Paul’s Letter to the Philippians

INTRODUCTION

This commentary is written from the perspective that Philippians was one letter, written by the Apostle Paul from Rome in the early 60s, to his longtime friends and compatriots in the gospel who lived in Philippi, an outpost of Rome in the interior plain of eastern Macedonia. The aim of this Introduction is to “introduce” both the letter as I see it and this commentary on the letter. Although the various critical questions that belong to such an introduction will be touched on, one will need to go to the more traditional NT Introductions for fuller treatment of many of these issues.1 Here is what I perceive the letter to be about, which the commentary that follows will spell out in greater detail.

I. PHILIPPIANS AS A LETTER

It is common to “introduce” the Pauline letters by “reconstructing” the historical situation to which they were written. While that kind of reconstruction is extremely important for our understanding of Philippians (see section II below), here is a case where the question of “genre” must precede the questions of “history.”2 Thus we will first look at the letter as a piece of first-century “literature.”

A. Philippians and Ancient Letter Writing

In contrast to many of Paul’s other letters, especially the more polemical and/or apologetic letters such as Galatians and 1 and 2 Corinthians, Philippians reflects all the characteristics of a “letter of friendship,” combined with those of a “letter of moral exhortation.” Several matters point in this direction.

1. Philippians as a Letter of Friendship.3 Letter-writing, which was something of an “art” in pre-typewriter, pre-computer Western culture, was likewise taken with great seriousness by the ancient Greeks and Romans.4 Formal schooling would have included instruction in letter-writing.5 Two of the manuals for such instruction are extant, those by Pseudo-Demetrius and Pseudo-Libanius6—although they were probably intended for professional scribes rather than for school children. That by Pseudo-Demetrius lists and offers illustrations of twenty-one different types of letters. The first of these, the “friendly type,” was well known to all, and according to Cicero was the reason for the “invention of letter-writing.”7 In many ways this is the most “artless” of the letters, since what are now known as “family letters” very often belong to it.8 Nonetheless, certain characteristics are discernible, and most of these fit very well with one dimension of Paul’s letter to the Philippians.

First the theory, as illustrated by Pseudo-Demetrius’ example “letter”:

Even though I have been separated from you for a long time, I suffer this in body only. For I can never forget you or the impeccable way we were raised together from childhood up. Knowing that I myself am genuinely concerned about your affairs,9 and that I have worked unstintingly for what is most advantageous to you, I have assumed that you, too, have the same opinion of me, and will refuse me nothing. You will do well,10 therefore, to give close attention to the members of my household lest they need anything, to assist them in whatever they might need, and to write about whatever you should choose.

Although this illustration leans heavily toward the “reciprocation” of friendship (see next section), three features of this theoretical example are noteworthy for Philippians: (1) the note at the beginning that friendly letters are related to “absence” between friends (cf. Phil 1:27; 2:12); (2) that such letters are concerned with “the affairs” of both the sender and recipient (cf. Phil 1:12; 1:27; 2:19, 23); and (3) that the recipient “does well” in looking after the needs of the sender (cf. Phil 4:14).

More significantly, Loveday Alexander has recently subjected a series of “family letters” to an empirical “formal” analysis, and has shown, persuasively to my thinking, that a certain pattern emerges in these letters that is also in evidence in Philippians.11 She isolates seven items, including the salutation and concluding greetings (I have put the corresponding parts of Philippians in brackets):12

1. The address and greeting [1:1–2]

2. Prayer for the recipients [1:3–11]

3. Reassurance about the sender (= “my affairs”) [1:12–26]

4. Request for reassurance about the recipients (= “your affairs”) [1:27–2:18; 3:1–4:3]

5. Information about movements of intermediaries [2:19–30]

6. Exchange of greetings with third parties [4:21–22]

7. Closing wish for health [4:23]

There is also evidence for leaving a “thanksgiving” until the end 13—although in Philippians this is more likely a matter of rhetoric than of letter form (see on 4:10–20). The point to make is that at the “formal” level much of Philippians is explicable as a letter of friendship, of the “friendly, familial type.”14

On the other hand, Cicero considers “friendly letters” such as those noted in the papyri as not worthy of correspondence between true friends, since most of the former deal with mundane matters, while letters between friends should engage in conversation about weightier issues.15 Thus what we have in Philippians is a letter that has the formal character—and the “logic”—of a “friendly” or “family” letter; whereas in terms of content it carries on conversation at a much deeper level of friendship.

But “friendship” itself, of the kind Cicero was talking about, was another matter that the Greeks and Romans took with a kind of seriousness most moderns can scarcely appreciate. Since there are several indications within our letter that Paul understood his relationship with the Philippians to be a modified expression of “friendship,” a brief overview of this phenomenon is also necessary in order for us to understand Paul’s letter to them.

2. Friendship in the Greco-Roman World.16 As with most ancient societies friendship played a primary role in basic societal relationships in the Greco-Roman world, including politics and business. So important was this matter that it became a regular topic of philosophical discussions. Aristotle devoted a considerable section of his Nichomachean Ethics to a discussion of friendship, while Cicero and Plutarch have entire treatises on the topic, and Seneca addresses the issue in several of his “moral letters.” According to Aristotle (and others who followed his lead), there were three kinds of “friendship” between “equals”: (1) true friendship between virtuous people, whose relationship is based on goodwill and loyalty (including trust); (2) friendship based on pleasure, that is, on the enjoyment of the same thing, so that people enjoy the society of those who are “agreeable to us”; (3) friendship based on need, a purely utilitarian arrangement, which Aristotle disdains, as do most of his successors. Somewhat condescendingly, Aristotle also admitted the word friendship for relationships between “unequals”—parents and children, (generally) an older person and a younger, husband and wife, and ruler and the persons ruled.

The philosophical discussions of friendship deal primarily with the first kind, where a certain “core of ideals” emerge that were thought to be applicable to all genuine friendships.17 These included “virtue,” especially fidelity or loyalty; affection, in the form of mutual goodwill toward the other for his or her own sake; and especially the basic matter of mutual “giving and receiving (= social reciprocity) benefits” (= of goods and services, although reciprocity sometimes took the form of gratitude only).18 The matter of “benefits” called for some of the lengthiest discussions, because friendship could not be understood apart from “benefits,” but these could also be abused so as to undermine mutuality and trust. Because it entailed reciprocity whatever else, friendship also included a sense of “obligation” and expressions of “gratitude” (further goodwill). Moreover, and in ways very difficult for moderns to appreciate, friendship of this more or less “contractual” kind was also “agonistic” (competitive) in the sense that it was often discussed in the context of “enemies.”19 That is, to have friends automatically meant to have enemies, so that “constant attention to friends meant constant watchfulness of enemies.”20

One will easily see that many of these “ideals” are characteristic of Paul’s relationship to the Philippian believers in this letter. The letter in its entirety is predicated on his and their mutual goodwill; this is the “bottom line,” which is so secure that Paul has no hesitation in addressing, even exhorting, them as he does. Theirs has been a “participation/partnership” in the gospel from the very beginning, a partnership that involved the Philippians themselves in evangelism and in furthering the gospel through their “benefactions” to Paul. That same “partnership” now also includes mutual suffering for the gospel (1:29–30; 2:17). Friendship is further demonstrated by the oft-noted expressions of deep affection (e.g., 1:7, “I have you in my heart”; 1:8, “I long for you with the affection of Christ Jesus”; 4:1, “my beloved brothers and sisters, whom I long for, my joy and my crown, beloved”). Even more so, friendship is demonstrated in their mutuality and reciprocity, exhibited in a variety of ways: his earnestness to see them again for their own “progress” in the faith, since they have just recently “benefited” him in a material way; his praying for them (1:4) and their praying for him (1:19); but especially by their recent gift, Paul’s acknowledgment of which (4:10–20) is full of language indicating reciprocity in friendship. The sometimes “agonistic” character of friendship, which meant to have friends in the context of also having “enemies,” probably lies behind much of the language of “opposition” that marks the letter throughout (1:15–17, 28; 2:21; 3:2, 17–19). And friendship surely lies behind his concern that within their own community they “have the same mindset” (2:2–5; 4:2–3), for his and their friendship will be on rocky ground if theirs with one another is not sustained.

These expressions of friendship are further heightened by the fact that in this letter Paul studiously avoids any indication of a “patron-client” (or “patron-protégé”) relationship,21 which emerges so frequently in his other letters (either in the form of “apostleship” or in the imagery of “father” with children). Thus he begins by identifying himself and Timothy as “slaves” of Christ Jesus (1:1), who himself had become slave for all by dying on a cross (2:7–8). And though the major parts of the letter are exhortative, there is no appeal to Paul’s authority as the basis of his exhortation; rather he appeals to their mutuality in Christ (2:1) and to his own example, as he himself follows Christ’s example (3:4–14; so also 1:12–26 and 4:14).

In sum. Many of the aspects of letters of friendship are clearly evident in Philippians, not only in some of the “formal” matters, but even more so at key points along the way in the body of the letter. These include the “agonistic” nature of friendship in the Greco-Roman world, which is the probable key to one of the more perplexing issues in Philippians, that of “opponents.”

3. The Question of “Opponents.” There is nearly universal agreement that the Philippians are being harassed by “opponents” of some kind (some would say “kinds”); there is likewise nearly universal disagreement as to the “who,” “how many,” and “where” of these “opponents.” Indeed, the secondary literature on this issue 22 is second only to the huge output on 2:6–11 (see p. 192).23 But when, by one count, the hypotheses number at least eighteen, it is safe to say that the data in Philippians on which these hypotheses are constructed are less certain than are the assertions about “opponents” which appear in the literature.

The primary reason for the differences is the one never spoken to—methodology:24 how does one go about detecting the presence of opponents, and having done that, how should one assess the nature of their “teaching”? There are basically two ways of proceeding: first, to examine carefully all direct statements about “opponents,” with an eye toward those that might be in Philippi; second, assuming that opponents have been discovered at step one, to “mirror read” other statements so as to determine what they were “teaching.” Most of the difficulties, and almost all of the differences of opinion, lie with either a confusion of these two steps or with giving precedence to the second step, but without a controlled methodology.25

In the case of Philippians, two matters make this exercise tenuous: (1) As will be noted momentarily, the direct statements are themselves so ambiguous, indeed contradictory, that agreement as to identification is nearly impossible to come by. Moreover, (2) nothing in the letter itself implies anything remotely bordering on “capitulation” on the part of the Philippians.26 The closest thing to it might be the application of Paul’s personal story in 3:15–16 (q.v.); but in comparison with Galatians or 2 Corinthians 10–13, this is mild stuff indeed, and fits better the reality of friendship in any case.

Here, then, are the data, the “direct statements”:

1. In 1:15–17, Paul speaks of some who “preach Christ out of rivalry/selfish ambition and envy,” supposing thereby to “stir up trouble” for Paul “in my chains.” These people can be excluded from consideration of opposition in Philippi, since v. 14 makes it certain that we are dealing with people in the same city where Paul is imprisoned (Rome, in our view).27

2. In 1:27–28 Paul urges the Philippians not to “be frightened in any way by those who oppose you.” This is the one place in the letter where the language of “opposition” actually occurs. In this case the context implies: (a) that these opponents are not believers (they are destined for destruction), and (b) they are harassing the Philippians, and thus the cause of their “suffering for Christ’s sake” (vv. 29–30).

3. In 2:21 Paul sets Timothy in contrast to “all the others,” who, in the language of 2:4, “look out for their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ.” While it is less clear here to whom Paul refers—I have argued that this is a second swipe at the people mentioned in 1:15–17—it is clear they are not in Philippi, so at least they do not constitute “opponents” in that city.

Our difficulties, therefore, have to do with identifying the people referred to in the final two statements:

4. In 3:2–3 Paul warns: “Beware of the dogs; beware of the evil workers; beware of the ‘mutilation’ [of flesh].” “For,” he goes on, in contrast to them “we are the circumcision who worship/serve by the Spirit of God and boast in Christ Jesus, and place no confidence in flesh.” Both this description and the first part of his personal narrative that follows (vv. 4–9) indicate that Paul is once again referring to some Judaizers, people who try to bring Gentile believers in Christ under Jewish identity symbols, especially circumcision.28 But (a) unless they are to be recognized in 3:18–19 (a moot point indeed), there is not another direct mention of them nor allusion to them, and (b) there is no suggestion in the text that they are actually present in Philippi. This text is a warning against them, pure and simple; those who consider them present in Philippi either assume that or read it into the text.

5. Finally, in 3:18–19 Paul contrasts some who walk differently from him. Paul himself, desiring to be conformed to Christ’s death and with eyes firmly focused on his sure future, strains every nerve so as to reach the goal and attain the prize (3:10–14). These others, whom he has mentioned to the Philippians many times before and now mentions with tears, “live as enemies of the cross of Christ, whose end is destruction, whose god is their belly, whose glory is in their shame, and whose minds are set on earthly things.” Apart from their being enemies of the cross, not a word in this description faintly resembles what Paul says elsewhere about those who promote the circumcision of Gentile believers. Who these people are over whom Paul weeps cannot be known for certain, but again, even less so in this case, there is not a hint that they are actually present in Philippi as opponents of Paul and his gospel there.

What that leaves us with, then, is:

(1) one certain mention of opposition of a sort against Paul in Rome (1:15–17), and perhaps a second (2:21), but Paul can rejoice over their preaching Christ because even if they are doing so to increase Paul’s affliction, they are failing in that while succeeding in the former;

(2) one certain mention of opposition in Philippi (1:27–28), opponents who are outside the church and, in the context of vv. 29–30, almost certainly to be understood as the source of the Philippians’ present suffering; plus

(3) one fairly certain warning against Judaizers, whose presence in Philippi is neither expressed nor necessarily to be assumed; and

(4) one thoroughly ambiguous mention of people over whom Paul weeps because by their current way of “walking” they have opted out of life in Christ and have chosen to become his enemies.

with certainty, and since nothing further is said explicitly about their teaching, to “mirror read” other data in this letter as having to do with “opponents” in Philippi is a tenuous procedure at best.

On the other hand, by recognizing Philippians as a “letter of friendship,” and noting the frequently “agonistic” nature of friendship in the Greco-Roman world, one can recognize all of these passages as fitting into that context. As we will note momentarily, for Paul “friendship” has to do primarily with his and the Philippians’ “partnership/participation” together in the advance of the gospel, both in Philippi and elsewhere. But as we will also note (p. 33), the reason for the exhortations in this letter are related primarily to his concern over some “posturing” within the community which, if left unchecked, will surely impede the cause of the gospel. The warnings are most likely related to these latter concerns.

Thus Paul’s mention of “opponents” is not to be understood as anxiety on his part lest his Philippian friends capitulate to false teaching. In this regard Philippians stands in bold relief over against Galatians and 2 Corinthians 10–13. Rather, in exhorting them to stand firm in the one Spirit for the gospel in the face of opposition and suffering (1:27–2:18), and thus not to lose sight of their sure eschatological future (3:10–21), he appeals to their long-term friendship (see esp. 2:1) and places that in a context over against “enemies.” Paul has warned them about such people many times before (3:1, 18), people who turn out not to be so much his and their “enemies” as they are “enemies” of Christ himself (3:18).

The reality of friendship, and the formal characteristics of letters of friendship, therefore, account for much in this letter—both Paul’s affectionate language toward the Philippians and the strong language, sometimes full of pathos, about others who are “enemies” of the gospel. But friendship is only part of the story, the rest of which is found in another type of letter from the hellenistic world, the letter of exhortation.

4. Philippians as a Letter of Moral Exhortation. Another area in which first-century sociology differs considerably from ours is in the matter of ethics and morality. Deeply influenced as we are by the Law, the Prophets, the Gospels, and the Epistles, we find it difficult to dissociate “religion” from ethics. But such was not the case in the first century CE, where ethical instruction did not belong to Greco-Roman religion, but to philosophy.29 Moreover, moral instruction often took place in the context of friendship—of the second kind, where a “superior” instructed an “inferior,” often by means of letters. Although these letters lacked “form” as such, they had two “fundamental elements” that characterized them: (1) the writer was the recipient’s friend or moral superior;30 and (2) they aimed at “persuasion” or “dissuasion.”31 Because the persuasion or dissuasion was toward or away from certain “models” of behavior, the author frequently appealed to examples, including sometimes his own. Pseudo-Libanius’s brief “example” of such a letter thus reads: “Always be an emulator, dear friend, of virtuous men. For it is better to be well spoken of when imitating good men than to be reproached by all men while following evil men.”32

Philippians is also easily recognizable in this description. Indeed, the larger part of the letter is taken up with two considerable hortatory sections (1:27–2:18 and 3:1–4:3), in which the appeal is made on the basis of mutuality and friendship (2:1; cf. the “let us” in 3:15) and the aim is to “persuade” toward one kind of behavior and to “dissuade” from another. This becomes even more evident in Paul’s appeal throughout the letter to exemplary paradigms.

5. The Use of Exemplary Paradigms. Significantly, the heart of the two sections of “moral exhortation” is taken up with the best-known materials in the letter, the Christ story in 2:6–11 and Paul’s personal story in 3:4–14. In both cases he explicitly says that the narratives have been given to serve as “models” for the Philippians’ own “way of thinking” and of behavior appropriate to such a “mindset.” What is being “modeled” in each case is a “mindset” that is in keeping with the gospel: in the case of Christ he is the paradigm for the injunction of 2:3, “do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.” In the case of Paul, they are urged to follow his example, which has “knowing Christ” as its singular focus, both in the present by living a “cruciform” lifestyle in keeping with that of Christ while at the same time straining to obtain the prize, the final and complete knowing of Christ at the end.

Given these explicitly paradigmatic narratives, one is probably justified in reading the rest of the personal matters in the same way. Thus, even though the opening narrative about “Paul’s affairs” in 1:12–26 fits with a letter of friendship, there is every reason to believe that it is also intended to be paradigmatic.33 So also with the two important interlude narratives as to “what’s next” between him and them, namely the coming of Timothy shortly (2:19–24) and of Epaphroditus now (2:25–30, as bearer of this letter). Both men are well known to the Philippians, yet are “commended” to them precisely because both exemplify the gospel: Timothy is set in contrast to “non-friends” (= “enemies”) who look out for their own interests (over against the exhortation of 2:3–4); moreover, he is well known to them as one who “will take a genuine interest in your affairs” (v. 20), which is the same as “looking out for the interests of Christ” (v. 21; cf. 2:4). And Epaphroditus is one who in the Philippians’ service to Paul “risked his own life for the work of Christ” (v. 30). They are to “honor people like him.”

6. Philippians as a Christian “Hortatory Letter of Friendship.” In light of the foregoing, Philippians is rightly called “a hortatory letter of friendship.”34 The marks of the “letter of friendship” are everywhere.35 It is clearly intended to make up for their mutual absence, functioning as Paul’s way of being present while absent (see on 1:27; 2:12).36 Thus he informs them about “his affairs,” speaks into “their affairs,” and offers information about the movements of intermediaries. Evidence of mutual affection abounds; and the reciprocity of friendship is especially evident at the beginning and the end, and thus is probably to be seen in the other parts as well.37 At the same time, in the two sections in which he speaks into “their affairs” the letter functions as “moral exhortation,” which is tied very specifically to exemplary paradigms.

The twofold character of the letter is especially evident in the proemium, the introductory thanksgiving and prayer report (1:3–8, 9–11), which anticipate so much in the body of the letter. The thanksgiving is full of the matters of friendship: acknowledgment on Paul’s part of the Philippians’ partnership/participation in the gospel (v. 5), especially now in the context of Paul’s present imprisonment (v. 7); his thanksgiving and joy before God for them (vv. 3–4); his deep affection for them (vv. 7–8); his recognition that God has been at work in them and will complete that work at the day of Christ (v. 6). Likewise the prayer report, while predicated on the friendship expressed in the thanksgiving, anticipates the major concerns of the hortatory sections: that their love, which already marks their corporate life, will abound all the more (v. 9); and that their behavior be blameless in every way as they bear the fruit of righteousness (vv. 10–11). And both the thanksgiving and prayer report emphasize their sure future (vv. 6 and 10), anticipating both this motif as such and the exhortation to “stand fast” (1:27; 4:1) that frames the two hortatory sections.

But “hortatory letter of friendship” is only part of the story, and in many ways the least significant part at that. For in Paul’s hands everything turns into gospel, including both the formal and material aspects of such a letter. Most significantly, friendship in particular is radically transformed from a two-way to a three-way bond—between him, the Philippians, and Christ. And obviously it is Christ who is the center and focus of everything. Paul’s and their friendship is predicated on their mutual “participation/partnership” in the gospel. This involves them in most of the conventions of Greco-Roman friendship, including especially social reciprocity, but it does so in light of Christ and the gospel. This three way bond, which is the glue that holds the letter together from beginning to end, may best be illustrated with the following graphic:

Paul’s overarching concern is with the gospel, a word that occurs more often in this letter than in any of the others.38 His specific concern for the Philippians in this regard is with their ongoing relationship with Christ (Line C); all of the hortatory sections and much else has the strengthening of this relationship as their primary aim. Because of his and their long-time relationship in the gospel (Line B), evidenced again most recently by their gift to him (both of material substance and of the coming of Epaphroditus), Paul writes a letter of friendship that assumes the secure nature of that relationship. The reason for these exhortations is Point 3, their present historical situation, which occasions the letter (see below, pp. 29–34). The paradigm for these appeals is threefold (Christ himself, Point 1; Paul’s own imprisonment, Point 2; and Paul’s relationship with Christ, Line A). Everything in the letter can be explained in light of one of these items.

The present commentary is thus written from the perspective that in terms of “form,” Philippians is a “hortatory letter of friendship,” with the conviction that this gives insight into a large number of its special features. But above all Philippians is an especially Pauline, and therefore intensely Christian, expression of that letter form, so that in his hands form does not come first, Christ and the gospel do, first and always. Thus the letter reflects known first-century conventions; but the conventions themselves are mere scaffolding for Paul. He is altogether concerned for his friends in Philippi and their ongoing relationship to Christ.

B. Other Literary Matters

Not all, to be sure, have viewed the letter in this way; therefore, some further literary matters need to be noted. Some of these are in support of the foregoing analysis; some are by way of contrast with other ways in which the letter has been read. Here also is the place to say a few words about the transmission of the letter in the history of the church.

1. The Questions of Rhetoric and Orality. Since the appearance of H. D. Betz’s commentary on Galatians (1979), in which he analyzed that letter in the light of the theoretical discussions of Greco-Roman rhetoric, and G. Kennedy’s New Testament Interpretation Through Rhetorical Criticism (1984), the analysis of the NT letters as documents patterned on ancient rhetoric39 has burgeoned apace,40 so that every letter in the Pauline corpus has now been analyzed through these lenses. Philippians, the one letter that on the surface would seem to resist such an assessment, has been analyzed rhetorically twice,41 neither of which, despite several helpful insights, carries much conviction as to the overall scheme of our letter.42 The reason for this is simple: both analyses have seized on the hortatory dimension of the letter as “the rhetorical situation” which Paul is addressing, while failing to recognize the more significant dimension of friendship.43

This is not to deny the presence of rhetorical features within the letter. Rhetorical analyses may prove helpful in showing how the hortatory parts of the letter work, that is, in demonstrating how Paul aims to persuade. But more important are several other rhetorical devices that seem intended to catch the attention of, and thus to carry conviction with, the hearer of the letter. Many of these (assonance, asyndeton, chiasmus, repetition, word plays) are pointed out throughout the course of the commentary.44

What is most important about these rhetorical features is related to another reality, seldom noted in discussing Paul’s letters,45 namely that the first century CE was primarily an oral (and thus aural) culture—which would have been especially true for the majority to whom this letter was addressed. All of Paul’s letters, and Philippians in particular, were first of all oral—dictated to be read aloud in the community.46 Much of Paul’s rhetoric comes into play precisely at this point. His use of assonance and word plays, for example, are “designed”47 to be memorable, precisely because oral cultures had a very high level of retention. In literary cultures we are bombarded by so many words in print that very few, if any, are kept in memory in a precise way.

Most significantly for our present purposes, these features, rhetoric and orality, best explain an aspect of the letter that has been greatly puzzling for moderns—why Paul left his “thanksgiving” for the gift to the very end. For most of us such delay borders on rudeness, if not impropriety, and for scholars it has been the source of considerable speculation. But rhetoric and orality best account for it (see the introduction to 4:10–20); these are intentionally the last words left ringing in their ears as the letter concludes, words of gratitude, theology, and doxology that simply soar.48 Which in turn explains the extreme brevity (for Paul) of the final greetings (vv. 21–22) as well.

2. The Use of the Old Testament. Those who consider Philippians 3 to be a three-way conversation between Paul, the Philippians, and some opponents, tend also to read Philippians as “polemical” at this point. But another striking feature of Philippians, Paul’s unusual (for him) use of the OT, suggests otherwise, and again fits squarely within a “hortatory letter of friendship.”

In this regard, two things stand out. First, whenever Paul is carrying on an “argument” with his churches, and especially so when some form of “Judaizing” persuasion is afoot (as in 2 Corinthians, Galatians, and Romans), he invariably argues from the OT, as a way of supporting his understanding of the gospel. Sometimes it is enough simply to say, “it is written”; at other times he feels compelled to explicate the meaning of what stands written in light of the event of Christ and the Spirit. All such form of argumentation is noticeably missing from Philippians, and nowhere more so than in chapter 3, where in warning against such a Judaizing perspective Paul instead offers himself as an example of one who had been there but had given it all up for Christ.

In this letter, second, Paul’s use of the OT is of an altogether different kind, one which occurs throughout his letters but is used exclusively here. It is what social scientists call “intertextuality,” which by definition means “the conscious embedding of fragments from an earlier text into a later one.”49 Such “intertextuality” assumes (a) that the readers/hearers will know the former text intimately, both its language and very often its setting, and (b) that they will hear those echoes used in a new, or newly applied, way in the present setting. Thus, while one might expect the Philippians to hear Paul’s (conscious or unconscious) use of OT language in many places (1:11; 3:1; 4:5), intertextuality seems especially to occur at several key points in the letter (1:19; 2:10–11; 2:14–16; 2:17[4:18], q.v.). This kind of appeal, especially in 2:14–16 where he presupposes the Philippians’ place in the story of Israel, is not the stuff of polemics but of mutuality, thus of friendship. He never “argues” from the OT on the basis that “it is written,” because he assumes that he and they are on common ground with regard to their understanding of the gospel. His concern here is with some practical implications of that common understanding.

We should further point out that such a use of the OT presupposes (a) that as in all the Pauline churches these early Gentile believers were thoroughly acquainted with their Bibles,50 (b) that they would recognize this application of the OT texts to Paul’s and their situation, and (c) that they would do so because of the basically oral nature of the culture, in which the constant hearing of the same “stories” would reinforce them deeply into their memories. To put it bluntly, we may rightly assume that these early Gentile believers knew the OT infinitely better than most Christians do today.

3. The Matter of Vocabulary. Because Philippians is a comparatively short letter,51 one should probably not make too much of its distinctive vocabulary. Nevertheless, an analysis of the words Paul uses in this letter offers further corroboration of our seeing Philippians as a Christian hortatory letter of friendship. Four kinds of vocabulary interest us: hapax legomena (words that occur only here in the NT), Pauline hapaxes (words that occur only here in the Pauline corpus), the “special vocabulary” of Philippians (words that occur in this letter more frequently than in others), and Paul’s use of his distinctively Christian vocabulary in this letter.

There are 1633 words in Philippians,52 with a vocabulary of 438 words, of which 42 are New Testament hapax legomena53 and 34 are Pauline hapaxes.54 Our interest in these figures is not in their number,55 but in their nature—in two ways. First, several of the hapax legomena belong to the historical context of Philippi’s being a Roman colony; thus the singular mention of the “Praetorian Guard” (1:13), of “Caesar’s household” (4:22), and especially the metaphorical play on “citizenship” in 1:27 and 3:20 all reflect Paul’s conscious awareness of the “Roman” provenance of both his and their situations.

Second, and especially noteworthy, is the high concentration of “friendship” language in this letter, much of which is found in these hapaxes. Thus the singular mention of his “absence” (2:12), of his calling them his “longed for ones” (4:1), the concern for their “safety” (3:1), his desire that they “cheer” him (2:19), the specialized language of reciprocity (“giving and receiving” and “accounts”) in 4:15, the high concentration of “syn” compounds (= they together with him) including “participating together with him in his affliction” in 4:14, all belong to this category. So also does the high concentration of “my affairs/your affairs” language (1:12, 27; 2:19, 20, 23), which occurs elsewhere only in Col 4:8 and Eph 6:21–22. Even the naming of names in 4:3 is an indication of friendship, as we point out in the discussion of that passage. Likewise the special language used to describe their mutual friend Timothy in 2:20–21 (of “like-soul” with me, who is “genuinely” concerned about you) and even more so of Epaphroditus, one of their own whose presence has made up in part for this “lack” of them (2:30), who “risked his life” for the sake of the gospel and should be “honored” in return.

But what is most noticeable in this letter is the general paucity of Paul’s more specialized theological vocabulary and the infrequency of the explanatory “for,”58 which is always a dead giveaway that Paul is involved in heavy argumentation. Thus, there is not a single occurrence of one of the verbs for “salvation” in the letter.59 Such words as “believe,” “faith,” and “grace” appear but rarely. Even though there is a considerable concern about the Philippians’ focus on their sure future, the theological language of “hope” does not occur. If this were the only Pauline letter to have survived, it would be well-nigh impossible to reconstruct his theology adequately; nor would we have any sense at all that Paul’s apostleship counted for something! In the one specific moment of theological concentration in the letter, 3:3–14, it comes by way of personal example that they are to emulate rather than by argumentation as such. It is not that the letter is not theological; it is quite impossible for Paul to say anything without presupposing or explicating his theology. But the letter lacks theological argumentation as such (with the possible exception of 3:9). Thus the singular most frequent word group in the letter is “joy,” which comes as often by way of imperative—and thus full of theological import—as of experience. And the concern here is with Christian experience, how to live in the face of suffering, not with correct “doctrine,” as it were.

4. The Question of Integrity. As with several others of the Pauline letters, many scholars find Philippians impossible to understand in its present form and have thus dismembered the letter into three (sometimes two) letters.60 In this case, it is argued that all three of the letters are from Paul, that all were written to Philippi within a relatively short span of time, and that a generally unthinking redactor put them together to create our Philippians. The reasons for this view are basically three: (1) In 3:1 Paul says to loipon (= “finally” or “as for the rest”), as though he were about to conclude the letter, which does not happen, so that the “finally” is picked up again in 4:8. Similarly the command to “rejoice in the Lord” in 3:1 is “started again” in 4:4. (2) The suddenly strong attack of some (apparent) Judaizers in 3:2 does not seem easily to fit with the apparently “concluding” words of 3:1, “Finally, rejoice in the Lord.” Chapter 3 is therefore seen to be a “fragment” of a different letter from chapters 1–2. (3) Since some papyrus letters begin with the language “I rejoiced greatly” (usually over receipt of a letter), and since it is regarded unthinkable that Paul should wait until the very end to thank them for their gift, it is argued that 4:10–20, which begins “I rejoiced greatly,” should also be seen as a separate note of thanks. Thus three letters are hypothesized: Letter A (4:10–20), written first as a quick note of thanks immediately upon receipt of their gift; Letter B (3:1b-to some point in chap. 4), an “interpolated fragment” from a basically polemical letter, whose date and provenance cannot be determined; Letter C (1:1–3:1a, perhaps some part of 4:1–9, and 4:21–23), the letter sent back with Epaphroditus on his return home.

These points are responded to in some detail in the commentary itself. Here we need simply to note the considerable weaknesses of this point of view, which finally creates more problems than it solves.

(1) Despite the mask of some allegedly “objective criteria,” the reason for this dismemberment of our letter is primarily subjective—and boils down to a single issue: The “argument” of Philippians is not as tidy as we could wish it to be; and since we would not produce a letter like this, then in all likelihood neither did Paul.

(2) That few can agree on the extent of letter B in itself indicates how problematic this point of view is. The reasons for this lack of agreement are the very ones that have led to the theory in the first place: one still does not know what to do with the repeated to loipon in 4:8 and “rejoice in the Lord” in 4:4. What is never explained is how this repetition, which is alleged to make little sense if Paul did it, can somehow now be “logically” explained if it is the product of someone else.

(3) The real difficulties with this view are historical, and go in two directions. First, there are no known analogies for this kind of “scissors-and-pasting” together of someone’s letters.61 The only analogies offered turn out to be examples of circular reasoning. Similar “reconstructions” of other Pauline letters are brought forward as “proof”; but when the “proof” itself needs proving, one’s methodology becomes suspect. The one letter from antiquity that has the best possibility to serve as a historical analogy is our 2 Corinthians (1–9 and 10–13),62 but in this case we are dealing merely with attaching two letters together in their assumed chronological order,63 not with an intricate, unchronological, and—to most people’s view—whimsical weaving together of three letters.

Second, this latter item is what makes this view basically unhistorical, for the common assumption is that someone with these three letters in hand, “pasted” or “tied” them together in this way. But in this case that is a historical impossibility. The only way someone could have created our Philippians out of parts of three different letters would have been to have copied the whole in this fashion. If one has difficulty with Paul’s having created the apparently unmanageable “seams” in our letter, how is it easier to imagine a scribe-turned-redactor to have done so?64 Why did he leave the “Finally, rejoice in the Lord” at 3:1? Or why did he not eliminate them in 4:4 and 8? And why 3:2–21 at this point in the compilation of letters? On the contrary, we have in fact abundant evidence that scribes, when they were not making mindless and therefore easily detectable errors, copied their manuscripts so as to make them easier to read and understand. But to push what is “unmanageable” from our point of view back one remove from Paul, so as to make him a “tidier writer” than we should necessarily believe he was, is to create a historical difficulty of another kind; thus it “solves” nothing.

(4) The ultimate reason for rejecting this hypothesis65 is that the various parts of our current letter hold together so well as one piece. We begin by noting that the Pauline thanksgivings regularly anticipate many, if not most, of the items in the letter itself. In this case both the language and content of 1:3–11 anticipate matters from all three of the alleged letters. Thus the language of “partnership” in the gospel in vv. 4–5 anticipates 4:10–20; the language of “loving one another still more” anticipates the exhortation of 1:27–2:18, and the mention of their sharing in his “bonds” for the defense of the gospel leads directly to 1:12–18; the language of “longing for them” in 1:7 anticipates the vocative of 4:1, while the “fruit of righteousness” of v. 11 and the eschatological urgency of vv. 6 and 10 point directly to 3:4–14. Did the “redactor” rewrite the obviously Pauline thanksgiving in order to make this work?

In the same vein the two major hortatory sections of the letter, despite addressing different specific issues, are held together by (a) several linguistic phenomena (especially the use of “have the same mindset”) as well as (b) by the two paradigmatic narratives—Christ’s and Paul’s—whose main thrust is to urge a cruciform way of looking at and living out their present existence in the midst of opposition and suffering.66 Was the alleged redactor himself responsible for this insight, and if he was this clever, why then did he bungle the “stitching” job so badly? And is this “bungler” also responsible for the most ingenious rhetorical stroke of all, of putting the “first letter” last, so that its powerful theological rhetoric at the end (4:18–20) are basically the last words in the letter?

The answer to these rhetorical questions, of course, is the obvious one: The person who both “bungled” the seams and arranged things so ingeniously is the apostle himself. It remains only to show that the present arrangement in fact “works” perfectly well when viewed as a “hortatory letter of friendship,” which we will attempt to do at the end of the next major section (part II).

5. The Question of Text. Although unrelated to the foregoing questions, this seems to be the proper place to say a few words about the Greek text of the letter, which has to do with how Paul’s words in this letter were transmitted to us. Basically two matters need to be noted. First, as with all the letters of Paul, we have no textual evidence for any of them before they were brought together as a corpus. Thus when dealing with the textual evidence for Philippians, we are basically dealing with the evidence for the transmission of the corpus as a whole, which, as best we can tell, was brought together sometime in the late first/early second century. This means that errors that made their way into the text before that can only be detected by “conjectural emendation.” There seems to be no good reason to resort to such emendation at any point in our letter, since one can usually make sense of the text that has come down to us—despite an occasional (apparently) grammatical faux pas.

Second, I have included rather full textual notes throughout the commentary. I note here the four differences from the text in the NA²⁶ (the basic Greek text behind the NIV), none of which is critical to the sense of the passage:

1:6	“Jesus Christ” for “Christ Jesus”
1:23	remove the brackets around the “for”
2:4	read the plural in each occurrence of “each”
3:7	omit “but”

The NA²⁶, however, is to be preferred at the one place where the NIV differs from it (in omitting “of God” in 1:14).

Finally, the secure nature of the text of this letter is further demonstrated by the following short list of the translationally significant textual differences between the NA²⁶ and the Textus Receptus (which lies behind the KJV):

1:6	noted above
1:16–17	transposition of the two sentences (see n. 1 on 1:15–18)
1:17 (KJV 16)	“raise up” instead of “add”
1:28	“your” instead of “to you”
2:5	“have this mindset” instead of “let this mind”
2:9	“the name” instead of “a name”
2:30	“not risking his life” instead of “not regarding his life”
3:21	omit “that it may be”
4:13	“through him who strengthens me” instead of “through Christ”
4:23	“with your spirits” instead of “with you all”

In this letter, therefore, it is safe to conclude that the text we have is basically that which came from the apostle, and that early scribes apparently had less reason to alter it than in many other parts of the New Testament.

II. THE OCCASION OF PHILIPPIANS

Given that Philippians is a (very Christian) “hortatory letter of friendship,” the question remains, why this letter, to this people, as this time? Thus we turn to the historical situation to which the apostle was writing—an exercise beset with its share of pitfalls, since it also requires a degree of “mirror reading” (see n. 24). Even though we know much about ancient Philippi, some things about its character in the (presumably) seventh decade of the first century CE are more speculative; and the actual situation in the church in Philippi must be picked up from one end of a two-way conversation. In each of the following sections, therefore, we begin with what seems more certain before offering some “best guesses” as to the interpretation of the available data.

A. The City and Its People 67

Philippi was located at the far eastern end of a large fertile plain (Datos) in central Macedonia; it sat astraddle the Egnatian Way, nestled on the edge of the plain at the initial ascent up a considerable acropolis, 16 kilometers inland and across a low range of coastal mountains from the seaport of Neapolis (modern Kaválla). Originally founded as Krenides by some Greek colonists from the island of Thasos (ca. 360 BCE), it was taken over and renamed after himself by Philip of Macedon (father of Alexander the Great) in 356. Its reason for existence and for Philip’s taking it over are related to its strategic location:68 it sat as sentinel to the large agricultural plain of Datos; it was well-protected by its acropolis; and, most importantly to Philip, it was nearby to Mount Pangaion on the northern side of the plain, which at that period was rich in mineral deposits, including gold.

Philippi (and all Macedonia) came under control of the Romans in 168, who abolished the ancient Macedonian dynasty and eventually created a Roman province, divided into four parts. According to Luke, Philippi was “the leading city of that district of Macedonia” (Acts 16:11).69

Our interest in the history of the city stems particularly from 42 BCE, in which year two major battles were fought nearby in the plain—between Cassius and Brutus (the assassins of Julius Caesar) and the victors, Octavian (later the emperor Augustus) and Mark Antony. Following these victories Octavian honored Philippi by “refounding” it as a Roman military colony,70 thus endowing its populace with Roman citizenship. Always astute politically, Octavian populated the town and its surrounding agricultural area with discharged veterans from the war. This both alleviated a population problem in Rome and ensured allegiance to the Empire (through its emperor) at this strategic spot along the major highway across Macedonia and northern Greece which connected Rome with Asia Minor and other points east. In an even more astute move Octavian did the same once again after he defeated Antony in the battle of nearby Actium in 30 BCE, this time with veterans from Antony’s army, thus creating loyalty from those who had once fought with him and more recently against him. Although these events happened some ninety-plus years before the writing of our letter, they have a considerable effect on several key matters in Philippians.

By the time Paul came to the city in 49 CE (Acts 16:11–15), Philippi was the urban political center of the eastern end of the plain. Its population was both Roman and Greek; and although Latin was the official language, Greek was the predominant language of commerce and everyday life—all the more so in a city located in Greece.

Of the four people from the early Christian community whose names we know, three bear Greek names (Lydia, Euodia, Syntyche) and the other Roman (Clement). We know very little otherwise about the socio-economic makeup of the congregation itself. Lydia, a merchant from Thyatira, bears the name of her home province. That she had a household large enough to include Paul and his companions suggests she owned a villa; at least some of the women who were gathered with her at the river for worship, perhaps including Euodia and Syntyche, were very likely members of her household. The jailer, on the other hand, who also had a household, probably belonged to the artisan class; whereas the young girl from whom Paul had cast the divining spirit belonged to the slave class that often made up a large part of early Christian congregations (as members of Christian households or, as in her case, on their own). What this suggests is that the socio-economic range is similar to what one finds in churches in other urban centers. Finally, the fact that three of the people whose names are known to us are women is probably not accidental, since there is good evidence that in Greek Macedonia women had long had a much more significant role in public life than in most other areas in Greco-Roman antiquity.71

B. The Situation of the Church

The specific historical context of the church to which Paul wrote our letter stems from a combination of three factors: its own history, its location in Philippi, and its long-term relationship with Paul in terms of Greco-Roman friendship.

1. Their History. The history of the founding of this church sometime during 49 CE, recorded in Acts 16:11–40, is well known. Although this report and chronology have been called into question from time to time,72 there are no good historical reasons for doubting the picture that Luke presents.73 According to his report its nucleus was formed by a group of “God-fearing” women, who, because of the lack of a Jewish synagogue in the city, met by the river on the Sabbath for “prayer.” Given the prominent place of women in Macedonian life in general, it is not surprising that the core group of first converts were women, nor that the location of its first house church was in the home of a woman merchant. That Paul and his entourage also accepted patronage from Lydia, including becoming temporary members of her household, also plays a considerable role in some of the matters in our letter (see on 4:14–17).74

We cannot be sure from any of our sources how long Paul and his companions (Silas, Timothy, and Luke75) stayed in Philippi. But whatever its length, it was long enough to establish a close friendship between the apostle and this community of believers, undoubtedly aided by Luke’s staying on in Philippi after Paul, Silas, and Timothy had departed for Thessalonica (see on 4:3). The evidence for the kind of nearly “contractual” friendship outlined above (pp. 4–6) is to be found in particular in Paul’s statement in 4:15 that “no other church entered into partnership with me in the matter of ‘giving and receiving’ except for you alone.” Social reciprocity is the primary “stuff” of Greco-Roman friendship.

The eventual departure of Paul, Silas, and Timothy was the direct result of the affair of casting out the divining spirit from a young slave girl, which was followed by imprisonment (in which Paul and Silas sang joyful songs of praise during the night), an earthquake, the conversion of the jailer, and the anxiety of the town officials when they realized they had both beaten and imprisoned an uncondemned Roman citizen.

Paul’s relationship with this community thereafter is sketchy. On the basis of statements in 1 and 2 Corinthians he apparently paid at least two visits to Philippi not recorded in Acts. In 1 Cor 16:5, his intent had been to go through Macedonia—from Corinth on to Jerusalem. But according to 2 Cor 1:16, those plans had changed and he showed up (apparently unexpectedly) in Corinth, with a new itinerary (Corinth-Macedonia-Corinth). But everything erupted in Corinth, so Paul (apparently) went on to Macedonia, and then decided to write to Corinth instead of returning. Later (2 Cor 2:13/7:5) he came again into Macedonia, where he met Titus, and dispatched him and two other brothers (Luke? 8:18 “the brother who is praised by all the churches for his service in the gospel”), along with our 2 Corinthians, which he wrote from there. According to Acts, because of a plot against him, he paid yet another visit to the city (20:3) on his way to Jerusalem with the collection.76

Paul’s deep affection for this congregation, evident throughout this letter, is also evidenced in his extravagant testimony about them in 2 Cor 8:1–5:

And now, brothers and sisters, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. Out of the most severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the saints. And they did not do as we expected, but they gave themselves first to the Lord and then to us in keeping with God’s will.

Significant for our purposes is not only the affection on display here—further evidence of friendship—but the equation of “joy” + “poverty” = “generosity.” These, too, have bearing on our letter.

The occasion of our letter is to be found both in the elements of friendship (the return of Epaphroditus; Paul’s reporting on his “affairs”; his acknowledgment of their gift) and in its “hortatory” sections, assuming that the latter are as case-specific to the situation in Philippi as are the former. There is general agreement that at least two matters coalesce in some way as the driving force behind the exhortations: (1) suffering because of current opposition in Philippi, and (2) internal unrest of some sort.77 Both of these appear together in the initial imperative (1:27–28): “that you stand firm in the one Spirit, striving together as one person for the faith of the gospel, without being frightened in any way by those who oppose you,” which is followed by a clause explaining their suffering (vv. 29–30) and by an appeal to have the same “mindset” (2:1–2). Significantly, Paul uses these same verbs (“stand firm,” “have the same mindset”) in the appeals that conclude the second hortatory section (4:1–3). Thus these two concerns “frame” the two hortatory sections in the letter, and do so with identical language.78 But the precise nature of these two matters, how they interrelate, and how much the matter of “opposition” noted earlier comes into play, are less certain.

2. Opposition and Suffering. That the Philippian congregation is undergoing suffering as the result of opposition in Philippi is explicitly stated in 1:27–30 and metaphorically so in 2:17. Once this is recognized, it is then easy also to recognize this reality as underlying a variety of other moments in the letter—although to go so far as Lohmeyer and to see the entire epistle as having to do with martyrdom takes this theme far beyond the realities of the text itself.79 We begin with the two basic texts.

In the initial—and probably primary—imperative in the letter (1:27–30), Paul urges the Philippian believers to “stand fast” in the one Spirit, as they “contend together” for the gospel, and thus “not be intimidated in any way by those who oppose you.” That this opposition has led to suffering is clear from the final clause (vv. 29–30), which offers theological reasons for it. Paul reminds them that their suffering “on behalf of Christ” has been “graciously given” to them, and that it is precisely of a kind with Paul’s (“you are going through the same struggle”). He then returns to this motif in a metaphorical way at the end of the first hortatory section (2:17–18), where he pictures his suffering as the “drink offering” poured out in conjunction with their “sacrificial offering and priestly service,” resulting from their faith.

While suffering is not the dominant motif in Philippians, it constitutes the church’s primary historical context in Philippi and thus underlies much of the letter. Two items are noteworthy. First, this context helps to explain Paul’s emphasis on his imprisonment and suffering in the thanksgiving (vv. 3–8) and in the narrative about his affairs (vv. 12–26). Part of his reason for thanksgiving is for their “joint-partnership” with him “in my chains, for both the defense and confirmation of the gospel,” which he terms “this grace” (v. 7). Both parts of the narrative about “my affairs” that immediately follows (vv. 12–18a, 18b-26) seem intended to illustrate “how I am responding,” first, to his suffering at the hands of the Empire, and second, to the selfish ambition/rivalry of other believers who are trying to cause him grief in the midst of it. Thus the narrative, which functions as a typical (expanded) expression of friendship, also functions as an exemplary paradigm (= this is how you, too, should respond in your own suffering at the hands of “Rome” in Philippi).

Second, opposition and suffering probably lie behind a further—seldom noted—major motif in the letter: Paul’s repeated emphasis on the believer’s sure future with its eschatological triumph. This motif begins in the thanksgiving and prayer report (vv. 6 and 10); it dominates the second part of his report on “my affairs” (1:21–24); it serves as the glorious climax (vv. 9–11) to the Christ story in 2:6–11; it is the penultimate word in the appeal that follows (v. 16); it holds the dominant place in his own story in 3:4–14, as the climax of both the story itself (vv. 12–14) and of the appeal that follows (vv. 20–21; 4:1), which is explicitly paradigmatic at this very point; it serves as the singular affirmation (4:5) to the concluding imperatives (4:4–9); and it is integral to the final words of theology and doxology in the letter (4:19–20).

The tie of this eschatological motif to opposition and suffering is especially to be seen in Paul’s personal story and its application in 3:4–4:1. Here Paul yearns to know Christ, both the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings (vv. 10–11), the former being necessary for the latter and the latter explained further as “being conformed to Christ’s death” (cf. 2:6–8). In the appeal that immediately follows the Philippians are urged to “imitate” Paul’s “mindset” (vv. 15, 17), who, while “being conformed to Christ’s death,” vigorously pursues the ultimate eschatological prize of “knowing Christ” finally and completely (vv. 13–14), which is explicated at the end in terms of receiving a “glorified body” like Christ’s (vv. 20–21).

The source and reason for this suffering are less clear. The clue lies with the first explicit mention of it in 1:29–30. They are suffering, Paul says, because they are involved in “the same struggle as I am now in.” If we take this seriously—and literally—then the reason for the preceding “reflections on imprisonment” (1:12–26) also takes shape. Paul’s suffering is both “for the defense of the gospel” and at the hands of the Empire. The Philippian believers are opposed by a “crooked and depraved generation” (2:15), who are “destined for destruction” (1:28). These passages can only refer to the pagan populace of Philippi, who happen also to be citizens of Rome. Thus they are the source of the suffering.80

That the opposition, and thus their suffering, is a direct result of the Roman character of their city is further indicated by the twin play on the Philippian believers’ “dual citizenship” in 1:27 and 3:20. Although themselves Roman citizens, they also constitute a “colony of heaven” in this colony of Rome in Macedonia. Since their true “citizenship” is in heaven (3:20), they are to “live their heavenly citizenship in Philippi in a manner worthy of Christ” (1:27). The pro-Empire character of Philippi also explains another phenomenon in the letter: the unusually high incidence of references to Christ, especially the emphasis on Christ’s having obtained sole privilege to the title Kyrios (“Lord”; 2:9–11)—at whose name every knee shall someday bow—and the unique appellation of Christ as Sōtēr (“Savior”; 3:20), all the more noteworthy in light of the Romans’ utter disdain for crucifixion (see on 2:8).

With this we come to the most probable cause of the suffering.81 Philippi owed its existence as a Roman colony to the special grace of the first Roman emperor, thus ensuring that the city would always have special devotion for the emperor. By the time of our letter, the primary titles for the emperor were Kyrios and Sōtēr (“lord and savior”). Not only so, but the cult of the emperor, where the emperor was honored in a way approaching deification, had found its most fertile soil in the Eastern provinces. In a city like Philippi this would have meant that every public event (the assembly, public performances in the theater, etc.) and much else within its boundaries would have taken place in the context of giving honor to the emperor, with the acknowledgment that (in this case) Nero was “lord and savior.” Which is precisely the place where believers in Christ could no longer join in as “citizens of Rome in Philippi.” Their allegiance was to another Kyrios, Jesus Christ, before whom every knee would someday bow and every tongue confess, including the citizens of Philippi who are causing their suffering, as well as the emperor himself. The Philippian believers in Christ were thus “citizens” of a greater “dominion” and their allegiance was to another Sōtēr, whose coming from heaven they awaited with eager expectation. If this were not enough to make the citizens of Philippi begin a methodical persecution of these (now) expatriates living among them, the fact that the Christian’s “lord and savior” had taken the form of a “slave” in his becoming human, and in that humanity died on a cross (2:6–8), would have been the final straw. But to this one, Paul says, whom the Philippian pagans scorn, God has given the name above all names, the name of the Lord (kyrios) God himself.

Although one cannot be sure of all the details of this picture, there is good reason to believe that it reflects the heart of things regarding the historical context of our letter. As will be pointed out throughout the commentary, such a reconstruction, based on the data and emphases of the letter itself, explains much. It is in this light that the Philippians would hear Paul’s triumphant note about the whole Praetorian Guard—the emperor’s own select troops—coming to know about the gospel through Paul’s imprisonment. So also with the final word of the letter (before the concluding grace-benediction), “all the saints (in Rome) greet you, especially those who belong to Caesar’s household”—who themselves join you in saying “Jesus is Lord.” The gospel, with its proclamation of a heavenly Lord who had become the incarnate Savior, had penetrated the household of the (merely earthly) Roman “lord and savior,” who stands ultimately behind “the same struggle” both Paul and the Philippians are currently experiencing. And this, just a couple of short years before the “struggle” breaks out with vengeance in Rome itself, with Nero’s pogrom against believers in Christ.

3. Internal Unrest. While opposition and suffering at the hands of the Roman citizens of Philippi serves as the “historical context,” thus the crucible of the letter, Paul’s ultimate concern in its hortatory sections is over some internal “posturing” going on. The Philippians are in a life-and-death struggle for the gospel in Philippi, and if their present unrest goes uncorrected, it could bid fair to blunt, if not destroy, their witness to Christ in their city. There can be little question that this issue lies behind the major moments in the letter. It is the first item mentioned in the opening imperative (1:27), to which he returns in 2:1–4 after the momentary focus on their suffering. It explicitly lies behind both the Christ story in 2:6–11 and its application in 2:12–16. It seems also to lie behind the description of Timothy in 2:20–22 and parts of Paul’s story in 3:4–14, as well as the concluding imperative in 4:2–3, where Euodia and Syntyche are singled out by means of the identical imperative as in 2:2.

But the exact nature of the problem, and how far-reaching it is, is much more speculative; and here the pronouncements of scholarship regularly go beyond the actual data themselves. The language “strife” and “division,” which occur together in 1 Cor 1:11 but are noticeably missing in Philippians, are nonetheless the stock-in-trade of the secondary literature. But the use of such terms for the Philippian situation not only outstrips the evidence, it noticeably contradicts the dimension of friendship and the expressions of affection that permeate the letter. Even the naming of Euodia and Syntyche is evidence that the problem, though real, has not yet assumed significant proportions, since one of the signs of “enmity” in antiquity was to let the “enemy” remain nameless—as Paul does in all his earlier letters. But these women are named because they are his friends, not enemies (see on 4:2).

On the basis of what Paul says and how he speaks to this matter, three things seem fairly certain. First, what lies behind the unrest is some form of “selfish ambition”—or “posturing,” as I prefer to call it. When appealing to the community to have the “same mindset” so as to complete Paul’s joy (2:2), he singles out “selfish ambition/rivalry” and “empty glory” as the attitudes that must be rejected (v. 3). In their place he calls for “humility,” which evidences itself by each one “looking out for the interests of the others” (v. 4). It is scarcely accidental (a) that “selfish ambition/rivalry” is used of the attitudes prompting those in Rome who are trying to make life miserable for Paul in his imprisonment (1:17), or (b) that “looking out for the concerns” of the Philippians, over against those who care only for their own interests, is the way Paul describes Timothy to the Philippians, who know Timothy well (2:20–21). The Christ narrative thus speaks directly to this matter, since as God he “emptied himself” (over against doing anything on the basis of selfish ambition) and as man he “humbled himself” (over against doing anything on the basis of vain glory).

But, second, these attitudes have not yet led to “division” or “strife,”82 the language Paul uses in 1 Cor 1:10–12, which there he goes on to describe in clear terms of “disunity.” The closest thing to such language in our letter is “grumbling and murmuring” (2:14, “complaining and arguing,” NIV). Such language is a far cry from “division.” But if unchecked, it is the stuff that leads to division, which is precisely why Paul feels compelled to speak to it, and to send Timothy to look into it (2:19–20), before he himself comes (2:23–24).

Third, this is probably the place where the warning against “enemies” in chapter 3 fits in. While there is no evidence for the actual presence of outsiders who are “stirring up the pot” in Philippi, the unrest in the church has very likely taken the form of one or some of them being open to listen to foreign matter. What might lie behind their readiness to do so is most likely related to the issue of suffering. The apparent security of “being Jewish” (the matrix out of which some of them originated as God-fearers) while also being in Christ may have begun to look better to them now, since Judaism was a “legitimate religion” in the Empire, exempted from persecution. But people who think so are “enemies,” Paul reminds the Philippians with the stern warning of 3:2–3. He himself had been there, and there is no future to the past. The future lies strictly with Christ; hence Paul’s weeping over others, who have become enemies of the cross of Christ by setting their minds strictly on earthly things (3:18–19).

While one may not have certainty about these “best guesses,” they reflect an attempt to tie the various items of the letter together as a whole. In any case, the situation in Philippi is serious, but not disastrous. And since these people are his friends, having recently renewed the evidence of their friendship by a gift to minister to the apostle’s needs in prison, and since his imprisonment forbids his current presence with them, he does what friends always did in such situations, he wrote a “hortatory letter of friendship” to serve as his “presence” in his “absence” (2:12).

C. The Situation of Paul

At the time of his writing Philippians Paul is clearly in detainment, which he describes no less than four times as “being in chains” (1:7, 13, 14, 17). The questions of “where” and “when” have been assumed throughout the Introduction (and the commentary) to refer to his Roman imprisonment in the early 60s CE (between 60 and 62); but since many reject this tradition (in favor of either Caesarea or Ephesus), a few words are needed regarding this matter.83

The internal evidence of the letter specifically favors the tradition, especially the mention in 1:13 (q.v.) that “it has become evident to the whole Praetorian Guard that I am in chains because of Christ,” and the final greeting in 4:22 from “the saints especially of Caesar’s household.” Against many who protest to the contrary, the natural reading of these texts implies a Roman provenance to the letter, in both cases.84

First, the mention of the whole praetorium is such that it seems intended to elicit delight and wonder from the Philippians. Although the word praetorium can refer to a “governor’s palace” in the provinces (as in Mark 15:16 and Acts 23:35), the word more naturally refers the Praetorian Guard, the emperor’s own elite troops stationed in Rome (see on 1:13).85 Those who favor an Ephesian imprisonment can only hypothesize the presence of the guard in Ephesus, since (a) there is no evidence to support it86 and (b) there was no praetorium in Ephesus.87 Likewise, although the word could refer to the governor’s palace in Caesarea, there would be little cause for wonder to mention that the “whole praetorium” in Caesarea had come to learn that his imprisonment was for Christ. Paul’s sentence implies that this “became evident” to a large number of people over a period of time and through his direct involvement, whereas in Caesarea 88 the number of people involved would be relatively small; and in any case, his arrival on horseback under the protective care of seventy cavalry, followed by a very quick hearing, would have been a major “event” in the praetorium in Caesarea and scarcely what Paul is referring to in 1:13.

Likewise, second, regarding the mention in 4:22 of “members of Caesar’s household.” There can be little question that Nero had members of his “household” scattered all over the Empire looking out for his interests in the provinces. But nowhere outside of Rome is there a known concentration of them of such size that some of its “members” are noteworthy for having become believers in Christ, nor is there any evidence for the use of this terminology outside of Rome. Indeed, in contrast to the mention of the Praetorian Guard, “household” (oikia) is not a technical term, and Paul uses it on several occasions, always to refer to “the house and its occupants.” Therefore, if oikia in 4:22 does not refer to Caesar’s household in Rome, it would mean that Paul in this case had abandoned his normal usage. One would seem to need hard evidence and particularly compelling reasons for making such an argument and hence for rejecting the Roman provenance of this letter.

But compelling reasons for rejecting the tradition are precisely what is lacking. Only two have a degree of substance, but neither carries conviction. First, it is argued that in writing to Rome Paul expected to start a mission in the West, not to return East (Rom. 15:23–24), whereas in our letter Paul expects to be released and to return to Philippi (1:26; 2:24). Second, the distance between Rome and Philippi (ca. 800 miles [1300 kms]) is argued to be too great for the “five trips” to and fro that this letter is alleged to presuppose.89

With regard to the first matter, there is every imaginable difference between what Paul hoped to do when speaking as a free man some three or four years before our letter and what he now plans to do at the end of a long and trying imprisonment—especially so with some storm clouds hovering over his churches in the East.90 Likewise, the second matter is hardly an issue at all, since it presupposes more “trips” between Paul and Philippi than are warranted and assumes the historically unlikely scenario that Epaphroditus was traveling alone.91 Philippi, after all, sat astride the Egnatian Way, which put people in Rome from Macedonia and vice versa in a relatively short time by ancient standards. The alleged distance factor, therefore, is more imaginary than real.92 Thus, even though these arguments could be seen as supporting the Ephesian hypothesis, they do not in fact call into question the Roman hypothesis. I do not hereby assert that the tradition must be correct, but that in fact the data favor it, and that there is no good reason to reject it. Hence the commentary proceeds from this perspective.

As to the time frame of this imprisonment, the traditional suggestion of between 60 and 62 fits most of the data best. Although some of this evidence is capable of another interpretation, the internal evidence of Philippians would put the writing of this letter toward the latter end of the imprisonment,93 rather than early on, thus closer to 62 than to 60.

D. How Philippians “Works”

On the basis of the foregoing discussion, we may assume Philippians to have been occasioned by the following: (1) Paul’s imprisonment, to which the Philippians have responded with a gift by way of Epaphroditus, thus renewing their commitment to “friendship” with Paul in the matter of “giving and receiving.” (2) That Ephaphroditus has apparently told him about the situation back home, which involved opposition and suffering at the hands of their pagan neighbors and some internal unrest, especially between two of the women who were probably leaders of some kind.

Paul’s response takes the basic “form” of a letter of friendship, which in this case weaves in his exhortations regarding their present situation at the chronologically appropriate places, saving his acknowledgment of their gift until the end, so that it will not get lost in the midst of the exhortations.

Thus, following the proemium (1:1–11) in which he anticipates both dimensions of the letter (friendship and exhortation), the letter is structured around the typical language of friendship, “my affairs” and “your affairs.” But at the same time it follows a basically chronological scheme. Thus:

1. The letter begins at the point of Epaphroditus’s arrival, which had a twofold purpose: (a) to present their gift to Paul (reflecting their concern for him); and (b) to inform him about the situation back home (which becomes the focus of Paul’s concern). For Paul, these two matters merge at one point: the progress of the gospel.

2. Paul is currently “absent” from them, which calls forth the first two sections of the letter. First he reports about his “affairs” (1:12–26), that from his perspective (beyond what Epaphroditus would tell them) his imprisonment is advancing the gospel; at the same time he joyfully (and wistfully) contemplates the outcome—that it will go in his favor (meaning “life”) but against his desire (to “depart” and be with Christ).

3. But Paul’s real concern is with their “affairs,” which in their present condition are unlikely to advance the gospel. Although he expects to come soon for the sake of “their progress,” in the meantime a letter will take his place; thus 1:27–2:18 addresses their current situation, in which he points to Christ as the paradigm of the selflessness and humility necessary to make unity work.

4. At 2:19 two kinds of chronology are at work: (a) from the perspective of his writing the letter (with both Timothy and Epaphroditus present); (b) from the perspective of the Philippians, as the letter is being read. Thus he writes a letter to accompany the return of Epaphroditus, which comes next in terms of actual chronology, but second (after vv. 19–24) in terms of his concerns for writing.

5. Thus very soon he hopes to send Timothy, whose task is twofold: (a) to inform the Philippians about the (expected) outcome of the trial; but (b) to return to inform Paul as to whether the letter had done any good. Thus Timothy is to return to Paul, before Paul himself sets out, which event will transpire (apparently) shortly thereafter (2:19–24).94

6. In the meantime he has sent Epaphroditus back home with this letter (2:25–30).

7. The next hortatory section (3:1–4:3) is written from the perspective of Epaphroditus’s return and his reading this letter in their midst (which takes the place of Paul’s presence). Framed by the imperative to rejoice in the Lord (3:1; 4:4), it warns them—for their safety—of matters he has often brought to their attention before, and uses that warning to refocus their attention on their sure eschatological future.

7. At 4:4 he begins the final set of imperatives (vv. 4–9) with which he regularly concludes his letters.

8. But he breaks that off just before the final greetings (4:21–23) to acknowledge their gift to him, so that the final words they hear will be those of gratitude, reciprocity from God himself, and doxology (4:10–20).

The Analysis of the letter that appears on pp. 54–55, and the commentary that follows, proceed along the above lines.

As to the specific purpose of the letter, the way forward might be to ask a hypothetical question: Would Paul have written this letter if Epaphroditus were not returning home, having now recovered from his illness? One is tempted to say No, since Paul intends to come himself in the near future; and much of what he says here could have waited until then. But that is also why we must finally answer Yes; because he intends to send Timothy on ahead in any case. Had he not sent a letter by Epaphroditus, he would surely have done so with Timothy. All of which suggests that in the end, the real purpose of the letter lies with the phrase “your progress in the faith” (1:25), which for Paul ultimately has to do with the progress of the gospel, both in their lives and in their city. In the final analysis “their affairs” is the real reason for the letter. That is why Epaphroditus carries a letter with him now, why Timothy will follow on shortly, and why Paul will return East rather than go West once he is released.

III. THE QUESTION OF AUTHENTICITY—SOME NOTES ON 2:6–11

By anyone’s reckoning, 2:6–11 constitutes the single most significant block of material in Philippians. So much is this so, that the secondary literature on this passage, which has mushroomed incrementally over the past forty years, exceeds that on all the rest of the letter combined. The result has been that most contemporary commentaries have been compelled to offer an excursus of some kind simply to deal with the critical issues that have been raised on this passage. Three matters are at issue: (1) the “form” of the passage, which was first argued by Lohmeyer in 1928 to be a hymn and has now become the unquestioned assumption of nearly all who write on the passage; if a hymn, then the question of its strophic arrangement becomes the first matter of discussion; (2) the question of background and authorship, since it is common to assume that the “hymn” is both pre-Pauline and therefore non-Pauline; and (3) understanding its place in its present context. The latter question has been dealt with at some length in the commentary itself. But since the first question has led to the second, and since “authenticity” is one of the traditional matters taken up in the “Introduction” to a commentary, a few words about these two matters need to noted here—especially so, since I have taken a view that runs counter to much of the secondary literature.95

A. The Question of Form

The nearly universal judgment of scholarship is that in Phil 2:6–11 we are dealing with an early hymn about Christ.96 The reasons for this judgment are basically four: (1) The “who” (hos) with which v. 6 begins is paralleled in other passages in the NT also understood to be christological hymns (Col 1:15, 18; 1 Tim 3:16); (2) the exalted language and rhythmic quality of the whole; (3) the conviction that the whole can be displayed to show structured parallelism, of a kind with other pieces of Semitic poetry; (4) the language and structure seem to give these verses an internal coherence that separates them from the discourse of the epistle itself at this point.97 For the sake of this discussion, I give here the most commonly accepted structural arrangement (that of NA²⁶, in literal English) with numbered lines:

6	a	Who in the form of God being
	b	Not grasping considered
	c		to be equal with God,
7	a	But himself emptied
	b		the form of a slave taking,
	c	In the likeness of human beings becoming;
	d		And in appearance being found as a human being
8	a	He humbled himself
	b	Becoming obedient unto death,
	c		but death of a cross
9	a	Therefore also God him highly exalted
	b	And bestowed on him the name
	c		that is above every name,
10	a	So that at the name of Jesus
	b	Every knee should bow
	c		of those in the heavens and on earth and under the earth
11	a	And every tongue confess that
	b	The Lord [is] Jesus Christ
	c		to the glory of God the Father.

Despite the nearly universal acceptance of this point of view, there are good reasons to pause.

First, if originally a hymn, it has no correspondence of any kind with Greek hymnody or poetry; therefore, it would have to be Semitic in origin. But the alleged Semitic parallelism of this piece is unlike any known example of Hebrew psalmody. The word “hymn” properly refers to a song in praise of deity; in its present form—and even in its several reconstructed forms—this passage lacks the rhythm and parallelism that one might expect of material that is to be sung.98 And in any case, it fits very poorly with the clearly hymnic material in the Psalter—or with Luke 1:46–55, 68–79, or 1 Timothy 3:16b, to name but a few certain NT examples of hymns.

Second, exalted—even poetic—prose does not necessarily mean that one is dealing with a hymn. The same objections that I have raised as to the hymnic character of 1 Corinthians 13 must also be raised here.99 Paul is capable of especially exalted prose whenever he thinks on the work of Christ.

Third, the hos in this case is not precisely like its alleged parallels in Col 1:15 (18b) and 1 Tim 3:16. In the former case, even though its antecedent is the “Son” of v. 13, the resultant connection of the “hymn” with its antecedent is not at all smooth.100 In the latter case, the connection of the hos with the rest of the sentence is ungrammatical, thus suggesting that it belonged to an original hymn (and should be translated with a “soft” antecedent, “he who”). But in the present case the “who” belongs to a perfectly normal Pauline sentence in which it immediately follows its antecedent, Christ Jesus.

Fourth, as pointed out in the commentary, these sentences, exalted and rhythmic as they are, follow one another in perfectly orderly prose—all quite in Pauline style. They begin (a) with a relative clause, in which two ideas are set off with a typically Pauline “not/but” contrast, followed (b) by another clause begun with “and,” all of which (c) is followed by a final sentence begun with an inferential “therefore also,” concluding with a result clause in two parts, with a final noun (hoti, “that”) clause. Not only is this as typically Pauline “argumentation” as one can find anywhere in his letters, but also there are scores of places in Paul where there are more balanced structures than this, but where, because of the subject matter, no one suspects Paul of citing poetry or writing hymnody.101 His own rhetorical style is replete with examples of balanced structures, parallelism, chiasmus, etc.

Fifth, many of the alleged lines are especially irregular if they are intended to function as lines of Semitic poetry. For example, in the commonly accepted structural arrangement given above, there are no verbs at all in six of the “lines”:102

6c	to be equal with God
8d	but death of a cross
9c	the name above all names
10a	in order that at the name of Jesus
10c	of those in the heavens and on earth and under the earth
11c	unto the glory of God the Father

Without discounting for a moment the “rhythmic” and “poetic” nature of some parts of this passage, such alleged “lines” as these are simply not the stuff of poetry as such; nor are they natural to the text as “lines” at all, but are simply the creation of the scholars who have here found a “hymn.”

Not all scholars, of course, adopt this scheme; indeed there are at least five other basic proposals, with modifications in several of them.103 It is of little moment here to outline these various schemes. The very fact that there is so little agreement on this crucial matter calls the whole procedure into question. If one were to respond that there is agreement at least on the fact that it is a hymn, the rebuttal still remains: if so, then one should expect that its parts would be plainly visible to all. Such is certainly the case with Col 1:15–18 and 1 Tim 3:16; but here, and this seems decisive, all the arrangements are flawed in some way or another. Either one must (1) excise lines, (2) dismiss the obvious inner logic of the whole, or (3) create lines that are either without parallelism or verbless.

It should be noted finally that any excision of words or lines, so as to reproduce the “original” hymn, is an exercise in exegetical futility. It implies, and this is sometimes vigorously defended,104 that the first concern of exegesis is the meaning of the “hymn” on its own, apart from its present context. But such a view is indefensible, since (1) our only access to the “hymn” is in its present form and present position, and (2) we must begin any legitimate exegesis by assuming that all the present words are included because they contribute in some way to Paul’s own concerns. To assume otherwise is a form of exegetical nihilism, in which on nondemonstrable prior grounds, one determines that an author incorporated foreign material for no ostensible reason. And that leads directly to the question of “authenticity.”

B. The Question of Background/Authorship

The questions of background and authorship are closely related, in that once the passage was isolated as a “hymn,” then certain features were “discovered” to be “un-Pauline” (with alleged Pauline features “missing”), which in turn led many to argue that the whole was both pre-Pauline and therefore non-Pauline.105 Once that was established, then it was necessary to find its original “life setting.” It should not surprise us, given the assumptions of the methodology, that scholars found what they were looking for. Nor should it surprise one that, as with form, every imaginable background has been argued for:

a. Heterodox Judaism (Lohmeyer)

b. Iranian myth of the Heavenly Redeemer (Beare)

c. Hellenistic, pre-Christian Gnosticism (Käsemann)

d. Jewish Gnosticism (J. A. Sanders)

e. OT Servant passages (Coppens, Moule, Strimple)

f. Genesis account of Adam (Murphy-O’Connor, Dunn)

g. Hellenistic Jewish Wisdom speculation (Georgi)

The very diversity of these proposals suggests something of the futility (dare one say irrelevance?) of this exercise. After all, one comes to these positions by guessing at what are alleged to be “Pauline adaptations and interpolations,” which means that one is fairly free to create as one wills.

All of this becomes thoroughly questionable, when one argues 106 that since Paul did not compose it, then one may not use other Pauline words—or even the present context!—to interpret it. That is, not only can it be isolated from its context, it is argued, but since Paul did not write it, it must be so isolated and must be understood on its own, without reference either to Paul or to its present Pauline context. That is an exegetical tour de force of almost unparalleled boldness.

The primary objection to these views is that they show very little sensitivity either to Paul or to the nature of composition in antiquity. On the one hand, Paul is quite capable of citing,107 when that suits him. And in such cases we have something that is not speculative to guide us, namely his abundant use of the OT, where sometimes he adapts, sometimes he cites rather closely, and sometimes he takes over its words in an intertextual way. But in all cases, the citation is both clearly identifiable and capable of making at least fairly good sense in its context. That is, Paul chooses to cite because he wants to support or elaborate a point. On the other hand, there are all kinds of evidence that in other cases ancient authors—and probably Paul as well—also took over other material rather wholesale and adapted it to fit their own compositions (the Gospels being a clear case in point). In these latter cases, even when they may have carried over some of the language from their source(s), their authors clearly intend for the present material not to be identifiable as to its source precisely because for them it is now their own material. So in the present case. Here Paul dictates, and the amanuensis transcribes word by word (or syllable by syllable), without any sense that a source needs to be noted. Indeed, in the original letter what we call vv. 5 and 6 would have been “run on,” without breaks for words or sentences and without signals indicating the presence of new material.

In this kind of process, one can only speak of “writing in” or “composition”; the language “interpolation” or “insertion” is altogether misleading as to the actual historical process. What Paul dictates he takes ownership of, even if it had prior existence elsewhere. To argue that what he thus dictates, in thoroughly Pauline sentences, does not reflect his own theology is to argue for exegetical anarchy.108

That leads, then, to some final observations about “authenticity.” First, by definition “authenticity” or “inauthenticity” means that a written document, or parts thereof, was either written by the person to whom it is attributed, or it was not. With regard to whole documents, this is a simple matter. Peter either did or did not write 2 Peter; Didymus the Blind either did or did not write De Trinitate, which has been attributed to him and transmitted among his writings. When it comes to parts of a document that is otherwise believed to be authentic, then it is a matter of “interpolation” by a later hand. Though now transmitted as part of the document in hand, because the material is “inauthentic” it is not necessary to comment on this material as by the author—although one should at least try to discover how such “foreign matter” came to be in the text. The most obvious place where this phenomenon occurs is in the area of textual criticism, and includes such major interpolations as John 7:53–8:12 and 1 Cor 14:34–35,109 as well as hundreds of lesser ones for each NT document. But in the discussion of this passage, “authenticity” has taken on a new meaning: that Paul has himself “interpolated” a piece of traditional, pre-Pauline, and therefore non-Pauline, material—of which he was not the original “author”—into his letter at 2:6, either as a piece of whole cloth or as “redacted” by him to some degree or another;110 and therefore, even though he “wrote” it, he did not “author” it and it is thus “inauthentic” and may not be used to reconstruct Pauline theology. This is a strange use of language indeed, since by this new definition most of the Gospel of Matthew must be judged “inauthentic”; after all, none of his Markan or “Q” materials was originally “authored” by him.

But that would seem to push the concept of “inauthenticity” beyond recognizable limits. Whether the passage had pre-Pauline existence is a moot point, which cannot be proved one way or the other. But that Paul “interpolated” the material into his letter in such a way that it is not to be understood as his own borders on fantasy; it would be as though he did not intend the doxology in Rom 11:33–36 to reflect his own point of view because it is so obviously full of “traditional” (including OT) material.

Finally, it needs to be stressed (1) that Paul is the author in terms of its inclusion, including all the present words of 2:6–11, and (2) that although Paul often quotes, this passage does not come by way of quotation. The alleged “hymn” is a grammatical piece inextricably connected to the present context. Whereas one might legitimately look separately at a piece of quoted material, speculate as to its original meaning, and then wonder whether an author has correctly understood that original meaning, neither the grammar, the content, nor the context allow such a procedure here. As Morna Hooker put it: “For even if the material is non-Pauline, we may expect Paul himself to have interpreted it and used it in a Pauline manner.”111 Indeed, of this whole enterprise Hooker says (correctly):

If the passage is pre-Pauline, then we have no guide lines to help us in understanding its meaning. Commentators may speculate about the background—but we know very little about pre-Pauline Christianity, and nothing at all about the context in which the passage originated. It may therefore be more profitable to look first at the function of these verses in the present context and to enquire about possible parallels within Paul’s own writings.112

“Of course!” one wants to respond to such an eminently reasonable proposal; otherwise why did Paul dictate it in this context as something that in v. 12 he will argue from?113 In any case, this material appears in the present commentary as part of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, with all the grammatical, lexical, and contextual questions that are raised in the process.

IV. THEOLOGICAL CONTRIBUTIONS

For a “hortatory letter of friendship” Philippians reveals an extraordinary amount of Pauline theology, and not just in the one passage (2:6–11) that has long held interest in this regard. My concern here is not to write a “theology of Philippians,” but to highlight both the implicit and explicit theological concerns that are the driving force behind the letter. It is, however, significant to note—in keeping with the nature of this particular letter—that theology for Paul is not philosophical or academic in nature, but is confessional (cf. 1:18–24; 3:3–14) and doxological (4:19–20). Theology in Philippians first of all takes the form of story; to isolate the theology from the story, as if the story were irrelevant to the theology, would be in effect to eliminate one of the primary theological contributions of the letter!

A. The Gospel

We noted above (p. 14) and will have occasion to note throughout the commentary that the ultimate urgency of this letter is the gospel, which in this letter takes the form of “the advance of the gospel”: Paul’s and the Philippians’ relationship is described in terms of “participation/partnership in the gospel” (1:5; 4:15); Paul himself is in prison “for the defense and confirmation of the gospel” (1:7, 16), an imprisonment that has in fact brought about “the advance of the gospel” (1:12); Paul’s concern for the Philippians is for their own “advance/progress in the faith (= the gospel)” (1:25); and his major concern in this regard is that they get their corporate act together for the sake of the gospel in Philippi (1:27; 2:16). The gospel, therefore, has to do first of all with evangelism, “preaching Christ” (1:18) so that others will hear it for the good news that it is.

On the other hand, in contrast to other letters, there is very little that is said in Philippians as to the content of the gospel—which should surprise us none, since this is not a polemical letter but a letter of friendship, and on this matter he and they have long been in accord. What we do learn from its various incidental theological affirmations (e.g., 2:6–11; 3:3, 9, 13–14, 20–21; 4:19) is that the central core of his understanding of the gospel is consistently the same.114 The absolute heart of the Pauline theological enterprise is the Triune God effecting “salvation in Christ,” and thus creating a people for his name, whose present existence is thoroughly eschatological; predicated on the death and resurrection of Christ and the gift of the eschatological Spirit, God’s people are both “already” and “not yet” as they live the life of the future in the present, awaiting God’s final wrapup, the final consummation of “salvation in Christ.” Every significant theological moment in the letter reflects this central core in some way or another, sometimes with emphases unique to the “contingencies” of Philippians, but at all times expressed in “coherence” with what Paul says elsewhere in his letters.

B. The Trinity as the Theological Key

Although Christ always plays the central role in the Pauline theological enterprise—after all, it is not for naught that “salvation in Christ” lies at the heart of things—in fact one does not long do theology in Paul without taking seriously that the living God, indeed the Trinity,115 is the heart and soul of everything for him. God, now known in a Triune way through the coming of Christ and the Spirit, is the fundamental presupposition of Paul’s existence and worldview. Thus “salvation in Christ” is initiated by God the Father, it is effected in our human history by Christ Jesus the Son,116 it is appropriated as an experienced reality through the gift of the eschatological Spirit. We will look at the central role of Christ momentarily; here we need to note the consistent way this understanding about the Father and the Spirit carry through in this letter.

As always in Paul, God the Father stands as the primary reality at the beginning and end of all things, and especially of “salvation in Christ.” Salvation is God’s thing; it is his story whatever else.117 God both initiated it (1:6; cf. 3:9, 14) and will bring it to completion (1:6); God is the one who makes it work in the present (2:13); and all that God has done through Christ and the Spirit has “the praise and glory of God” as its ultimate goal (1:11; 2:9–11; 4:18, 20). Hence, God’s people have been “called” by him to obtain the final eschatological prize (3:14); their salvation and righteousness come “from God” (1:28; 3:9); they are “God’s children” (2:15), whose every need will be supplied in keeping with his riches in glory as they are in Christ Jesus (4:19; cf. 4:6–7). God is the “God of peace” who is present among his children (4:9), so that his peace may “rule” in both their individual and corporate lives (4:7). Presuppositional to all of this is God’s character. Full of mercy (2:27) and grace (1:2), he lavishes grace on his people in keeping with the immensity of his own riches inherent in his glory (4:19); moreover, it is a “good work” that God is effecting in his people (1:6), which he does for the sake of his own good pleasure (2:13). Paul’s basic theology is thus derived from his biblical roots; as with the Psalmist he knows that “God is good,” whose “steadfast love endures forever” (Ps 136:1).

Although the Spirit does not play an explicitly major role in this letter, he is mentioned at four key points, all in keeping with his role in “salvation in Christ” as that is spelled out elsewhere. Thus the experienced reality of the “Spirit of God” is the first reality brought forward in 3:3 as evidence not only that “we, who boast in Christ Jesus” are the true circumcision, but also that the true “worship/service” of God is not to be found in religious observance but through life in the Spirit. Thus the Spirit will be the key to Paul’s magnifying Christ (and thus vindicating Paul and his gospel) at his upcoming trial (1:19); and the Spirit (who is presupposed as the way “God is at work in them” in 2:13) is the key to the Philippians’ standing firm as a united people on behalf of the gospel (1:27; 2:1). Again, there is nothing unique here; this is the recurring explicit and implicit theology of the apostle.

C. The Central Role of Christ

On anybody’s reading, Christ plays the absolutely central role in Paul’s life and thought, and nowhere is that more evident than in Philippians. For Paul Christ is his “life,” so that death is “gain” (1:21) because it means the ultimate realization of life, namely “being with Christ” (1:24). Thus the ultimate gain of life—now and forever—is the “surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord,” because of whom everything else is considered “foul-smelling street garbage” fit only for dogs (3:8). Knowing Christ—intimately, fully, and finally—this is the prize, the ultimate goal of the upward calling of God that has taken place in Christ Jesus (3:13–14). Everything else that matters in life, therefore, is “in Christ” or “through Christ” in some way or another.

It is therefore of more than mere passing interest that there is scarcely an explicit word about Christ’s central role in “salvation in Christ” in the entire letter. On the other hand, given the nature of this letter, neither should that be surprising. In fact such a soteriological role is assumed everywhere, especially with the some twenty-one occurrences of the phrase “in Christ” and its equivalents. The vast majority of these presuppose both the prior work of Christ and Christ as the sphere of present existence, which his saving work has made possible.

The saving work itself is implied throughout: Christ is the content of the gospel that is proclaimed (1:15–18; cf. 1:27, “the gospel about Christ”); his death by crucifixion as “for us” is the presupposition both of our suffering “for him” (1:29) and of Christ as paradigm for life in our present “already/not yet” existence (2:8; cf. 3:10, 18); present righteousness is by “faith in Christ,” which means that one is “found in him,” not having one’s own righteousness but that which is from God. Thus we “boast/glory” in Christ Jesus (3:3), precisely because he has effected God’s salvation in our behalf (1:11; 3:12). Christ is therefore the ground of present confidence (2:24), hope (2:19), and joy (3:1; 4:4).

But most of this theology is expressed in presuppositional ways; it is seldom explicit and never argued for as such. That presupposition, however, is the key to the primary role Christ plays in this letter: as the one who in his saving death fully revealed God’s character and is thus the ultimate paradigm of life in the present. And here is where the particularly “high Christology” of this letter comes into focus, a Christology that is presupposed in a number of off-handed ways 118 and is made explicit in the marvelous Christ narrative in 2:6–11. If paradigm of “selflessness” and “humility” is the reason for that narrative, what makes it work is its Christology: that the one who in coming as a human being “took the form of a slave” and “humbled himself unto death on a cross” is none other than the one who is “in the ‘form’ of God” and thus “equal with God” in every way. Although this explicitly expresses pre-existence,119 that is less Paul’s concern than is the demonstration of what true “equality with God” looks like, since the clear implication of vv. 7–8 is that in the “humiliation” of his humanity Christ did not cease to be “equal with God.” The full vindication of Christ’s death as expressing ultimate “God-likeness” is found in vv. 9–11, where God bestows on Christ the divine “Name,” the name of the “Lord God” himself.

This is what makes Paul’s personal narrative in 3:4–14 work as well. The goal of everything is to “know Christ,” which means through the power of his resurrection to “participate in his sufferings” and thus to be “conformed to his death” (3:10–11). Thus Christ’s death by crucifixion—that most hated and execrable of deaths from the Roman point of view—is not only the place of God’s redemption but the place of the full revelation of his “likeness.” Only the very high Christology expressed in 2:6 could make this work. Hence, the absolutely central role Christ plays in the Pauline theological enterprise, not to mention the experience and understanding of God in everyday life.

D. The Eschatological Framework

The fundamental framework for all of Paul’s theologizing, especially for “salvation in Christ,” is his eschatological understanding of present existence—as both “already” and “not yet.” With the resurrection of Christ and the gift of the promised Holy Spirit, God has already set the future inexorably in motion; thus salvation is “already.” But the consummation of salvation awaits the (now second) coming of Christ—“the Day of Christ,” Paul calls it (1:6, 10; 2:16); thus salvation has “not yet” been fully realized. The fact that the future has already begun with the coming of God himself (through Christ and the Spirit) means two crucial things for Paul: that the consummation is absolutely guaranteed, and that present existence is therefore altogether determined by this reality. That is, one’s life in the present is not conditioned or determined by present exigencies, but by the singular reality that God’s people belong to the future that has already come present. Marked by Christ’s death and resurrection and identified as God’s people by the gift of the Spirit, they live the life of the future in the present, determined by its values and perspective, no matter what their present circumstances.

This essential framework finds expression both explicitly and implicitly throughout Philippians. It begins in the thanksgiving (“God has begun a good work … which he will bring to completion at the day of Christ Jesus,” 1:6), is essential to the prayer report (1:10), underlies the Christ narrative in chap. 2 (esp. vv. 9–11; cf. v. 16), and is the essential matter in Paul’s own narrative in chap. 3 (esp. vv. 10–14, 20–21). Already is our “citizenship in heaven,” from whence we await the (not yet) coming of our Savior, Jesus the Lord. Indeed, only in Philippians does Paul insert the (perhaps purposefully ambiguous) indicative, “The Lord is near,” in his concluding exhortations (4:4–9).

At this point what is theologically at stake in Philippians is the twin reality of the Philippians’ present suffering and of the (apparent) diminution of their clear vision of the sure future that awaits. On the one hand, it is the guaranteed future—the “power of Christ’s resurrection” (3:10)—that makes it possible, not to mention necessary, to live in a cruciform way in the present (3:10–14), because in any case these present “bodies of humiliation” shall be transformed into the likeness of Christ’s present “body of glory” (3:21). It is this kind of eschatological existence—the guaranteed future determining all of life in the present—that is Paul’s “secret” to knowing how both “to abound and to be abased.” Neither determines life in the present; only Christ does, whose death and resurrection have already marked us as citizens of heaven. That is why Paul can say so strongly, “To live is Christ; to die is gain.” Either way, Paul wins. So present suffering does not dictate present existence; suffering on behalf of Christ has been graciously given to those who follow him (1:29), whose present lives are in process of “being conformed into the likeness of his death” (3:11).

On the other hand, in ways he seldom does elsewhere, there is regular emphasis in this letter on “standing fast” and in so doing by giving full effort to the pursuit of the heavenly prize, the final, full knowing of Christ (3:12–14). While the future is sure, guaranteed by Christ’s resurrection and the gift of the eschatological Spirit, one’s stance and focus in the present is on that sure future. Like the runner in the games, Paul sets himself before them as a model of one who is singularly given to crossing the goal and obtaining the prize; and he weeps over those who have given up on the future, whose “minds are set on earthly things” (3:18–19). To lose sight of the future is to lose sight of Christ himself, and thereby to become an enemy of the cross.

E. The Christian Life

In Philippians all of the preceding theological undercurrents and foci find expression for a single purpose: that the Philippians as a community of believers in Philippi will live the “righteousness” of the gospel in the present as they await its consummation. They are a “colony of heaven” (see on 3:20), living the life of heaven in their lives together as the people of God in Philippi. What Paul is concerned about is their “Christ-likeness,” which in this letter is clearly spelled out as “God-likeness” (= “godliness”).

At issue is love within a community (1:9; 2:2) where some “posturing” is taking place—“selfish ambition/rivalry” and “vain glory” (2:3)—leading to some internal “grumbling and murmuring” (2:14). And love is grounded in God’s own character, “humbleness of mind,” which is defined in terms of “putting the needs of others before one’s own,” and is exemplified by the One who as “equal with God” poured himself out into our humanity and in that humanity humbled himself to the ultimate obedience of death on a cross. This is the “fruit of righteousness” for which Paul prays for them (1:11) and the “knowing of Christ” for which he longs (3:8–11), thereby offering himself as one to imitate by the way they “walk” (3:15–17).

Here, then, is also the key to life in the present as cruciform—not just individually, but corporately. We not only believe in Christ but are graciously privileged to “suffer for his sake” (1:29). For only as our lives are thus cruciform (3:11) do we begin to “know Christ.” The people of God not only model such “God-likeness” in their life together, but in their standing firm in the one Spirit for the sake of the world (1:27; 2:15). Thus Christ is the beginning and end of everything for the believer: salvation means to “be found in him,” not having one’s own righteousness, but that which comes from God through faith in Christ; but Christ is also the paradigm for what “salvation” looks like when it has been effected in the life of his followers—it looks like him.

All of which leads to the best known of the theological motifs in this letter—joy in the midst of suffering. But joy is not the primary motif; rather it is a leitmotif. Joy is how believers who know Christ and whose futures are guaranteed by Christ respond in the context of present difficulties, not because they like to suffer, but because their joy is “in the Lord.” But joy is not a feeling, it is an activity. In keeping with the Psalmists, Paul urges them to “rejoice in the Lord,” which can only mean to vocalize their joy in song and word. Above everything else, joy is the distinctive mark of the believer in Christ Jesus; and in this letter it comes most often as an imperative. Believers are to “rejoice in the Lord always” (4:4), because joy has not to do with one’s circumstances but with one’s relationship with the Lord; and they are to do so both on their own, as it were, and together with others (2:18). Whatever else, life in Christ is a life of joy. To miss this reality is to miss Philippians altogether; and to miss Philippians at this point is to miss out on an essential quality of Christian life.

In sum: Our letter invites us into the advance of the gospel, the good news about Christ and the Spirit. It points us to Christ, both for now and forever. Christ is the gospel; Christ is Savior and Lord; thus Christ is our life; Christ is our way of life; Christ is our future; Christ is our joy; “to live is Christ; to die is gain”; and all to the glory of our God and Father. Amen.