The anxiety of verse 13 breaks into thanksgiving in verse 14 (“Thanks be to God”), as Paul is reminded of the good news that Titus brought of the Corinthians’ reconciliation (7:5–16). This line of thought will be resumed in 7:5. The intervening material (2:14–7:4) constitutes a profound theological excursus on the nature of Paul’s life, ministry, and message, as one of strength displayed through weakness, life revealed through death, and hope in the midst of despair.
Who always leads us in triumphal procession (2:14–16). While some translations of verse 14 give the impression that Paul is portraying himself as one of the victors marching in a triumphal procession, this rendering is linguistically impossible. If we were to fill out the NIV translation above in light of the triumphal imagery (see “The Triumphal Procession”) and in accordance with the only attested meaning of this Greek construction, we would render this clause, “Thanks be to God who always leads us as conquered foes in his triumphal procession.”25 Paul makes a similar statement in 1 Corinthians 4:9: “For it seems to me that God has put us apostles on display at the end of the procession, like men condemned to die in the arena.” Although formerly an “enemy of the cross” (Phil. 3:18; see Gal. 1:13; 1 Tim. 1:13), Paul now sees himself as Christ’s slave (Rom. 1:1; 2 Cor. 4:5), whose suffering and ministry are offered as a continuous testimony to the glory of Christ and as a fragrant sacrifice (see below) of thanks to God.
And through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him (2:14). One of the standard features of religious or civic rituals in antiquity was the use of incense and other fragrant materials. Religious processions, the arrival of an important dignitary, the triumphal return of a Roman general, and so on, were all occasions on which such aromatics might be used. In describing the triumphal procession of Aemelius Paulus, Plutarch tells us that “every temple was open and filled with garlands and incense.”26 Continuing the image of the Roman triumph, Paul portrays his crushed and vanquished apostolic existence as the means through which the aroma of the crucified Christ is mediated to those around him. Paradoxically, God’s strength is most potently displayed through Paul’s weakness. Already the apostle is preparing the ground for his startling declaration in 12:10, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
TRIUMPHAL ARCH
The Arch of Titus commemorating his Roman triumphal procession after defeating Judea and Jerusalem in the Jewish War.
For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing (2:15). Embedded within the imagery of the triumphal procession is an allusion to the Levitical sacrifices of the Old Testament, where the terms euōdia (NIV “fragrance”) and osmē (NIV “aroma”) combine to refer to a sacrificial “aroma pleasing to the LORD” (Lev. 2:2, 12; 6:14, etc.). As elsewhere (e.g., Col. 1:24), Paul portrays his apostolic suffering as an extension of the suffering of Christ, and he will make this point more explicitly in 4:10: “We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus.”
To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life (2:16). Although the transitions between metaphors is abrupt, Paul returns to the spectacle of the triumph and notes the differing effects the aroma-filled parade route would have on those involved. For the cheering crowds, the victorious soldiers, and the gloating general, this was the sweet fragrance of victory. But to the unfortunate captives destined for the auctioneer’s block or execution in the forum, this was the scent of death itself.
Unlike so many, we do not peddle the word of God for profit (2:17). Preaching the gospel for mere financial gain has been a problem from the earliest days of the Christian movement. Already by the time of the Didache (ca. A.D. 80–150) Christian communities were exhorted to judge itinerant Christian teachers with reference to their desire for monetary gain: “And when the apostle leaves, he is to take nothing except bread until he finds his next night’s lodging. But if he asks for money he is a false prophet.”27 Paul may have in mind the intruders addressed in chapters 10–13, or he may be referring more generally to that familiar brand of itinerant philosopher who would peddle his teaching for a hefty profit.
The Greek verb Paul uses for “peddle for profit” (kapēleuō) was regularly used as an indictment against the Sophists, the popular rhetoricians of Paul’s day. As early as Socrates we find the Sophists described as those who “take their doctrines the round of our cities, hawking them about (kapēleuō) to any odd purchaser.”28 Philo, Paul’s contemporary in Alexandria, makes a similar disparaging assessment of the Sophists: “And the wisdom must not be that of the systems hatched by the word-catchers and Sophists who sell their tenets and arguments like any bit of merchandise in the market.”29 Dio Chrysostom describes this lot as those who come “in the guise of philosophers,” yet whose pretentious oratory was displayed solely “with a view to their own profit and reputation.”30
But the charge of avarice was leveled against a variety of schools of philosophy whose practitioners earned their livelihood from attracting a crowd and then gaining a following. Indeed, the Cynics sometimes fared little better than the Sophists:
These Cynics, posting themselves at street-corners, in alleyways, and at temple-gates, pass around the hat and play upon the credulity of lads and sailors and crowds of that sort, stringing together rough jokes and much tittle-tattle and that low bandage that smacks of the market-place.31
Paul’s point is that unlike so many who proclaim their “religion” for a price, he and his companions preach Christ for altruistic reasons.
Are we beginning to commend ourselves again? … You yourselves are our letter … written not with ink … not on tablets of stone (3:1–3). No doubt Paul’s initial ministry in Corinth involved a sincere effort to win the trust of these new believers, to “commend” himself to them. Paul’s denial of any need for continual self-commendation is grounded in the obvious reality of their transformed lives: “You show that you are a letter from Christ” (3:3).
To the Corinthians, surrounded on all sides by monuments of self-commendation, Paul’s words may have been heard as a friendly barb. Many of Corinth’s civic structures were donated by wealthy patrons, and inscriptions of self-commendation, engraved in stone and proudly heralding the name of the benefactor, have been found on monuments, temples, market stalls, and pavements (see “The Erastus Inscription”). Although slightly later than Paul, an inscription on a statue that the orator Herodes Atticus allowed to be erected in his honor bears witness to the indulgent nature of some of these self-commendations: “Given by great Herodes Atticus, pre-eminent above others, who had attained the peak of every kind of excellence … famous among Hellenes and furthermore a son [of Greece] greater than them all, the flower of Achaia.”32
Do we need, like some people, letters of recommendation to you or from you (3:1)? Although letters of reference are common enough today, they played a far more important role in ancient Roman society. Travelers, wishing to avoid the grubby and often sordid environment of roadside inns, relied on local hospitality. To help them obtain it, they carried letters of recommendation from people familiar with the region being traversed. Letters of reference were also written to introduce one party to another, frequently with a view to social advancement or to other practical assistance.33
Such letters presume a relationship of friendship or authority, or perhaps both (cf. the letter to Philemon, written by Paul on behalf of the runaway slave Onesimus). Most commentators see here a veiled reference to certain Christian missionaries who arrived in Corinth with letters of recommendation, perhaps from prominent members of the church in Jerusalem, and who subsequently caused trouble for Paul (see “Paul’s Opponents in Corinth” at 11:6). This is plausible, but the additional phrase “to you or from you” may indicate simply an innocent reference to the familiar practice of sending and receiving letters of recommendation.
Ministers of a new covenant (3:6). The clear allusions to Jeremiah and Ezekiel in 3:3 (see Jer. 17:1; 31:33; Ezek. 36:26–27) lead to a direct citation of Jeremiah’s memorable “new covenant” (Jer. 31:31), as Paul explains that his ministry is the fulfillment of the prophetic expectation of the inner renewal of God’s people. The newness of Jeremiah’s “new covenant” and Ezekiel’s “everlasting covenant” (Ezek. 37:26) was its inwardness: “I will write my law on their hearts” (Jer. 31:33); “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you” (Ezek. 36:26). The scrolls from Qumran similarly describe entrance into that community as entering into the “new covenant,” though membership in this sect entailed full and complete obedience to the Mosaic law and the rules of the community:34
All who enter the council of holiness of those walking in perfect behavior as he commanded, anyone of them who breaks a word of the law of Moses impertinently or through carelessness will be banished.35
The new covenant Paul announces, however, is not of “the letter,” which is unable to produce obedience, but of the life-giving Spirit, who energizes from within.
Not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life (3:6). In Jewish thought, the connection between “spirit” and “life” was as ancient as Genesis itself (Gen. 1:2; 2:7; 6:17), and Jewish writers regularly linked “spirit” with “life” as the substance that animates humanity: “ ‘Spirit’ is the most life-giving, and God is the author of life.”36 But the life Paul describes here is not biological, but ethical, spiritual life, and the roots of the idea go back to the prophet Ezekiel: “I will put my Spirit in you and you will live” (Ezek. 37:14). Moral renewal through the infusion of God’s Spirit was the hope of the prophets and is the reality of the new covenant community.