Expanding the Apocalyptic Landscape: The Pauline Tradition

Even the Pauline tradition—where scholars have long recognized the strength of apocalyptic influence on the apostle’s thought—is not immune from a similar apocalyptic suppression. Paul’s response to the church in Thessalonica regarding the fate of deceased Christians is illuminating:

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died. For this we declare to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means precede those who have died. For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever. (1 Thess. 4:13–17)

Here, Paul speaks to the faithful in Thessalonica in no uncertain terms—imminent apocalyptic terms. Paul expects to be at the Parousia of Jesus Christ. And just as we saw in the Synoptic tradition, Paul faced a period of time (approximately five or six years, if we accept the dating of 1 Thessalonians c. 49 CE and Romans c. 55 CE) in which he personally was confronted with the delayed Parousia. Although Romans was written to a different congregation on a completely different set of issues, it is nevertheless surprising how completely lacking are apocalyptic tones in the letter. If we regard Pauline Christianity as an apocalyptic movement like other apocalyptic groups throughout history, we should expect apocalypticism to be the theological lens through which all things are assessed. How could it be otherwise? But then the absence of apocalyptic elements in Romans is altogether curious.

It appears, then, that any assessment of the apocalyptic legacy of early Christianity must begin with an expansion of the scriptural materials we delegate as apocalyptic. To continue to focus our consideration of apocalyptic material solely on the book of Revelation allows us to compartmentalize our assessment of early Christian apocalyptic wholly on the last book of the Christian canon. Thus any subsequent appropriation of apocalyptic worldviews by Christian groups is easily marginalized by placing the hermeneutic blame on simplistic and/or overly literal readings of the book of Revelation. The first step in recovery is acknowledgment: in this case, acknowledgment that our apocalyptic roots run much deeper than the book of Revelation. Therefore, the work of intellectually excavating texts such as the Gospel of Mark and Paul’s First Letter to the Thessalonians is a positive first step in parsing how and why Christian apocalypticism has endured over two millennia. It is in our biblical DNA, present in the earliest letter from the apostle Paul and in the first Gospel ever written. And indeed, it is there, in all of its pure genre form, in the book of Revelation. It is more pervasive than we choose to admit, and scholarly discussions on matters of proper form have only distracted us from that fact. But Matthew, Luke, and Paul have left evidence not only of the prevalence of apocalyptic expectation but also of some measure of its unsustainability: that is, evidence that they tried to distance themselves from a perspective that had such a short shelf life. It appears that individuals and communities simply can’t be perpetually apocalyptic. Nevertheless, our apocalyptic memories are short, and we Christians find ourselves bouncing to and fro, from postures of apocalyptic fervor to more tranquil, reserved eschatological expectation. It is a rhythmic dance that has played out over two Christian millennia.