In his letters, Paul proposes a hierarchical ranking system to organize the early Christian assemblies. As we have seen in chapter 6, occupying the position of preeminence within the proposed organizational structure is the figure of the apostle. Israel’s god, Paul claimed, had assigned to each person his or her own particular position within the assembly. However, Paul’s proposals were not always accepted, his attempts to ground them in the transcendent authority of the god of Israel notwithstanding. Other culturally prominent principles of organization lay close at hand. Among them were the assignation of status based on wealth and skill in declamation. Both of these principles appear to have been utilized by some parties within the Corinthian assembly. Paul, however, did not accept those ranking systems, as both tended to devalue the characteristics and qualities that he himself claimed or appears to have possessed. In place of those culturally prevalent systems of evaluation, Paul proposed other evaluative schemes that privileged qualities and characteristics associated with the “gifts of God” in assignations of hierarchical preeminence—such gifts as Paul claimed to have received. His proposals effectively called for an inversion of schemes of hierarchical ranking with respect to evaluations of both positional and accorded status. Enlisting Carole Crumley’s notion of heterarchy, moreover, facilitates the critique and elaboration of Wayne Meeks’s now classic formulations on “status” and “status inconsistency.”
In his seminal work The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul, Meeks argued that status ought not be viewed as a single point on a one-dimensional scale of measurement, or even as the average of measurements on several different scales.1 Instead, it results from the interaction of social evaluations made in several salient areas, including—in Paul’s Romanized context—“ethnic origins, ordo, citizenship, personal liberty, wealth, occupation, age, sex, and public offices or honors.”2 Meeks points out that since status is a “multidimensional phenomenon,” in order to “describe the social level of an individual or group, one must attempt to measure their rank along each of the relevant dimensions.”3
In any given social context, it is possible, even likely, that people will be ranked more highly with respect to some variables and less highly with respect to others. The result is the situation of status inconsistency, which is uncomfortable both socially and psychologically. Meeks notes that many members of early Christian groups likely experienced this condition,4 and Paul was certainly no exception: was he to be assigned a social rank based on his role as a leatherworker, his public speaking skills—which by some accounts were less than impressive—or his claims to apostolic status?
Meeks’s analysis represents an advance over earlier views that tended to “regard an individual’s status as a single thing. One is high or low or middle or perhaps somewhere in between, but still measured along a single scale.”5 Correcting this “single scale” model, Meeks notes that “most sociologists have come to view social stratification as a multidimensional phenomenon.”6 Meeks’s formulations abandoned the “single scale” model in favor of what was in essence one based on multiple scales, such that he could write, “The generalized status of a person is a composite of his or her ranks in all of the relevant dimensions.”7 What is lacking in this formulation, however, is the notion that one’s rank could change over time or be subject to contest and negotiation.8 Meeks’s metaphors of “scale” and “measurement” need to be augmented through the addition of the categories of time, change, and contestation.
Meeks’s formulations remain valuable some thirty years after the publication of The First Urban Christians. We can, however, elaborate and refine those formulations by supplementing them with theoretical perspectives developed in the social sciences, particularly anthropologist Carole Crumley’s notion of “heterarchy,” which she introduced in 1979 in response to what she viewed as an overreliance on the concept of hierarchy in the study of complex societies.9 She writes: “Hierarchies (as opposed to other kinds of structured relations) are composed of ‘. . . elements which on the basis of certain factors are subordinate to others and may be ranked.’ . . . Yet many structures, both biological and social, are not organized hierarchically.”10 To account for “patterns of relations that are complex but not hierarchical,” Crumley enlists the notion of heterarchy, which “may be defined as the relation of elements to one another when they are unranked or when they possess the potential for being ranked in a number of different ways.”11 Heterarchy, however, does not necessarily connote the absence of systems of hierarchical ranking, inasmuch as it involves “the relation of elements to one another . . . when they possess the potential for being ranked in a number of different ways.” Rather, as Mark Mosko notes, it may entail “a multiplicity of ‘hierarchical’ or asymmetrical oppositions.”12
The distinction between hierarchy and heterarchy is to be drawn not on the basis of the presence or absence of hierarchically ranked elements, but on the basis of the stability and fixity with which those hierarchies persist. Heterarchy emphasizes aspects of process, modification, and change involved in sociopolitical systems. Distinct from hierarchical models in which elements are ranked in a fixed or static manner, heterarchy queries the “dialectical relation between ranked and counterpoised power.”13 It is in this dialectical relation that one apprehends process, as opposed to fixity, stability, and inflexible structure. Crumley calls for an examination of “the play between hierarchy and heterarchy: across space, through time, and in the human mind.”14 As Alison Rautman notes, the notion of heterarchy does not function as a precise analytical tool; it serves instead as a heuristic device that presses the researcher to “examine the specific social relationships among individuals and/or groups (or sites) to establish the way(s) in which power is constituted in that society, and how the definition and distribution of power(s) might have changed over time.”15
It is precisely the elements of process and dialectical “play,” and the examination of the ways in which “the definition and distribution of power(s) might have changed over time,” that are missing from Meeks’s notion of status inconsistency. Citing the work of Elizabeth Brumfiel, Rautman notes that heterarchy could take one of several possible forms in a given context, including systems in which elements within the sociopolitical aggregate (1) “operate independently of one another,” or (2) belong to “many different unranked interaction systems,” or (3) constitute “members in ‘many different systems of ranking’ such that the same element might occupy a different rank in each different system.”16 Clearly, the third possibility describes the situation of “status inconsistency” discussed by Meeks; it is the result of a system in which individuals and groups may be ranked in a number of different ways. According to Meeks’s formulation, status is a “multidimensional phenomenon,” and in order to “describe the social level of an individual or group, one must attempt to measure their rank along each of the relevant dimensions.”17 Meeks does not, however, address the issues of process and change that its proponents identify as the chief advantage of employing the notion of heterarchy.
In what follows, I elaborate and refine Wayne Meeks’s discussion of status inconsistency by drawing attention to the elements of process, change, and “the play between hierarchy and heterarchy” to which Carole Crumley’s writings have pointed. I accomplish this goal by analyzing the discourse that Paul uses in his attempt to invert two systems of sociopolitical ranking that effectively subordinated him to other individuals and groups within early Christian assemblies. In his letters to various early Christian assemblies, particularly that in Corinth, Paul crafts discourses that seek to invert systems of rank that tended to disadvantage him in relation to other influential agents within the assemblies. He seeks to overturn systems for the evaluation and assignment of rank pertaining to both positional status, which is associated with the fulfillment of a particular position or role within a sociopolitical field, and accorded status, or honor and prestige. In these discourses, the processual quality of the “play” between hierarchy and heterarchy is evident.
The discourse of gift exchange is, moreover, a fundamental element in the evaluative systems that he proposes. Paul’s claim to mediate gifts from the god of Israel, and a concomitant valuation of “spiritual” goods over material ones, enables him to orchestrate inversions of positional status. His claim that the “gift of the spirit” facilitates an inner transformation resulting in divine “glory” and an attendant devaluation of external characteristics in favor of internal ones is instrumental in his attempts to effect inversions of accorded status. His discourse on “the gift” bears important implications for the sociopolitical organization of the assemblies.
Paul’s promotion of a system of rank in which apostles were granted preeminent positional status (i.e., they rank “first”; 1 Cor 12:27–31) was no guarantee that his proposals would be accepted by all parties. Within the social milieu of the early Christian assemblies, other possibilities existed for the hierarchical ranking of positions. As Meeks indicated, wealth was a primary criterion by which status was assigned.18 This was true of Greco-Roman society in general. The first-century CE rhetorician Aelius Theon lists several characteristics that constitute suitable grounds for praising an individual: “good birth . . . education, friendship, reputation, official position, wealth, good children, a good death” (Exercises, 109–10).19 In the first century CE, individuals such as Seneca the Younger could achieve renown as lavish benefactors through distributions of their great wealth (Martial, Ep. 12.36; Juvenal, Satire 5.107–11).20 The fact that the moneyed Trimalchio was the object of satire in Petronius’s Satyricon indicates that wealth interacted with other factors in evaluations of prestige: most notably Trimalchio’s freedman status, his unrefined tastes, his evident lack of a formal education, and above all his penchant for ostentatious display.21 Although individuals had the potential to be ranked in a number of ways, wealth was an important criterion.
Under the influence of studies by Edwin Judge, Peter Lampe, Gerd Theissen, Peter Marshall, John Chow, and others, a consensus has emerged that patronage was operative in early Christian assemblies.22 Moreover, it is widely accepted that the standard system of ranking which elevated wealthy patrons over the recipients of their largesse, construed as clients, was operative there as well. The use of the criterion of wealth in assignations of rank, however, stood in direct contradiction to Paul’s own vision for the organization of the assemblies, with apostles assigned preeminent position. It is within this heterarchic situation, with all of its potential for instability, conflict, and change, that Paul deployed one of the classic tools for the mobilization of sociopolitical forces: discourse, and in particular, the rhetoric of inversion.23 Moreover, Paul strategically deployed the language of gift-giving in his proposal to invert the criteria used in assigning rank within the assemblies. A brief examination of Paul’s relations with two of the named patronal figures serves to illustrate the point.
Paul’s relationship with his patron Philemon, perhaps in the city of Colossae,24 represents a hierarchical inversion of the typical patron-client relation in which it is the wealthier party who enjoys a higher status. In his relationship with Philemon, it is not material wealth but purported access to “spiritual goods” that is most significant in defining the nature of the hierarchical relation.
It is clear that Philemon functioned economically as a patron to Paul. Philemon was the wealthier of the two, owning at least one slave (Phlm 16) and a “guest room” in which Paul requests temporary lodging on an impending visit (Phlm 22). Paul, on the other hand, claims often to have suffered indigence, going underclothed and underfed (1 Cor 4:11–12; 2 Cor 11:27), working night and day to meet his basic needs (1 Thess 2:9). His own economic position likely varied, at times slipping just below subsistence level, and at other times, rising near or slightly above it.25 Philemon clearly controlled greater economic resources than did Paul. Likewise it is clear that he put those resources—both his guest room and his slave—at Paul’s disposal. Normally, this state of affairs would indicate a patron-client relationship, with Philemon, as patron, in the dominant position. But Paul’s language in his letter indicates that this relational pattern had been inverted: the economically poorer Paul ranked higher than the wealthier Philemon. The hierarchical relation is indicated by Paul’s use of the language of command, in terms of both grammatical structure (i.e., his use of imperatives) and expressions euphemizing demands.
In several instances, Paul uses imperative verbs when addressing Philemon. As linguist F. R. Palmer notes of the imperative mode, “In fact it is the strongest of the directives, one that emanates from someone in authority, which, therefore, does not expect non-compliance.”26 Paul assumes a position of authority over Philemon when he commands him: “prepare me a guest room” (Phlm 22). The command occurs immediately following a reference to Philemon’s “obedience”: “Confident of your obedience, I am writing to you, knowing that you will do even more than I say” (v. 21). Paul presumes the compliance of Philemon in granting his request.
In other cases, the implications of the imperative for the authority structure involved are softened somewhat; one is preceded by a wish formula, and two occur in conditional statements. Regarding his implied request to be accompanied by Philemon’s slave, Onesimus, Paul writes, “Yes, brother, let me have this benefit from you in the Lord; refresh my sentiments in Christ!” (v. 20). The polite request to “let me have this benefit” (optative) is followed by the more forceful imperative: “refresh my sentiments!”
The final two examples occur in the context of conditional statements: “If you hold me as your associate, receive him as you would me. And if he has wronged you or owes you, charge it to my account” (vv. 17–18). In both cases, the fulfillment of the imperative in the apodosis is framed as contingent on the fulfillment of the condition expressed in the protasis. Like the use of the optative, this softens somewhat the authority structure implied in the imperatives, but does not remove it. Paul presents himself as using “soft power,” exercising an authority that obtains its desires by making polite requests rather than brusque demands. Nonetheless, the compliance of the subordinate Philemon is assumed throughout, as signaled above all by the reference to his “obedience” in v. 21.
The relevance of gift exchange to the hierarchical relation between Paul and Philemon is evident in vv. 18–19, where the former writes: “And if he [Onesimus] has wronged you or owes you, charge it to my account. I, Paul, write this with my own hand: I will repay it—not to mention that you owe me your very self.” Paul introduces the notion of gift-debt through his use of the rhetorical technique of paraleipsis, adducing information that might be painful or socially damaging to the addressee under the pretense of omitting it.27 In Paul’s view, Philemon “owed” him his “very self.” This statement is generally taken to be an allusion to the supposed effects of the preaching of Paul’s gospel, a positive response to which is purportedly able to save one from imminent apocalyptic judgment, or “destruction” (Rom 9:22–24; 1 Thess 5:3).28 As the Gospel of Mark indicates, life is a resource for which there is no adequate exchange: “What can people offer in exchange for their lives?” (Mark 8:37). Similarly, it would be impossible to render adequate compensation for the double favor not only of sparing life, but of prolonging it indefinitely in a future, heavenly existence, such as Paul’s gospel promised (1 Thess 4:15–17; 1 Cor 15:49–55). Although it is the god of Israel whom Paul represents as the ultimate provider of such gifts, under the conventions of patronage, those who brokered or mediated benefactions functioned as patrons to those whom their mediation benefited.29
The patronal logic that subordinated Philemon to Paul entails an inversion of normal patron-client relations. Normally, a patron offers material or monetary donations to the client, who responds with the linguistic countergifts of thanksgiving and praise, as well as personal services of various sorts. In such cases, it is material goods that are valued more highly. In the case of Paul, however, the situation is reversed: his linguistic goods in the form of preaching “the gospel,” since it entails promises of deliverance from apocalyptic “destruction” and eternal, heavenly life, are valued more highly than Philemon’s material goods (a guest room and a slave’s attendance). According to a materialist evaluation of the situation, Paul ought to be Philemon’s obedient client. Instead, he plays the role of authoritative patronage broker. In accordance with the logic of the patronage system, this role implies that he also served as patron to Philemon, to whom he had mediated benefactions.
It is difficult, however, to disaggregate Paul’s role as mediator of heavenly gifts from his claimed status as an apostle. Although the term “apostle” does not occur in the letter, it would be rash to conclude that Paul’s claims to apostolic authority played no role in the construction of the hierarchical relation between himself and Philemon.30 His claims to apostolic authority undoubtedly intersected with and reinforced the patronal logic evident in the letter. Both his role as mediator of heavenly gifts and his role as apostle effectively elevated his status in relation to other members of the assemblies. In both cases, the discourse of gift exchange was central: apostolic status was construed as a gift (1 Cor 3:10; 15:9–10; Rom 1:5) that entailed the role of mediating God’s gifts to others—with all of the ramifications for relative status implied therein.
A similar inversion of hierarchical preeminence occurs in Paul’s relation with Phoebe of Cenchreae, who by most accounts functioned as a patroness to the assemblies. Paul refers to her as prostatis, “patroness” to “many” within the assemblies, including Paul himself (Rom 16:1–2).31 He does not indicate what form her patronage took: perhaps she opened her home for assembly meetings, provided food for the Lord’s supper, donated funds, or hosted traveling emissaries from other assemblies. It seems likely that it is she who delivered Paul’s letter from Corinth to the early Christian assembly in Rome in 57 CE.32 Of interest is the fact that Paul recommends Phoebe to the assembly at Rome: “I recommend to you Phoebe, our sister, who is also a servant of the assembly in Cenchreae, that you might receive her in the Lord in a manner worthy of the saints, and that you might provide for her whatever she might need from you. For indeed, she has been a patroness [prostatis] of many, including myself.” Peter Lampe notes the incongruity:33
On the one hand, Phoebe was a “patroness” for Paul (16:2c). On the other hand, Paul was an apostle, the founder of the Corinthian church, and, in Rom 16:1–2, he writes a short letter of recommendation in favor of Phoebe. That is, he assumes the role of patron here, wanting to make sure that the Roman Christians receive her well and support her in all that she needs during her visit in Rome. Thus, the roles of patron and client were not static, vertical-dependency relationships in early Pauline Christianity, but could even be reversed.
Indeed, the reversal of status roles seems to have been prevalent in the assemblies connected with Paul. But the extent to which hierarchical relations were “not static” should not be exaggerated. In both of the examples we have considered, the positional status of apostle outranked that of patron or patroness: spiritual resources were evaluated more highly than material ones. Paul appears to have been consistent in his attempts to impose a social hierarchy that corresponded with this inverted evaluative system. Although the possibility for individuals to be “ranked in different ways” was endemic to the early assemblies, Paul seems actively to have encouraged one possible ranking system—that which privileged himself and those styled “apostles”—at the expense of another, based on wealth. He exploited a potentiality inherent in the heterarchic situation of the assemblies.
The situation is equally complex in the letters to Corinth and Philippi. Scholars have often postulated that in both cities, Paul faced systems of status evaluation in which material wealth constituted the privileged criterion (i.e., the “standard” patronage model). In this scenario, Paul sought to resist the implication that patronal donations of material goods carried any implication that he, as their recipient, should fall in status to the level of client. Peter Marshall has championed this idea with respect to Corinth, and Gerald Peterman with respect to Philippi.34
Briefly stated, Marshall argues that Paul resisted the demotion in status potentially entailed in the reception of hospitality in the form of room and board in the homes of wealthier patrons in Corinth. He did so, in Marshall’s view, by refusing to accept the hospitality of patrons in the assembly, incurring their social hostility as a result: it is bad form to refuse a gift, including hospitality freely extended. Thus in 1 Cor 9, Paul defends his “right” to receive room and board in particular households but gallantly refuses to “make use” of that right, preferring to work to cover his expenses instead.
Peterman argues that in Philippi, Paul resisted the implication that patronal donations could reduce him in status to the level of client, not by refusing to accept patronal gifts, but by asserting that the gifts were in fact “gifts to God,” rather than to Paul, and that God’s countergifts would more than recompense the Philippians’ material donations. In this scenario, Paul is construed as a proxy or broker between human donors and Israel’s god. On the basis of the logic that the “gifts of God” are of greater value than those of humans, Paul, as God’s proxy, is never reduced to the status of client vis-à-vis his human patrons in Philippi.35 The logic of Paul’s position is evident in his letter to the assembly at Philippi acknowledging his receipt of their gift—perhaps consisting of food, drink, and clothing—during a stint in prison in 54 CE:36
But you have done well by sharing in my distress. And you indeed know, Philippians, that at the beginning of the good news, when I came from Macedonia, no assembly shared with me in an account of giving and receiving except you alone, because even in Thessalonica you sent for my need more than once. Not that I seek the gift, but I seek the fruit that increases to your account. But I have received everything in full, and I am overflowing! I am filled up, having received from Epaphroditus the things that you sent: a sweet scent, an acceptable sacrifice, pleasing to God. And my God will fulfill your every need in accordance with his wealth in glory in Christ Jesus. (Phil 4:14–19)
In all likelihood, the donation that Paul had received in prison provided for his physical needs, as basic necessities in Roman prisons were often provided by friends, family, and supporters, not by jailers.37 He describes the donation in a manner analogous to sacrifices and offerings made in the Jerusalem temple: “a sweet scent [of roasting sacrificial meat], an acceptable sacrifice, pleasing to God.” Paul presents himself as a proxy or broker between the Philippians and Israel’s god; as a recipient of metaphorical sacrifices, he portrays himself in a role analogous to that of priests in the Jerusalem temple (e.g., Lev 2:1–2). By portraying gifts to himself as gifts to God, Paul evades any implication that donations made to him should reduce him to the level of a client or dependent. Paul is not reduced in status because he stands under no obligation to provide a reciprocal donation of goods or services: “my God will fulfill your every need in accordance with his wealth in glory in Christ Jesus” (v. 19). It is God himself who will provide the countergift, in Paul’s view. Although often, in a gesture of solidarity, he uses the first-person plural possessive pronoun when referring to God (“our God”; cp. Phil 4:20; 1 Cor 6:11; Gal 1:4), here he uses the first-person singular form (“my God”), indicating a proprietary claim, in the sense not of ownership, but of exclusive rights and privileged relations with Israel’s god. He portrays himself in the position of mediator in exchanges between humans and the divine.
The standard asymmetric relation, whereby donors whose gifts cannot be reciprocated by a (material) gift of equal or greater value are accorded a high status relative to that of the indebted recipient, is reversed in Paul’s scheme. Whereas the Philippians were able to provide for some of Paul’s material needs,38 Paul’s God is able to “fulfill your every need in accordance with his wealth in glory.” God is construed as a more lavish donor than the Philippians. An asymmetric relation is implied in Paul’s description of the exchange, and it is God, the lavish giver, who inhabits the position of relatively high status. Paul, as the mediator or “broker” in exchanges between God and humans, stands in an analogous position of relatively high status. According to the logic of the Roman system, patronage “brokers” are likewise construed as patrons to those to whom they mediate gifts. The members of the early Christian assembly in Roman Philippi cannot have missed the implication for Paul’s status in relation to their own.
Just as Paul was able to orchestrate inversions of positional status whereby wealthier patrons were effectively subordinated to less wealthy apostolic figures, he also attempted to orchestrate inversions in his accorded status, that is, with respect to the honor and prestige in which he was held. Attempts to effect inversions of his accorded status are most evident in the Corinthian correspondence, in which he proposes that the “gift of the spirit” potentially bestows cognitive faculties by which the typical criteria for the assignation of honor and prestige—criteria based on access to monetary wealth, freedom from the necessity of manual labor, and the display of superior oratorical skills—might be overturned and others, associated with the “gift” of access to supernatural wisdom and inner, spiritual transformation, set in their place. Deploying rhetoric of status inversion, Paul attempts to counter evaluations by which he was accorded shame and dishonor in Corinth.
It is clear that there were significant challenges to Paul’s honor in Corinth. First, his positional status as a craftsman, earning a living through the performance of manual labor, was a cause of offense for some wealthier members of the early Christian assembly in the city. Ronald Hock has noted the negative evaluations of artisans encountered in ancient sources, which reflect the elevated socioeconomic positions of their authors: “Stigmatized as slavish, uneducated, and often useless, artisans, to judge from the scattered references, were frequently reviled or abused, often victimized, seldom if ever invited to dinner, never accorded status, and even excluded from one Stoic utopia.”39 In 2 Cor 11:7, Paul tacitly admits that he had, in the perception of his auditors,40 “debased himself” (emauton tapeinōn) by working as a craftsman in Corinth.
Second, in a context in which wealth was an important criterion for the assignation of prestige, Paul, as an impoverished and homeless itinerant, was accorded shame and dishonor (1 Cor 4:10–12). Third, his activity as a traveling speaker “proclaiming the good news” invited evaluations of his oratorical skills. These evaluations were apparently quite negative.41 Some members of the Corinthian assembly reportedly complained that “his letters are weighty and strong, but his bodily presence is weak and his oratory is to be despised” (2 Cor 10:10). Lacking a vigorous “bodily presence” and impressive oratorical skills, Paul failed to garner prestige as an effective declaimer.42 Instead of being esteemed, his oratory was “despised.”
Examples in which Paul portrays himself as an individual accorded scant honor and prestige are not difficult to find in the Corinthian correspondence. A particularly striking example occurs in 1 Cor 4:10b–13:
We are weak, but you are strong; you are honored, but we are dishonored. Until the present hour we hunger and thirst, we are poorly clothed, we are slapped around43 and homeless, we labor, working with our own hands. . . . We have become like the world’s dirty dishwater, everyone’s soap scum until now.44
In this passage, evaluative criteria for the assignation of prestige based on access to wealth play a prominent role. Paul associates his economic position, which at times fell below subsistence level, with material implications including homelessness, hunger, thirst, and a lack of adequate clothing, and social implications including dishonor and physical abuse: he is “slapped around” by others, who do not expect him to be able or willing to retaliate. He depicts himself as socially debased, lacking all prestige: “like the world’s dirty dishwater, everyone’s soap scum.” Clearly, he depicts himself as one who is accorded a low status, in terms of honor and prestige, by some in Corinth.
Paul likewise describes himself as a figure lacking honor and prestige in 1 Cor 4:9: “For it seems to me that God has displayed us apostles last, as people sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle to the world, both to angels and to humans.” Henry Nguyen has convincingly located the cultural context of this passage in the Roman amphitheater, where condemned criminals (noxii), whose “fate involved some form of humiliating and aggravated death: by the sword [ad gladium], thrown to wild beasts [ad bestias], crucifixion, or being burnt alive [ad flammas or crematio].”45 As their deaths were often displayed in public forums, the bodies of the condemned functioned as “spectacles,” serving both to entertain the body politic and (paradoxically, to twenty-first-century sentiments) to preserve the “moral order” by displaying the swift and ineluctable outcome of transgressing publicly sanctioned norms.46 Nguyen also draws attention to the infamia (“ill repute”) associated with “subjecting [one’s body] before the gaze of others.”47
Similarly, when he catalogs a long list of infamies in 2 Cor 11:23–33, he portrays himself as someone who is accorded a low status on the basis of prevailing social standards. In a lengthy synkrisis, or comparison between himself and other traveling evangelists in Corinth,48 he writes:
Are they ministers of Christ? I am talking like a fool—I am a better one: with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless floggings, and often near death. Five times I have received from Jews [or “Judeans”] the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked; for a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from bandits, danger from my own people, danger from people of the nations, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers and sisters; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked. And, besides other things, I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I am not indignant?
If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. The God and Father of the Lord Jesus (blessed be he forever!) knows that I do not lie. In Damascus, the governor under King Aretas guarded the city of Damascus in order to seize me, but I was let down in a basket through a window in the wall, and escaped from his hands. (NRSV, modified)
The passage reads as a perverse encomium, consisting not of praiseworthy deeds, but of situations of shameful treatment (imprisonment, flogging, beatings with rods, stonings) and humiliating misfortunes (being shipwrecked, suffering hunger and thirst, being underclothed).49 Paul boasts,50 not of experiences that signal his “strength,” or sociopolitical efficacy and influence, but the opposite: his “weakness,” or sociopolitical inefficacy.51
The passage continues as Paul recounts an episode in which he was secretly lowered in a basket to the bottom of the city wall of Damascus in order to avoid capture by the local ethnarch under the Nabataean monarch Aretas IV (2 Cor 11:32–33).52 Edwin Judge has argued that the passage should be read as an inversion of the noble achievement, accompanied by glory and renown, of being the first to scale the city wall during a siege.53 Paul flaunts experiences by which he ought to have been accorded shame and disrespect according to prevalent evaluative criteria.
Paul, however, was not content to let evaluations by which he was accorded shame and disrespect stand as authoritative accounts of his worth. He crafted discourses in which he suggested that those who would unfavorably judge him ought to invert their evaluative criteria. Such an inversion occurs in 1 Cor 1:20–25, where he distinguishes the “wisdom of the world” from the “wisdom of God”; the two types of “wisdom” entail diametrically opposed standards for the assignation of honor and prestige:
Where is the wise person? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Hasn’t God made the wisdom of the world foolish? Since in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God saw fit to save those who are faithful through the foolishness of our proclamation, and since Judeans ask for signs, and Greeks seek wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a scandal to Judeans, and foolishness to the people of the nations—but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, it is Christ, the power of God and the wisdom of God, because the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.
In Paul’s view, God is not apprehended through “human wisdom.” The “wisdom of God,” which subverts (or “makes foolish”) human wisdom, is manifested above all in the “foolishness” and “scandal” of Paul’s proclamation of a crucified messiah. The scandalous character of this proclamation is indicated by a statement of the Roman senator and orator Cicero, who opined, “the very word ‘cross’ should be far removed not only from the person of a Roman citizen but from his thoughts, his eyes, and his ears. . . . The mere mention of such a thing is shameful to a Roman citizen and a free man.”54 But for those who are being saved, Paul writes, such proclamation represents “the power of God and the wisdom of God.” Proclamation concerning a crucified man, viewed from the perspective of the “wisdom of the world,” is both shameful and scandalous, but viewed from the opposed perspective of the “wisdom of God,” it is the “power of God,” mediating salvation from apocalyptic judgment to those faithful to its message.
The passage implies the need to invert typical evaluative schemes in two respects. First, the honor and prestige that were associated with powerful oratory and its concomitant, elite education, are reevaluated. Instead of elevating the “wise person” and “debater” in status, Paul asks rhetorically “Where is the wise person?” (i.e., of what value is he?) and suggests that “God made the wisdom of the world foolish.” Elite education, entailing training in the art of declamation55 and, in some cases, instruction in philosophical traditions,56 is devalued: “the world did not know God through wisdom.” Paul suggests an inversion of schemes in which rhetorical skill, education, and philosophical reasoning are highly valued: God has “made the wisdom of the world foolish.”
Paul’s inversion of the criteria for determining what constitutes “wisdom” is nuanced and elaborated in a discussion of the qualities associated with “strength” and “weakness.” Greco-Roman literature typically indicated that it was the wealthy, educated, and politically connected who constituted the “strong” of society; the poor, the uneducated, and those lacking any political office constituted the “weak.”57 Paul indicates that he approached the Corinthians “in weakness and fear, and with much trembling” (1 Cor 2:3). He mixes irony with a sober assessment of his lack of honor among some Corinthians when he writes: “We are fools for the sake of Christ, but you are wise in Christ. We are weak, but you are strong. You are held in honor, but we in disrepute” (1 Cor 4:10). Depicting himself as socially “weak,” Paul seeks, “like a Greek politician of old, to ‘bring the dēmos into his faction,’”58 by portraying the majority of the Corinthian community in similar terms:
Consider your calling, brothers and sisters: not many of you are wise according to human standards, not many are powerful, not many are high-born. But God selected what is foolish in the world in order to put the wise to shame; God chose what is weak in the world in order to put the strong to shame; God chose what is low-born and despised in the world—the “nobodies”—in order to reduce the “somebodies” to nothing,59 so that no one might boast in the presence of God. (1 Cor 1:26–29)
He suggests an inversion of criteria used to assign honor and prestige: the socially “weak,” generally denied honor, are those whom God has “selected” or “chosen” to be honored more highly: “God selected what is foolish in the world in order to put the wise to shame; God chose what is weak in the world in order to put the strong to shame.” The standard criteria for assigning honor are inverted.60
Paul’s reversals entail shifts in the criteria used to apportion honor. He suggests that the “gift of the spirit” carries the potential to effect a perceptual shift in the minds of its recipients. This perceptual shift entails a rejection of standard criteria for the allocation of prestige based on the world’s “wisdom” (i.e., philosophy) and eloquent public speech, and an adoption of criteria based on access to revealed wisdom. Two types of “wisdom” are distinguished, that “of God” and that “of the world” or “of this age.” Paul elaborates on the two types of “wisdom” in 1 Cor 2:6–9, where he states:
But we do speak wisdom among the initiated, albeit a wisdom not of this age nor of the leaders of this age, who are doomed to perish, but we speak God’s wisdom, hidden away in mystery, which God designated before the ages for our glory. . . . But as it is written: “Things that no eye has seen, nor ear heard, and have not occurred to the heart of humans; these things God has prepared for those who love him.”
Paul employs the language of mystery initiation, such as would be familiar to his Corinthian audience.61 The “initiated” were those who had undergone a ceremony, often nocturnal, in which a sacred drama was enacted for the initiates, whose perceptions and present state of being were purportedly transformed as the result of the experience.62 Through their participation in the drama, they came to identify themselves more closely with a particular god or goddess. After the ritual, initiates were forbidden to reveal to “outsiders” what they had seen. Paul’s presentation, however, is inflected by motifs from Jewish apocalypticism, where “mystery” may refer to secret knowledge about the apocalyptic judgment (cp. 1QpHab VII.5, 8, 14) or the suprahuman, immortal existence that was expected to become available following it (cp. 1QS IV.6–7; XI.3–9a). Paul’s apocalyptic wisdom was of a type “not of this age nor of the leaders of this age, who are doomed to perish,” but “God’s wisdom, hidden away in mystery,” which “no eye has seen, nor ear heard.”
Knowledge of God’s inaccessible wisdom could be granted only through divine revelation, as Paul opines in 1 Cor 2:10–13:
God has revealed to us through the spirit, for the spirit searches all things—even the deep things of God. For who knows more about a person than the spirit that is in him? Likewise, no one knows more about God [literally, “the things of God”] than the spirit of God. And we have received [elabomen], not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is from God, so that we might recognize the things bestowed on us [charisthenta hēmin] by God, and what we speak is not in words taught by human wisdom, but in words taught by the spirit, judging spiritual matters on the basis of spiritual criteria.
Paul reasons that a person’s “spirit” has unmediated access to information about that person and, by analogy, God’s spirit has unmediated access to information about God. Those who have “received” the “spirit of God” are capable of understanding things about God that are not accessible to human beings generally.
The “spirit” is portrayed as a gift: it can be “received” only from God. Paul frequently speaks of the spirit as a gift: it is “given” (Rom 5:5; 2 Cor 1:22; 5:5), “supplied” (Gal 3:5), or “sent” (Gal 4:6) by God (1 Cor 6:19) and “received” by humans (Rom 8:15; 2 Cor 11:4; Gal 3:2). The gift of the spirit enables humans to perceive “the things of God”—including the “deep things of God” mentioned in 1 Cor 2:10 and the “mysteries of God” in 1 Cor 4:1 (cp. 1 Cor 15:51). Similar knowledge of things divine is not available to those who have received only the “spirit” of the world: “in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through [merely human] wisdom” (1 Cor 1:21).
The “gift” of the spirit, in Paul’s view, bears important implications for the evaluative schemes that one might bring to bear in assessments of status:
But the unspiritual person [psychikos anthrōpos] does not receive the things of the spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him and he is not able to understand them, because they are judged spiritually. The spiritual person judges everything, but himself is judged by no one. For “who has known the mind of the Lord, in order to instruct him”? But we have the mind of Christ. (1 Cor 2:14–16)
The “unspiritual person” is unable to understand “the things of the spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him.” Conversely, “the spiritual person judges everything”—a panoptic vision permits judgment by one who is not susceptible to being judged.63 The “spiritual person,” in Paul’s view, possesses nothing less than “the mind of Christ.”
Aware that he has been the subject of negative evaluations in Corinth, Paul addresses the competence of those who would “judge” him. In 1 Cor 4:3–4, he writes: “It is insignificant to me, that I might be judged by you or by any human court—but I do not even judge myself. I am not aware of any strikes against me, but I am not thereby acquitted, for the Lord is the one who judges me.” He likens the judgment of his Corinthian detractors to that of a “human court.” According to the criteria he outlines in 1 Cor 2:14–16, however, merely human judgments hold no weight. Lacking the perceptual capacities endowed by the spirit and lacking too “the mind of Christ,” who stands as the prototypically competent judge (“the Lord is the one who judges me”), merely human tribunals are incompetent to evaluate “spiritual persons” such as Paul: “the spiritual person judges everything, but himself is judged by no one.”
It is such “unspiritual” judges, Paul implies, who attribute to him the sociopolitical “weakness” associated with his poverty, manual labor, and poor speaking skills and who believe, falsely, that “strength” is associated with wealth, wisdom, and eloquence. Such incompetent judges fail to recognize the reversal that Israel’s god has effected: “God chose what is low-born and despised in the world—the ‘nobodies’—in order to reduce the ‘somebodies’ to nothing, so that no one might boast in the presence of God” (1 Cor 1:28).
The series of inversions that Paul suggests in 1 Cor 1–4 subordinate the “wisdom of the world” to that of God, sociopolitical “strength” to sociopolitical “weakness,” impressive oratorical skills (cp. “the debater of this age”) to Paul’s “foolish” preaching, the high-born who are associated with inherited wealth to the low-born who live in poverty, politically connected “somebodies” to politically powerless “nobodies.” Under the terms of the inverted honor system that Paul suggests, the foolish “put to shame” the world’s wise, the weak “put to shame” the strong, and the nobodies “reduce the somebodies to nothing.”64
Moreover, Paul attempts to add legitimacy to the inverted honor system by identifying Israel’s god as its source and origin: “God chose what is weak.” Paul (mis)represents his proposed evaluative system as divine and transcendent in origin, thus attempting to place it beyond scrutiny or reproach.65 Conversely, he delegitimizes the evaluative system utilized by his Corinthian detractors by situating its sources and origins firmly within “the world.” The difference between the two systems, Paul implies, is analogous to that between heaven and earth, the divine and the (merely) human.
Paul is not content, however, simply to assert that Israel’s god had inverted the standards for assigning prestige and honor. He suggests additional criteria that ought to be taken into account in allocations of honor. Rather than viewing him from “the world’s” perspective, by which Paul appears as a poor, abused, and homeless vagrant, he suggests another way in which he might be viewed. He writes:
Let a person consider us as Christ’s attendants and stewards of God’s mysteries. In this case, moreover, it is desirable that stewards be found trustworthy [or “faithful”]. But it is an insignificant thing to me, that I might be judged by you or by any human court—but I do not even judge myself. I am not aware of any strikes against me, but I am not thereby acquitted, for the Lord is the one who judges me. Therefore, let no one judge prematurely, before the Lord comes, who will shine light even on things hidden in darkness, and who will make known the counsels of hearts—only then will each person receive praise [or “recognition”] from God. (1 Cor 4:1–5)
Paul’s invitation to “let a person consider us as Christ’s attendants and stewards of God’s mysteries” raises the issue of the evaluative standards by which Paul was being “judged” in Corinth. He suggests a paradigm for his detractors to consider, that of the “faithful” (or “trustworthy”) servant. As Paul is an “attendant” of Christ, it is only Christ who is qualified to render judgment on him, his subordinate: “the Lord is the one who judges me.” Unlike Paul’s detractors, who judge him on the basis of his “external” attributes, Christ judges on the basis of “internal” characteristics: he “will shine light even on things hidden in darkness, and . . . will make known the counsels of hearts.” On the basis of Christ’s evaluation, God himself will subsequently allocate praise (or “recognition”; 4:5) for “faithful” service. The possibility of divine “recognition” renders the merely “human” judgment of Paul’s Corinthian detractors insignificant by comparison: “it is an insignificant thing to me, that I might be judged by you or by any human court.”
Although Paul’s description of himself as an “attendant” implies a subordinate position, and “stewards” in many cases were slaves or former slaves, nonetheless those positions are not devoid of honor: he is the attendant of Christ and steward of the mysteries of God. As Thomas Schmeller notes, some of the prestige of patrons (or, we may add, masters) “rubs off” onto their subordinates.66 And Paul’s superiors bask in glory: the god of Israel, as the preeminent power in the cosmos (Rom 1:20), and Christ, as his second in command (1 Cor 15:24–28), through whom apocalyptic judgment will be meted out (Rom 2:16; 2 Cor 5:10). “Glory,” in the sense of honor and prestige, characterizes both Israel’s god (e.g., Rom 3:23; 4:20; 5:2; 11:36) and Christ, whom Paul describes as the “lord of glory” (1 Cor 2:8). Israel’s god can confer glory upon his human subordinates (Rom 9:23; 1 Cor 2:7; 2 Cor 4:17), provided they “patiently do good” (Rom 2:7, 10) or offer “faithful” service to God (cp. 1 Cor 9:24; 2 Cor 6:4; Phil 3:14).
In Paul’s view, Israel’s god accords glory (i.e., honor and prestige) according to criteria other than those typically used by human beings. Factors such as lack of wealth or of rhetorical prowess, which would lead to negative evaluations according to the “wisdom of the world,” run counter to the criteria used by Israel’s god. Distinguishing internal and external factors, Paul asserts that Christ, the agent of God’s judgment, assesses the inner human being, examining “things now hidden in darkness” and “the purposes of the heart.” Humans, in contrast, are consigned to judge by external appearances, such as Paul’s apparent lack of wealth and his amateurish declamatory style.67
The negative evaluations of Paul’s honor by some members of the Corinthian assembly, however, do not seem to have been ameliorated by the arguments that Paul presented in 1 Corinthians. On the contrary, the fact that he revisits many of the same issues with intensified sarcasm and irony in the later letters now known collectively as 2 Corinthians suggests that his arguments may have served only to embolden his critics. Salient among these developments are Paul’s comments in 2 Cor 4:7–18 and 12:9–10.68
In a perverse encomium similar to that in 1 Cor 4:10b–13, Paul lists characteristics by which he would be accorded scant honor on the basis of the evaluative standards of “the world” (i.e., those likely utilized by his detractors). But he adds an important element not present in his earlier catalog of hardships. Developing the external/internal dichotomy, he suggests that the internal should be accorded greater weight than the external in allocations of honor and likens his own external afflictions to the suffering of Jesus:
But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. . . . So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal. . . . We are not commending ourselves to you again, but giving you an opportunity to boast about us, so that you may be able to answer those who boast in outward appearance and not in the heart. (2 Cor 4:7–10, 16–18; 5:12 NRSV)
Paul likens the human being to a clay jar; the “outer nature” is subject to decay (cp. “wasting away”), while the “inner human being”—provided one possesses the gift of God’s spirit (2 Cor 3:17–18)—is “being renewed day by day.”69 The afflictions, perplexity, persecution, and experience of being “struck down” echo his list of ignominious experiences in 1 Cor 4:10–13. But, Paul suggests, to contemplate his dishonor is only to apprehend the “outer nature”; his “inner human being,” in contrast, is being prepared “for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen.” The “eternal weight of glory” for which Paul asserts that both he and his auditors are “being prepared” plays on the dual connotations of “glory,” which refers both to honor and prestige and to the luminescence characteristic of supernatural beings—a luminescence that he assumes will characterize God’s elect in the postapocalyptic, heavenly kingdom no less than it does the “glorious body” of the risen Christ (1 Cor 15:35–57). The “glory” for which Paul’s “inner human being” is being prepared is the counterpoint to the ignominious appearance of his “outer nature.”
The inner/outer dichotomy enables Paul strategically to draw an analogy between himself and Jesus. Paul’s “outer nature,” which he declares is “wasting away,” as evidenced by his afflictions, perplexity, and persecution, recapitulates the suffering of Jesus: he is “always carrying in [his] body the death [literally, “the process of dying”] of Jesus.” The external “process of dying” conceals the power and glory of God at work within both Jesus and Paul. In 2 Cor 13:4, he writes, “For indeed, he [Jesus] was crucified in weakness, but he lives by the power of God.” Paul claims a “power” analogous (albeit subordinate) to that of Jesus: he asserts that his implausible proclamation demonstrates the “spirit and power” of God (1 Cor 2:4)70 and that, even when absent bodily, his own “spirit” is present, mediating the “power” of Jesus during meetings of the Corinthian assembly (1 Cor 5:4). The “good news” that Paul preaches carries the “power of God for salvation” (Rom 1:16); he claims to have exhibited the “power of signs and wonders” in his itinerant mission (Rom 15:19).
The attribution of “weakness” to Jesus in his crucifixion, Paul suggests, rests on a misperception. Earlier, in 1 Cor 2:7–8, he had noted that “we speak God’s wisdom, hidden away in mystery, which God designated before the ages for our glory—a wisdom which none of the leaders of this age recognized. For if they had recognized it, they would not have crucified the lord of glory.” The “leaders of the age” failed to “recognize” the “wisdom of God,” to wit, that Jesus was the agent through which the apocalyptic judgment would be carried out (2 Cor 5:10) and that all beings would eventually be subjected to him (1 Cor 15:24–27). He whom the “leaders of this age” misperceived as “weak” was actually the “lord of glory” to whom “every knee will bow” (Phil 2:9–11) at the time of the apocalyptic judgment.
The implications of the parallel that Paul draws between himself and Jesus are clear: just as Jesus should not have been judged on the basis of his apparent “weakness” in being subjected to crucifixion, neither should Paul be judged on the basis of his apparent lack of wealth, his homelessness, or his amateurish declamatory skills. Instead, he should be evaluated on the basis of the “glory” that was manifested in his “inner human being.” In 2 Cor 3:18 he opines: “And we all, with unveiled face, perceive as in a mirror the glory of the lord, while we are transformed by successive stages of glory into the same image, just as from the spirit of the lord.” The “inner human being” of those who have received the “gift of the spirit” is “transformed by successive stages of glory” into the luminous image of the risen Jesus (cp. 1 Cor 15:35–57). Paul’s external image was characterized, in the eyes of his detractors, by “weakness” and ignominy, but his “inner human being” was undergoing a process of transformation into the image of Christ, the “lord of glory.” Although Paul’s “outer nature” manifested the “death” of Jesus, his “inner human being” mirrored the glory of the risen Christ.
Just as Paul developed and further nuanced in 2 Corinthians the external/internal dichotomy introduced in 1 Corinthians, he likewise developed the weakness/strength dichotomy. He develops the theme by connecting it with the language of benefaction. In 2 Cor 12:9–10, he reports a divine response to prayer in which God answers,
“My favor [charis] is enough for you, for [divine] power is perfected in [human] weakness.” Thus, I will instead gladly boast of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I revel in my weaknesses, when I am treated with insolence, in my calamities, when I am persecuted and in distress for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then I am strong.
In Paul’s view, divine power is “perfected” in human weakness. The implication, which Paul makes explicit, is that the very situations that result in his loss of social honor (insolent treatment, calamity, persecution) are those in which divine “power” is the most effectively present.
The paradox entailed in the notion of “strength in weakness,” however, is only apparent: two sets of evaluative criteria are at work in the formulation. The “weakness” attributed to both Paul and Jesus characterizes the faulty perception of “the world”; those who hold to such modes of vision, which apprehends only the “external nature” of the human being, are “doomed to perish.” Conversely, those whose perceptions have been transformed as the result of the “gift of the spirit” are capable of apprehending the “inner human being,” whose glory recapitulates that of Christ, the “lord of glory.” People capable of perceiving the “treasure in clay jars” exhibit the perceptual apparatus of “those who are being saved”; they have “the mind of Christ.” The two evaluative paradigms are not accorded equal legitimacy. The former constitutes a type of self-deception (cp. 1 Cor 3:18); the latter constitutes the perspective of transcendent beings: Israel’s god, Christ, and the “spirit.”
Through the skillful exploitation of dichotomies involving the external and internal, weakness and strength, Paul is able to suggest evaluative criteria for the allocation of honor and prestige that privilege the characteristics with which he was most closely associated in Corinth: lack of wealth, the performance of manual labor, physical abuse, itinerancy and homelessness, and apparent lack of skill in the art of declamation. Such marks of “weakness,” Paul proclaims, are the very ones that signal divine “power” at work within his “inner human being.” Moreover, by attributing to transcendent beings—God, Christ, and the spirit—the evaluative criteria that privileged characteristics that he appeared to possess, he effectively claims a more-than-human authority for his views.
Some evidence suggests that Paul’s rhetoric was effective in causing his detractors to abandon their perception of him as characterized by shame and dishonor. The “letter of reconciliation” in 2 Cor 1:1–2:13; 7:5–16, which many scholars take to be an originally independent letter stitched together with others to form canonical 2 Corinthians, indicates a period of détente between Paul and his detractors.71 This thawing of frosty relations likely persisted at least until 56–57 CE, when he wrote his letter to the Romans as a guest in the house of Gaius (Rom 16:23). However, in the realm of sociopolitical interaction, structure rarely triumphs fully over process: evaluations of Paul may have continued to occasion contest and disagreement, in the first century no less than in the twenty-first.
Paul consistently opposed the “standard” patronal paradigm that assigned relative rank in patron-client relationships on the basis of access to material wealth. In its place, he proposed an evaluative system in which spiritual rather than material resources constituted the more highly valued assets. A corollary of this evaluative system, both intersecting with and reinforcing it, was Paul’s scheme of hierarchical ranking in which apostles were construed as “first” in the assemblies. Paul consistently promotes an organization within the assemblies that recognizes apostles as having the preeminent rank and authority among evident participants. Peter Lampe’s conclusion regarding patronage within the assemblies bears consideration: “To summarize, in early Pauline Christianity, there were no clear-cut and rock solid static vertical relationships. Things were more dynamic.”72 The situation that Lampe describes is one of heterarchy: there certainly existed “the possibility of elements being ranked in multiple ways.” However, we should note that in every case recorded in Paul’s epistles, he actively resisted any implication that he, as an apostle, should accept a status subordinate to that of patrons or patronesses. On the contrary, there is every indication that he actively promoted an inversion of the “standard” patronal model. As he saw it, apostles should be ranked “first.” Paul was therefore an active agent both in exploiting and in suppressing the “dynamic” possibilities of heterarchy. He promoted a stable—and self-serving—model of sociopolitical relations, with apostles at the top of the hierarchy. Paul’s formulations were inflected by his own sociopolitical interests.
The discussion of the heterarchic possibilities endemic to early Christianity provides a vantage point from which Wayne Meeks’s notions of status inconsistency may be clarified and extended. When describing the “multidimensional phenomenon” of status, it is not sufficient simply to “attempt to measure their rank along each of the relevant dimensions,” as if such measurements and rankings might yield fixed and stable results. Rather, we see in Paul’s letters an intense contest and negotiation in which various parties attempted to promote evaluative systems based on the sorts of assets that each typically had at its disposal: the wealthy proposed systems of rank based on wealth; the evangelist proposed a system based on the “spiritual gift” of apostolic status. Each party attempted “to set the specific capital, to which it owed its position, at the top of the hierarchy of the principles of hierarchization.”73 The “multidimensional phenomenon” of status inconsistency was not simply the result of a number of “measurements” of fixed values, but a field in which both the systems of ranking and the values to be assigned constituted the subject of conflict, contest, and negotiation. Before we can attempt to “measure their rank,” we must carefully attend to the processes by which systems for the evaluation and assignation of rank were negotiated and contested.
Similarly, the evaluative systems involved in communal assessments of the honor and prestige of members were subject to negotiation and contest. Even while Paul prominently displayed himself as an individual lacking honor in the Corinthian correspondence, he actively sought to undermine the evaluative criteria by which he was assigned scant honor. In their place, he proposed a system in which the weak of the world—as he himself appeared to be—were accorded higher honors than the world’s “strong,” or sociopolitically dominant. Paralleling and nuancing the weak/strong dichotomy, Paul proposed that evaluations based on external appearances (e.g., wealth, oratorical skill) were inadequate, misleading, and merely “human,” whereas those based on knowledge of the “inner human being” were adequate, legitimate, and divine.
In Paul’s formulations, the notion of the gift plays an important role. The inversions of positional status in which wealthier patrons were subordinated to less wealthy apostolic figures such as Paul were based on three factors: (1) his claim to have received the “gift” of his status as an apostle; (2) his claim to mediate gifts from Israel’s god; and (3) the valuation of claimed spiritual resources more highly than material ones. The inversions of accorded status (i.e., honor and prestige) were likewise based on several factors: (1) the claim that the “gift of the spirit” facilitated an enhancement of evaluative capacities enabling its recipients to perceive supernatural qualities otherwise unrecognized; (2) the association of the “spirit” with divine “power” and “glory” not available to merely human agents devoid of the spirit; and (3) a valuation system that privileges claimed “divine” or “supernatural” characteristics over those characterized as merely “human.”
The data in Paul’s letters indicate that discourses of gift exchange provide linguistic resources of potential value for the orchestration of sociopolitical relations through the strategic manipulation of claims to mediate or possess gifts ostensibly transmitted by supernatural agents. When combined with the postulate that “spiritual” resources are more valuable than material ones, discourses of gift exchange provide “religious” agents with a means of access to enhanced social rank and prestige that rivals, and in some cases exceeds, that provided by material wealth. Theories of gift exchange thus do well to attend closely to the inversions of social rank and prestige made possible when “the gift” and “religion” intersect.