedersen; see also Wright, Faithfulness, 1386–1406, esp. (for this point) 1389, 1393.
79. Pesiq. Rab Kah. Sup. 3:2; Gen. Rab. 89:1; Exod. Rab. 46:4; Deut. Rab. 2:30; Eccl. Rab. 2:1, §1; 12:1, §1 (according to the likeliest sense); one rabbi in y. Suk. 5:2, §2. Schechter (Aspects, 257, 289–92) also cites Gen. Rab. 48:11; Exod. Rab. 46:4; Num. Rab. 15:16; and other texts. Montefiore and Loewe (Anthology, 122–23) also cite Num. Rab. 17:6. Bonsirven (Judaism, 246) adds Gen. Rab. 26:6; Song Rab. 6:14. The evil impulse ceases at death for the righteous in Gen. Rab. 9:5; even for the wicked in L.A.B. 33:3. But in b. Suk. 52b, in the judgment the evil impulse will testify against those it has seduced.
80. B. Suk. 52a; cf. Exod. Rab. 30:17; Moore, Judaism, 493.
81. Pesiq. Rab Kah. 24:17; b. Suk. 52a; Exod. Rab. 41:7; Deut. Rab. 6:14; Song Rab. 1:2; 6:11, §1. Other, earlier texts echo Ezekiel’s promise; see, e.g., 1QS 4.21; probably 4Q393 frgs. 1–2, col. 2.5 (cf. Ps. 51:10; Ezek. 11:19; 18:31).
82. 1QS 5.5 (according to the most likely way to translate the text); the idea here probably develops Deut. 30:6. The inclination appears in the context of straying after one’s own heart and eyes. Turning to God’s covenant also delivered one from sin, as long as one persevered (CD 16.4–6).
83. 2 Esd. 7:92 (NEB); cf. 7:114. See Wells, “Power,” esp. 101–3.
84. 1QS 3.18–19, 23; 4.18–26 (esp. 4.19, 23); Jub. 50:5; 1 En. 5:8–9; 10:16 (prefigured in the flood); 91:8–9, 16–17; 92:3–5; 107:1; 108:3; Pss. Sol. 17:32; T. Mos. 10:1; Sib. Or. 5.430 (if not a Christian interpolation); y. Abod. Zar. 4:7, §2; Deut. Rab. 3:11. For the annulling of sin offerings in some later rabbinic sources, cf. Davies, Torah, 54–55.
85. 4Q88 10.9–10; T. Mos. 10:1; T. Zeb. 9:8 MSS; cf. Jub. 50:5; Matt. 25:41; Rev. 20:10. Early Jewish sources often associated Satan with evil desires (T. Ash. 3:2; Apoc. Mos. 19:3; cf. Baudry, “Péché dans les écrits”) or the spirit (of the two spirits) that incites sin (Jub. 1:20–21; 1QS 3.18–22 [with CD 5.18]); as probably in 1QHa 15.6, some later rabbis associated Satan with the evil impulse (Schechter, Aspects, 244–45; Best, Temptation, 48; cf. b. B. Bat. 16a; Exod. Rab. 30:17).
86. Davies, Paul, 23; Ellison, Mystery, 62.
87. Although some translations render αἰών as “world” in some of these passages, “age” remains a more suitable English equivalent in the texts cited here.
88. For conversion as new creation in some sources, cf. Jub. 1:20–21; 5:12 (on which cf. Charles, Jubilees, lxxxiv); Sipre Deut. 32.2.1; Abot R. Nat. 12 A; 26, §54 B; b. Sanh. 99b; Song Rab. 1:3, §3; Davies, Paul, 119; Hunter, Gospel according to Paul, 24n1; Buchanan, Consequences, 210; more fully, Chilton, “Galatians 6:15”; Hubbard, New Creation, 54–76, esp. 73–74. For Rosh Hashanah, see, e.g., Lev. Rab. 29:12; Moore, Judaism, 1:533; cf. Moses in Exod. Rab. 3:15 (based on a wordplay); the Messiah in Midr. Pss. 2, §9 (on Ps. 2:7).
89. 1 En. 72:1; Jub. 1:29; 4:26; cf. 1QS 4.25 (on which see also Ringgren, Faith, 165). See further Stephens, “Destroying”; Stephens, Annihilation; for OT usage, see Hubbard, New Creation, 11–25; in Jubilees, Hubbard, New Creation, 26–53. Later, cf. Qur’an 56.35.
90. See Strachan, Corinthians, 113–14; Héring, Second Epistle, 43; Bultmann, Corinthians, 157; Bornkamm, Experience, 22; Furnish, Corinthians, 314–15; Beale, “Background”; Dunn, Theology, 180; Barnett, Corinthians, 46, 225; Wright, Faithfulness, 478. For an individual’s renewal as part of a wider new creation, cf. 1QHa 19.16–17; Jackson, Creation.
91. For discussion of the connection between 2 Cor. 5:16 and 5:17 (and taking κατὰ σάρκα with οἴδαμεν and ἐγνώκαμεν, not Χριστόν), see further, e.g., Davies, Paul, 195; Martyn, “Epistemology,” 286; Ladd, Theology, 373; Betz, “Christuserkenntnis”; Stanton, Jesus of Nazareth, 89–90; Witherington, Corinthians, 347; Scott, Corinthians, 134; Lambrecht, Corinthians, 95–96. “From now on” in 5:16 points in this direction (Martin, Corinthians, 151). Paul’s opponents evaluate according to the flesh (2 Cor. 10:10; cf. 11:18), unlike Paul (10:2–4). In the Corinthian correspondence Paul repeatedly contrasts “this age,” “this world,” or “according to the flesh” with God’s perspective (Litfin, Theology, 175–76).
92. See Furnish, Corinthians, 330; cf. Robinson, Ephesians, 52; Héring, Second Epistle, 42; Bruce, Message, 27. Ancients could understand a changed perspective: after Isaeus had left his life of promiscuity, someone asked him whether a particular woman was beautiful; he retorted, “I have ceased to suffer from eye trouble” (Philost. Vit. soph. 1.20.513, trans. Wright, LCL, 69).
93. That is, because God is πιστός, πίστις in him is genuinely rational (cf. Heb. 11:11).
94. Cf. the virtue of wisdom as the ability to perceive what is true and real (Cic. Off. 2.5.18).
95. Scholars often accept Rom. 1:16–17 as a thesis statement introducing the argument of either Romans or its first section. Ancient arguments sometimes had thesis statements, though not always (see comment in Keener, Acts, 1:708–9).
96. Although it would be difficult to separate Abraham’s faith from his believing in Rom. 4:3–24, scholars currently debate whose πίστις appears in some of the passages, especially with references to “the faith[fulness] of Jesus” (3:22, 26). Aside from the disputed cases, however, enough emphasis on trust or faith(fulness) of Jesus’s followers remains in the section to make the point here. (Also in any case, believers’ faith rests on God’s/Jesus’s reliability/faithfulness.)
97. There is a variant in 5:2, though the majority of early texts do contain πίστις in some form.
98. Kant’s relegation of faith to the subjective realm (though Kant himself still regarded the subjective realm as real) created the impasse that Kierkegaard sought to surmount with a leap into the dark. This modern conception that often informs our contemporary usage is not, however, the biblical sense of the term translated “faith.” But even some Puritans apparently focused on the reliability of their faith. Analysis of subjective faith seems more prevalent in heavily Protestant societies that emphasize faith for soteriology and the necessity of election and/or conversion; such analysis may be less common where those actively professing Christ are a minority (and where their faith is not confused with ethnic allegiance), such that lines of faith demarcation are more self-evident.
99. Again my focus is not on the grammatical debate but simply theological: where specified, Christ and the Father are the normal objects of Pauline faith.
100. For Rom. 6:11 as the summary of 6:1–10, see Hubbard, New Creation, 94 (after clearly tracing the passage’s structure); cf. Bornkamm, Experience, 75. (This structure seems more compelling than the ingenious chiasm proposed in Boers, “Structure.”)
101. Origen Comm. Rom. on 6:11 (CER 3:188; trans. Bray, Romans, 162). Cf. Strong, who, however, puts less emphasis on ontological change: “Some prophecies produce their own fulfilment. Tell a man he is brave, and you help him to become so. So declaratory justification, when published in the heart by the Holy Spirit, helps to make men just” (Systematic Theology, 860).
102. Such as focusing the mind on nature, to live in harmony with it (Mus. Ruf. frg. 42, p. 138.9–11), or on the soul (Plut. Pleas. L. 14); the gods would reward a good mind (Max. Tyre Or. 8.7). One’s thinking (φρόνημα) should always be “turned toward God” (Porph. Marc. 20.327–29; trans. O’Brien Wicker, 63); one’s speaking would thus be inspired (ἔνθεος, 20.329). Oaths to Caesar could even promise mental loyalty (CIG 3.137; OGIS 532; Sherk, Empire, §15, p. 31).
103. Mus. Ruf. 16, p. 106.3–6, 12–16.
104. Still, Stowers (following Rist, Stoic Philosophy, esp. 22–36, 256–72), warns, “It is misleading to overstress the cognitivist character of early Stoic thought” (Rereading, 361n22).
105. Sen. Y. Nat. Q. 3.pref.11–15.
106. Sen. Y. Dial. 4.12.4–5. Lutz, Musonius, 28, observes that Musonius also opined that through disciplining one’s mind (Mus. Ruf. 6, p. 54.16–25) a wise person would achieve self-mastery (6, p. 54.2–10).
107. See Sorabji, Emotion, 165, 211–27. Some techniques remain useful today, e.g., relabeling (222–23). For Cynic practice of virtues, see, e.g., Malherbe, Philosophers, 16.
108. Sorabji, Emotion, 213.
109. Sorabji, Emotion, 165.
110. Mitsis, “Origin,” 173.
111. Adapted from Keener, John, 236–37.
112. Nilsson, Piety, 47–48; Grant, Religions, xxii–xxiii; Marshall, Enmity, 192–93, 201; also Plut. Demosth. 3.2. Diog. Laert. 1.40 attributes the proverb to Thales.
113. E.g., Plato Alcib. 1.129A; Charm. 164E–65A; Lov. 138A; Xen. Mem. 3.9.6; 4.2.24; Diod. Sic. 9.10.2; Epict. frg. 1; Plut. Flatt. 25, Mor. 65F; Profit by Enemies 5, Mor. 89A; Dinner 21, Mor. 164B; E Delph. 17, Mor. 392A; 21, Mor. 394C; Hippol. Ref. 1.15. Allusions are also frequent, e.g., Antisthenes in Diog. Laert. 6.1.6; Epict. Diatr. 1.2.11; 1.18.17; Cic. Fin. 3.22.73; Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 35.
114. E.g., Epict. Diatr. 3.1.18; Plut. Apoll. 28, Mor. 116CD; E Delph. 2, Mor. 385D; Or. Delphi 29, Mor. 408E; R. Col. 20, Mor. 1118C.
115. For a survey, see Reiser, “Erkenne.”
116. Plut. Flatt. 1, Mor. 49B.
117. Plut. Profit by Enemies 5, Mor. 89A; cf. a similar sense in Thales, according to Diog. Laert. 1.36.
118. Diogenes Ep. 49.
119. One view appears in Cic. Fin. 5.16.44; in 5.15.41–43 one offers the view that we come to this knowledge only over time.
120. Juv. Sat. 11.23–28.
121. Arist. N.E. 4.3.36, 1125a.
122. Plato Charm. passim; Alcib. 1.129A; Lov. 138A. For a fuller discussion of Plato’s view of knowledge, cf. Gould, Ethics, 3–30.
123. Philo Spec. Laws 1.10.
124. Philo Spec. Laws 1.264–65; Migr. 195; Dreams 1.60; cf. Unchangeable 161; Names 54; Dreams 1.211–12.
125. Epict. Diatr. 2.24.19 (trans. Oldfather, LCL, 1:417); cf. quite similarly, Marc. Aur. 8.52.
126. Betz, “Maxim in Papyri.”
127. Betz, “Hermetic Interpretation,” 465–84; cf. Dodd, “Prologue,” 16.
128. Cic. Tusc. 1.22.52.
129. Plut. Pomp. 27.3.
130. Porph. Marc. 32.485–95.
131. Winslow, “Religion,” 246.
132. Plut. E Delph. 17, Mor. 392A and context; see also Meeks, Moral World, 43.
133. Stowers, “Resemble,” 92. Articulation of divine realities in noetic terms appears from Philo and some patristic writers through medieval Judaism; see Giulea, “Noetic Turn.”
134. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and Stoics, 53–54, citing Cic. Fin. 3.
135. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and Stoics, 55–59, citing Cic. Fin. 3.20–21.
136. Sen. Y. Nat. Q. 1.pref.7, 17.
137. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and Stoics, 65.
138. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and Stoics, 55. Philosophers disagreed as to whether the “I-person” could continue eternally (see Sorabji, Emotion, 243–49), but the self could continue during one’s life.
139. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and Stoics, 70, 91, 95 (citing, e.g., Phil. 1:20–21). For Philo, the fixed point was not human freedom or choice but God (cf. Levy, “Breaking”).
140. E.g., PGM 1.178–81.
141. Cf. Book of Dead, Spell 30, parts P-1 and 2; Spell 43a, part P-1, 43b; Spell 79, part S-2; Spell 85a, part S-1; Spell 131, parts P-1 and 2, S-1; Spells 145–46; PGM 1.251–52; 4.169–70, 216–17, 385–90; PDM Suppl. 131–32, 163, 183. Unlike PGM and PDM, the Book of the Dead spells are pre-Christian.
142. E.g., P.Oxy. 32.5–6; Cic. Fam. 13.5.3; 13.45.1; 13.46.1; cf. Fronto Ad amicos 1.4, 8; 2.6; Ad verum imp. 2.7.7; 1 Cor. 16:10; Philem. 17–19; Kim, Letter of Recommendation, 7, 37–42.
143. Xen. Cyr. 5.4.29; 6.1.47; Sen. E. Controv. 8.5; Pliny Ep. 1.4.2–3; 6.18.3; 6.26.3; 6.28.3; 6.30.1; 6.32.2; Suet. Galba 20.1; 1 Kings 22:4; 2 Kings 3:7; 2 Chron. 18:3; Gal. 4:12. One might also put people on the same level negatively, as in Herodes Mime 2.8.
144. E.g., Diod. Sic. 17.37.6; Cic. Fam. 7.5.1; 13.1.5; Val. Max. 4.7.ext.2ab; Quint. Curt. 3.12.17; Pliny Ep. 2.9.1; cf. Cic. Fin. 1.20.70; Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 95.63; Let. Aris. 228; perhaps Cic. Or. Brut. 31.110.
145. Cranfield, Romans, 1:315: not pretending, “nor a mere ideal, but a deliberate and sober judgment on the basis of the gospel” that “accepts as its norm what God has done in Christ.” Cf. also Ladd, Theology, 479; Kruse, Romans, 267. Some suggest that Paul must emphasize transformation to counter charges or doubts such as appear in Rom. 3:8; cf. Tobin, Rhetoric, 216; Moo, Romans, 295; elsewhere, cf. Gal. 2:17–20.
146. Johnson, Romans, 105. Cf. Schlatter, Romans, 3: true faith brings about true righteousness, not by legalism but by oneness with Christ (cf. 133, 152); Schreiner, Romans, 305: “The focus in Rom. 6 is not on the penalty of sin but on its power”; Ortlund, “Justified,” 339: “Union with Christ inaugurates not merely external reformation but internal transformation.”
147. See, e.g., Jos. Ant. 3.44–45; Sir. 7:16 (μὴ προσλογίζου σεαυτόν); m. Ab. 2:1. Naturally, such views were effective only to the extent that they reflected genuine reality (1 Sam. 4:3, 6–11).
148. See Wright, Justification, 72; Wright, Faithfulness, 903, 912; in Reformers, McCormack, “Justification,” 171. The reaction against a participationist approach may have been partly because its early twentieth-century supporters indefensibly embedded the approach in mystery cults (Longenecker, Introducing Romans, 308) and other conceptual errors (310).
149. E.g., Conzelmann, Corinthians, 21; forensic in Parisius, “Deutungsmöglichkeit”; Campbell (Union) emphasizes the instrumental use more (but not exclusively).
150. For a corporate sense, see, e.g., Manson, Paul and John, 67; Gibbs, Creation, 132–33; esp. Robinson, Body.
151. See fuller discussions in Büchsel, “In Christus”; Neugebauer, “In Christo”; Robinson, Body; Best, Body; Davies, “In Christo”; Bouttier, En Christ; Toit, “In Christ”; Campbell, Union (particularly thoroughly). Following Deissmann (see Paul, 135–39), some have also argued for a mystical sense (Hatch, Idea, 38–39; Wikenhauser, Mysticism, 21–33, 50–65; Mary, Mysticism, 15–28; Thuruthumaly, “Mysticism”; Kourie, “Christ-Mysticism”; cf. Pathrapankal, “Christ”), though usually not in the sense of absorption (see Deissmann, Paul, 152–54). For the relational aspect, see, further, Dunn, Romans, 1:324; Dunn, Theology, 396–401.
152. See Judge, First Christians, 568–71.
153. Judge, First Christians, 581; Keener, Romans, 145; Keener, Corinthians, 103. The image was first attributed to Menenius Agrippa (Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 6.86.1–5; Livy 2.32.9–12; Plut. Coriol. 6.2–4; Dio Cass. 4.17.10–13), but many writers employed it after him (e.g., Sall. Ep. Caes. 10.6; Cic. Resp. 3.25.37; Phil. 8.5.15; cf. Arist. N.E. 1.7; T. Naph. 2:9–10). See also Stoic use for the cosmos, e.g., Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 95.52; Epict. Diatr. 1.12.26; Marc. Aur. 7.13.
154. Pace Bultmann, Engberg-Pedersen (Paul and Stoics, 224, on Rom. 6–8) argues that the indicative vs. imperative is not really a problem in need of a solution. Because the imperative functions as a reminder, and the matter is entirely cognitive, there is no contradiction (233; cf. 225). Engberg-Pedersen—and ancient Stoicism—may play down noncognitive elements too much (cf. Martyn, “De-apocalypticizing”; Stowers, “Self-Mastery,” 538), but he offers important insight on the cognitive element of the question in Rom. 6:11 and some other passages.
155. See, e.g., Ridderbos, Paul: Outline, 253–58; Goppelt, Theology, 2:136–37; Bornkamm, Experience, 71; Kümmel, Theology, 224–28; Dunn, Theology, 626–31; Saldanha, “Rediscovering”; Prasad, “Walking”; Matera, Romans, 161–63; Bird, Colossians, 95. Cf. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and Stoics, 294: “reminding his addressees of what has happened and his appeal to them to put it into practice.” But see esp. Horn and Zimmermann, Jenseits, including critique.
156. Jewett (Romans, 408) reads λογίζεσθε as indicative rather than as imperative, against “most commentators.” Context, however, rules firmly against this interpretation.
157. See Tannehill, Dying, 77.
158. Rosner, Ethics, 86–89, citing, e.g., Deut. 7:5–6; 14:1–2; 27:9–10.
159. Platonists deemed the true being or pure essence of the soul as wholly good (Iambl. Soul 8.45, §456; 8.48, §457; cf. Ps.-Simpl. De an. 241.16–17).
160. Γένοι᾽, οἷος ἐσσὶ μαθών (Pindar Pyth. 2.72; trans. Race, LCL, 1:238–39). Others also sometimes recognized the more general principle that accurate self-confidence would help one’s work (e.g., Pliny Ep. 1.3.5).
161. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and Stoics, 233.
162. Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and Stoics, 238–39.
163. Stowers, “Self-Mastery,” 536 (following Engberg-Pedersen).
164. Understanding God’s law could help one to fulfill it (Ps. 119:32, 34, 73, 104), and the law provided wider understanding that included a framework for understanding the world (119:130), but ultimately this must include the heart embracing the truth, i.e., faith (cf. 119:10–11, 34, 36, 69, 111–12, 161). Praying for understanding was good (119:125, 144, 169), as was praying for a heart to fulfill God’s word (119:80).
165. Presumably, such cognitive reckoning does not preclude prayer for protection from temptation (Matt. 6:13//Luke 11:4; cf. Mark 14:38; Col. 1:9; 1 Thess. 3:10; 2 Thess. 1:11; Philem. 6) or precautions taken to avoid succumbing to it (1 Cor. 7:5; Gal. 6:1; cf. 1 Cor. 10:13).
166. As my colleague Virginia Holeman in Asbury Theological Seminary’s school of counseling has brought to my attention (correspondence, Nov. 16, 2014), social reinforcement through relationships is a major factor in constructing social identity.
167. Cf. the valid protest of Wright (Faithfulness, 779) against Bultmann’s anthropocentric approach. Wright rightly emphasizes apocalyptic inner transformation here, corresponding to the sort of incipient or partially realized eschatology that Paul sometimes articulates. See also Wright, “Romans,” 541, quoted appropriately by Kruse, Romans, 267.
168. “Being righted” is traditionally rendered “justified” (sometimes “rightwised” or “put right”) in English. I have preferred something of a neologism to allow consideration of its multiple possible dimensions. A single word will not bear the entire concept, far less in translation; my neologism is meant to highlight a sometimes-neglected aspect, but it is not necessarily better than traditional renderings.