Friday, August 29
2 Corinthians 2.12—3.3: Paul proceeds to tell of his recent missionary trip to Troas (on the western coast of Asia, the region of ancient Troy), thus taking up the narrative broken off at the beginning of this chapter. He had hoped to meet Titus at Troas, to learn from Titus what had transpired in Corinth. Paul’s disappointment at failing to find Titus at Troas caused him, reluctantly, to abandon his ministry there and to sail over to Macedonia. We readers find Paul’s distress understandable. Until he should meet Titus and learn what had transpired at Corinth, Paul would be distracted, uncertain how the congregation reacted to his “letter of tears.”
But why did Paul go over to Macedonia? This is not difficult to discover. If we think of him languishing at Troas for some days, perhaps even weeks, we imagine it would have been natural for him to sail over to Macedonia, from which, after all, Titus was expected. We should bear in mind that the currents and wind patterns between Troas and Macedonia made an eastward voyage longer and more difficult than a westward voyage. Because the Black Sea is normally colder than the Mediterranean Basin (on the average of ten degrees), the faster evaporation in the latter causes a strong southwest current to run through the Dardanelles, seriously influencing the speed of travel between Asia and Macedonia. A trip from Troas required only two days (Acts 16:11), whereas the reverse might take more than twice that long (20:6).
Paul proceeds to bless God for this fortunate outcome, typical of the divine solicitude for man’s salvation. That is to say, in the recent difficulties at Corinth, the Lord had displayed the power of the Gospel itself. For both Paul and the Corinthians the Gospel had become a matter of empirical evidence and concrete experience. God had “triumphed over” them (thriambevonti hemas). This note touches the epistle’s major theme: God’s power made perfect in man’s weakness. Paul will speak incessantly of this “manifestation” (phaneroein — verse 14; 3:3; 4:10,11; 5:10,11 (bis); 7:12; 11:6).
Psalms 144 (Greek & Latin 143): I take this psalm to be a description of the present reign of Jesus our Lord, the Son of that very David to whom it is ascribed. By this I do not mean Christ’s reign solely in heaven, where He is enthroned at the right hand of the Power. This is not a psalm about heaven; it contains too much indication of conflict for this to be the case.
This psalm has in mind, rather, the reign of Christ over the faithful on earth, His dominion over our hearts. This is a psalm about life here below; heaven is the place above the present fray. It is the place from whence we hope to receive our help: “Lord, bow the heavens and descend; touch the peaks, and make them smoke. Flash forth Your lightning bolts and scatter them. Let fly Your missiles, and dismay them. From high above extend Your hand. Snatch me up and rescue me, from the flooding waters’ torrent, from the hand of foreign sons.”
On earth the reign of Christ in His saints is an experience of the both war and peace, which two components dominate, respectively, the first and second halves of our psalm.
Inasmuch as “all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution” (2 Tim. 3:12), the Christian life is properly thought of as combat. Thus, Jesus, as King, is also a military leader, God’s final answer to that ancient petition “that our king may judge us and go out before us and fight our battles” (1 Sam. 8:20). Thus, in this psalm we bless Him for teaching our hands to do battle and our fingers to make war, and for delivering us from the evil sword. In the words of the traditional Latin anthem, Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat—“Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ rules.” Such were the words sung by the martyrs, their blood poured out for Caesar’s pleasure. Those men, women, and children were not in doubt as to the identity of the true King.
Thus, the Christ who appears in the first half of our psalm is the One described by St. John: “Now I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse. And He who sat on him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and makes war. His eyes were like a flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns. . . . He was clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God. And the armies in heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, followed Him on white horses” (Rev. 19:11–14).
But Christ is also the Prince of Peace, the latter being the theme of the second half of our psalm. This part describes “the blessings of those whose God is the Lord.” However literally or figuratively we are to understand the sons like ripened shoots, the daughters like pillars in a temple, the full storehouses, the many sheep and fattened cattle, they all refer to the tranquility and prosperity of a well-governed realm. Such is the Kingdom of the Christ celebrated in this psalm.
Saturday, August 30
2 Corinthians 3.4-18: Paul has “confidence before God” (pepoithesis pros ton Theon), an expression that has no linguistic equivalent elsewhere in the Bible). He has this confidence “through Christ,” not from any self-sufficiency (verse 5). The infinitive logisasthai is better translated “to claim” than “to speak”: “We are not sufficient to claim anything” (compare 2:17). Paul’s competence comes from the God who commissioned his ministry (verse 6).
The Apostle introduces here his contrast of letter and Spirit (cf. Romans 2:27-29), which he will elaborate through the rest of this chapter.
What is perhaps most surprising in the first six verses of this chapter is Paul’s confidence in the Corinthian church, where he sees the activity of the Holy Spirit as the fulfillment of the prophetic promises in Jeremiah and Ezekiel. The Corinthians themselves are a testimony to the power and fruitfulness of his own ministry.
Paul them proceeds to contrast the Gospel ministry–the ministry of the Spirit–with the ministry of the Mosaic Law, a theme that runs through the rest of this chapter. Because “the letter kills,” he calls the Mosaic ministry “a ministry of death.” For someone that spent all his previous life in the study of the Torah, this is a very strong assertion. Paul is referring to his own experience; it had been his zeal for the Law that had led him into the sin of persecuting the Christians.
The Apostle also introduces now the expression “glory,” which as a noun or a verb (“glorify”) appears thirteen times in the remainder of this chapter. Even the ministry of the Law, he says, was possessed of glory. How much more the ministry of the Spirit? Compare the same form of argument in Romans 8:32).
Paul felt the “boldness” (parresia) displayed in what he had just written with respect to the Mosaic Law. After all, he had just referred to the dispensation of the Torah—the ministry of Moses himself—as “the ministry of death” and “the ministry of condemnation.” This was certainly bold speech for a rabbi who had spent his whole life in the study of the Torah!
Nor do these words of Paul convey the entire truth. Indeed, Paul was still working his way through this subject when he wrote 2 Corinthians. A year or so later he would give a more developed, nuanced treatment of this matter in his dialectical argument in Romans 9—11.
This boldness in speech Paul contrasts with Moses, who veiled his face so that the Israelites could not behold the fading glory of his countenance (verse 13; Exodus 34:30-35). In this context, in which the word “veil” (kálymma) appears four times, the “unveiled face” serves as a metaphor for boldness.
The expression eis to telos should not be understood as expressing purpose (“in order that”) but as expressing effect (“with the result that”). Otherwise, Paul would be accusing Moses of deceiving the people.
The fault, however, was not of Moses but of the Israelites. Here Paul has in mind less the Israelites of Moses’ time than the Israelites of his own day, those from whose synagogues, all over the Mediterranean basin, he and his companions had been expelled. These were the Israelites to whom the true face of Moses remained veiled. Satan, “the god of this world” (4:4), continued to harden their thoughts (noemata). This veil has become, in Paul’s argument, an internal covering of the mind, which prevents the correct understanding of “the Old Testament.” This is the only place in the Bible, we may note, that uses this last expression.
The “abolishing” (katargeitai) of which Paul speaks here refers to the veil, not the Old Testament. This is clear in verse 16, where Paul refers to the removal of the veil from the heart. No part of God’s Word is ever abolished or “out of date” (Matthew 5:17; Romans 3:31).
The Septuagint text of Exodus 34:34 throws light on this removal of the veil. It speaks of Moses taking the veil from his face when he “went in before the Lord to speak to Him.” It was in turning to the Lord that Moses’ veil was removed. Thus, says St. Paul, as soon as a man turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. This interpretation is important as it indicates Paul understood Jesus to be “the Lord” to whom Moses went in to speak. The Lordship of Jesus is, in fact, at the base of all Paul’s reflections here (cf. 4:5).
Sunday, August 31
Corinthians 4.1-15: Paul’s explanation of the “veil” on the face of Moses pertains to his own experience. This is why he shifts from the third person to the apostolic “we” at the beginning of chapter 4. His observations lead him back to the dominant theme of this epistle—power made perfect in infirmity. The “clay jars” means “in our body” (verse 10), “in our mortal flesh” (verse 11), “in us” (verse 12). Human beings, according to Genesis, are framed from the clay of the earth.
Nonetheless, Paul’s references here do not indicate a spirit/material contrast. The whole human person suffers the pangs of mortality, the soul as well as the body. Of himself, and considered entirely within his own resources, man is like the clay jars in which Gideon’s army carried the victorious flame. The contrast here in Paul is between human weakness and divine power, not between the body and the soul.
For Paul the apostolic experience was like a sustained sense of being put to death, but not quite. This sense of mortality, repeated in so many circumstances of Paul’s life and travels, is seen through the interpretive lens of the “dying” (nekrosis) of Jesus. The death and resurrection of Jesus are the paradigm of power made perfect in weakness (cf. 1 Corinthians 1:25-31).
Paul’s preaching is based on that faith. He understands what happens in his life through his deep communion with Christ (1:5; 13:4; Galatians 6:17; Philippians 3:10-11). This is the source of his “boldness.”
Psalms 150: Originally crafted by a descendant of Cain (cf. Gen. 4:21), musical instruments do not, perhaps, look very promising when first we learn of them. Moreover, there has often been something a bit problematic about such music, morally considered. When King Nebuchadnezzar employed “the sound of the horn, flute, harp, lyre, and psaltery, in symphony with all kinds of music” (Dan. 3:5) for his idolatrous purposes, it was not the last instance when instrumental music served to deflect men from the worship of the true God.
Yet, in fact, God rather early designated musical instruments as appropriate to His own worship in the tabernacle and the temple. And, once again, in the final book of the Bible we find heaven to be a place resonating with the sounds of trumpet and harp.
Moreover, as an added irony, instrumental music is eventually limited so exclusively to heaven that the damned are forever deprived of such music! The sinful descendants of Cain, the very inventors of harp and flute, will never hear them again, inasmuch as the “sound of harpists, musicians, flutists, and trumpeters shall not be heard in you anymore” (Rev. 18:22). These things are now reserved for the blessed.
Reflecting on that final hour of perfected humanity, the last of the canonical psalms calls forth the voices of all these instruments for the eternal worship of the true God. He is forever to be praised with the voice of the trumpet, the psaltery and harp, timbrel and dance, strings and bells, loud-sounding cymbals, cymbals of jubilation. “Let every breath praise the Lord.”
Monday, September 1
Joshua 22: After wandering in the Sinai and Negev deserts for most of a generation, the people of Israel had now arrived at a place called Shittim, just east of the Jordan River and only about ten miles from Jericho. Then came a new crisis.
It was a moral crisis, involving some Israelite men of slack discipline with certain Moabite women of relaxed virtue. Fornication was the problem, that term understood both literally and in the figurative sense of their falling prey to the idolatrous worship of the Moabite god, Baal of Peor (Numbers 25:1-3).
The seduction of these Israelites, moreover, was not a mere boy-meets-girl happenstance. It resulted, rather, from a deliberate machination on the part of the Moabites, plotting to weaken the military resolve and moral will of the Israelites. Indeed, there is reason to believe that the scheme had been concocted in the mind of the religious philosopher Balaam, who was at that time in the service of the Moabite king (cf. Revelation 2:14).
Seeing it happen, the young priest Phineas discerned the peril of the hour, for an earlier experience had taught him the hazards of moral compromise. If he was sure of anything at all, Phineas was certain that God’s punishment of sin was invariably decisive and might very well be swift.
Phineas had been hardly more than a child when he saw the divine retribution visited on two of his priestly uncles, Nadab and Abihu, for a single offense in the service of God. Nor had those been insignificant men who were thus punished. On the contrary, Nadab and Abihu, sons of Aaron and his heirs in the priesthood, were men of stature and respect among the people. They had accompanied Moses, their very uncle, as he began his climb of Mount Sinai (Exodus 24:1), and had partly shared in his vision of the divine glory (24:9-10). Nonetheless, Nadab and Abihu had been instantly struck dead, devoured by a fire from the divine presence for just one moral lapse (Leviticus 10:1-3). The memory of that swift retribution had seared itself into the memory of young Phineas. He knew by experience that Israel’s Lord was a morally serious God, not some feather of a deity to be brushed away at one’s convenience.
At the time of the Moabite crisis, then, the reaction of Phineas was utterly decisive and equally swift. Responding to the Lord’s decree to punish the offenders (Numbers 25:4-6), he resolutely took the matter in hand and thus put an end to the divine wrath already plaguing the people (25:7-15). For his part in averting the evil, Phineas came to enjoy great respect in Israel. Not long afterwards, for instance, he was the priest chosen to accompany the army advancing against the Midianites (Numbers 31:6). After the Conquest, Phineas inherited land among the Ephramites (cf. Joshua 24:33) and continued to be consulted by Israel, especially in times of crisis (cf. Judges 20:28). He would be remembered throughout the rest of biblical history, furthermore, as the very model of zeal in God’s service (cf. Psalms 105 [106]:30; 1 Chronicles 9:20; Sirach 45:23).
If we knew only of Phineas’s decisive action at the time of the Moabite trouble, it might be easy to think of him solely as an energetic, resolute, executive sort of man, but this would be an incomplete perspective. Phineas was also a thoughtful person, able to consider a delicate question in its fully nuanced complexities.
This latter trait of his character was revealed in the crisis later created by the construction of an altar to the east of the Jordan River by the Israelites who lived in that region (Joshua 22:10). Regarded as a rival altar outside of the strict confines of the Holy Land, this construction proved so provocative to the rest of Israel that there arose the real danger of civil war (22:12). Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, and the decision was made to establish an eleven-member committee of inquiry to investigate the matter. Phineas was the head of that committee (22:13-14).
Probing into the construction of that altar, Phineas’s committee concluded that it was not intended to be used as such, but would serve merely as a monument to remind all the Israelites of their solidarity in the worship of their one God. Civil war was thus averted, and Phineas, once so swift unto bloodshed, was thus in large measure responsible for preventing it (22:21-34).
Tuesday, September 2
2 Corinthians 5:15-21: As in 3:1, Paul again fears lest his comments be understood as self-promotion, which would be most unseemly. He wants the Corinthians to know his heart, nonetheless, and not emulate those who judge by appearances. The Apostle is implicitly admitting here that he has not always “looked good.” Some of his experiences have been ecstatic (verse 13; 12:1-7), a point on which, it would appear, certain opponents have been critical of him. No matter, says Paul, such experiences have been God-ward. When, however, he speaks rationally, it is man-ward. Paul made the same distinction the previous year (1 Corinthians 14:2,28). It is not clear in the present text whether Paul has been criticized for his ecstatic experiences or for his apparent lack of them. Either sense will fit the context.
Verse 14 means, “the love of God grabs us” (or “grips” us—synechei). This is the love manifest in his dying for us (Galatians 2:20). “All have died” in the sense that those who are gripped by the love of Christ no longer live for themselves but for Him who purchased them with His blood (verse 15; Romans 5:10).
What we have in Christ is a new existence, no longer “according to the flesh.” Before his conversion Paul had known Christ “according to the flesh”—that is, not according to faith. All that, however, is now gone. Paul will not know anyone except in the faith of Christ. The love of Christ gives the believer a new way of knowing people. Being “in Christ” is a new mode of existence (verse 17; Galatians 6:16). Paul’s vocabulary here seems borrowed from the second part of the Book of Isaiah (for example, 43:18-19; 48:5; 65:17; 66:22), which he will cite presently in 6:2 (Isaiah 49:8).
The Christian ministry is essentially a ministry of reconciliation, in which the reconciliation effected on the Cross is applied and brought to bear on the lives and hearts of human beings (verses 18-19; Galatians 1:12-16). Paul makes such an application now.
The expression that Christ was made “sin (hamartia) for us” is open to more than one meaning (verse 21). It may mean that Christ, though not a sinner, assumed the condition of a sinner in order to represent all sinners. It may also mean that Christ became a “sin offering” (which is the meaning of hamartia as it appears in the Greek text of Leviticus 4). In either case the meaning is soteriological. By Christ’s becoming “sin,” we become “the righteousness of God.”
Wednesday, September 3
Luke 3.1-22: Postponing his infancy/childhood stories until Advent, we now commence Luke’s Gospel at chapter 3, where he records the testimony of John the Baptist. This part ends with John’s baptism of Jesus.
In Luke’s account of it, that event is contained in a single, condensed, and tightly constructed sentence:
Now it happened, when all the people were baptized, and Jesus—having been baptized—was praying, that heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit, in bodily form like a dove, came down upon him, and there was a voice from heaven: “You are My beloved Son; in you I am well pleased (3:21-22).
In this Lukan account, six details of the baptism seem especially worthy of attention:
First, John the Baptist is not mentioned in the scene at all; Luke, having already spoken of John’s arrest (Luke 3:20), leaves him out of the baptismal story completely.
Second, the baptism itself is not Luke’s central concern. Indeed, it has already happened and is mentioned only in a subordinate expression: “having been baptized.” Luke’s focus is directed, not to the baptism, but to Jesus’ experience of the Father and the Holy Spirit.
Third, Jesus’ baptism is not isolated from that of the other people: “. . . when all the people were baptized . . .” The evangelist’s stress on this point indicates Jesus’ solidarity with the rest of humanity.
This emphasis is important to Luke’s theology of the Incarnation. In the immediate context, Jesus’ organic solidarity with the human race is addressed by Luke’s inclusion—immediately after the baptism—of the Savior’s genealogy, in which his ancestry is traced all the way back to Adam (Luke 3:23-38). In other words, the mention of “the people,” in this baptismal scene, pertains to Luke’s larger interest in the humanity of Jesus: He is at one with the whole human race, descended from the fallen Adam.
Fourth, only Luke speaks of the Savior at prayer in the baptismal story: “. . . Jesus—having been baptized—was praying . . .” This is the first of many times Luke describes Jesus communing with God as other human beings commune with God—namely, by prayer.
Fifth, Luke emphasizes the visible way the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus: “. . . the Holy Spirit, in bodily form (somatiko eidei) like a dove, came down upon him . . .”
Although Luke has already made the activity of the Holy Spirit thematic in his version of the Gospel, a particular theological note attends the Spirit’s appearance here in the baptismal scene—namely, the baptism is portrayed as Jesus’ public anointing by the Holy Spirit. Jesus will soon speak of this “anointing,” when, in the first words of his public ministry—and quoting the Book of Isaiah—he announces, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, / Because He has anointed me” (4:16; Isaiah 61:1).
The Spirit’s baptismal anointing of Jesus is theologically decisive for Luke. It is, in fact, the chronological starting point of the apostolic message (cf. Acts 1:21-22). In respect to Jesus’ baptismal anointing, moreover, Luke will later quote St. Peter’s assertion that the Gospel itself
began from Galilee after the baptism which John preached: how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power, who went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him (Acts 10:37-38 emphasis added).
Sixth, in Luke’s version of the baptism—as in Mark’s—the voice of the Father addresses Jesus directly. It does so twice: “You are my beloved Son; in you I am well pleased.” We take note of the vigorously repeated I/you structure.
The proclamation of Jesus’ sonship hardly comes as “news” to Luke’s readers, of course, who recall the announcement of Gabriel to Mary:
The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Highest will overshadow you; therefore, also, that Holy One who is to be born will be called the Son of God (Luke 1:35).
Let us insist that this experience of identification did not come to Jesus as “fresh information.” The Father’s word here should not be understood as Jesus’ “calling,” in the sense familiar to the Hebrew prophets. Jesus already knew he was called, and he already knew the identity of His Father. Eighteen years earlier, he had asked his parents, “Why did you seek me? Did you not know that I must be about the things of my Father?” (Luke 2:49 emphasis added)
In the baptism, the Father’s voice expresses, rather, a heightened reassurance to Jesus, the sign that his ministry should now begin. As the Apostle Peter remarked of this scene, “God was with him” (Acts 10:38). The Father’s word is the encouraging answer to Jesus’ prayer at the baptism. It conveys the Father’s presence and loving approval. In short, Luke’s version of the baptism lays the accent on Jesus’ personal experience of communion with his Father, a communion sustained right up to the death scene, where Jesus twice invokes God as “Father” (Luke 23:43, 46).
Thursday, September 4
2 Corinthians 6:1-10: In the previous chapter Paul had exhorted the Corinthians to be reconciled to God (5:20), right after proclaiming that God in Christ had reconciled them to Himself (5:18). That is to say, there is a sense in which the reconciling work of God for man does not preclude, but rather calls for, man’s own act of being reconciled to God. Even this latter act, however, is something man can do only under the influence of divine grace. This is indicated by the passive voice of the verb: “Be reconciled.” What God does, then, does not preclude the work of man. On the contrary, it invites and enables the work of man. It is a “cooperation.”
Paul continues this theme of “cooperation” (in Latin) or synergism (in Greek) in the exhortation that commences the present chapter: “In cooperation (synergountes), therefore, we exhort you not to receive the grace of God in vain.” The cooperation here appears to be twofold. First, Paul cooperates (literally, “works together with”) God, inasmuch as he is God’s ambassador (5:10; 1 Corinthians 3:9); his preaching is authorized and enabled by God.
Second, the Corinthians are not to let God’s grace go “for naught” (literally, “unto empty”—eis kenon). Not receiving God’s grace in vain is a specification of “be reconciled.” That is to say, what God does for man is not the complete story; man must also do certain things, so that God’s grace will not be “in vain.” In the several verses referring to his own experience, Paul hints at what some of these things may be. They form a pretty tough narrative of what it is to “cooperate” with God.
As indicated by the aorist tense of the Greek verb “to receive,” Paul is not thinking of repeated, continuous conversion; he is summoning the Corinthians, rather, to a decisive act made in the “now” of the divine summons. It is this act of decision that renders any day “the day of salvation.”
Paul then turns to a description of the conditions and circumstances of his ministry. This section, apologetic and given in answer to the critics of that ministry, contains the second such description (cf. 4:8-9), and two more will follow (11:23-29; 12:10. Elsewhere, cf. 1 Corinthians 4:10-13; Philippians 4:12; Romans 8:35,38-39). In all such descriptions we see Paul feeding on his inner communion with God in Christ. That is what separates these “autobiographical lists” from the Stoic and Jewish apologetic lists with which they are sometimes compared (cf. 4:10-11).
Friday, September 5
Luke 4:1-13: Students of Holy Scripture have long recognized that Matthew and Luke describe Jesus’ temptations in a way that contrasts His obedience in the desert with the disobedience of ancient Israel.
Both evangelists, in spite of the differently arrangements of their narrative sequences, apparently relied on a common source, according to which our Lord quoted the Book of Deuteronomy in response to each of the three temptations. This sustained appeal to the final book of the Torah—invoked as a weapon to resist temptation—summons the memory of Israel’s moral failings during its forty years of desert wandering.
The immediate context of the accounts furthers this purpose: The parallel between Jesus’ Baptism and the passage through the Red Sea is followed immediately by the correspondence between the temptations of Jesus and Israel in the desert. (Mark also adheres to this sequence.)
Jesus meets the first temptation—“If You are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread”—by declaring, “Man shall not live by bread alone.” This verse is lifted from the middle of Deuteronomy 8:1-6, which refers to ancient Israel’s murmuring at the loss of their (alleged) better diet in Egypt (Exodus 16; Numbers 11).
Jesus answers the second temptation—the promise of world domination in exchange for fealty to Satan—by affirming, “You shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only you shall serve.” This verse appears within Deuteronomy 6:10-15, in reference to Israel’s repeated disposition to seek advantage by worshipping alien gods (12:30-31; Exodus 23:23-33).
Jesus responds to the third temptation—“Throw yourself down from here”—by proclaiming, “You shall not tempt the Lord your God.” This text, Deuteronomy 6:16, refers to Israel’s constant disposition to tempt the Lord in the desert (cf. Exodus 17:1-7).
In all His temptations in the wilderness, then, the faithful response of Jesus is placed in direct contrast to Israel’s infidelity during those forty sinful years of wandering.
2 Corinthians 6.11—7.1: The Apostle takes up in this section a very practical matter—marriage. This subject is so unexpected in the context that some scholars speculate that it slipped out of place in the manuscript transmission. This speculation, I believe, is unwarranted. It seems more reasonable to suppose that the harmful effects of “mixed marriages” may lie at the heart of the problems that Paul is having at Corinth. This would explain why the treatment of this subject appears in this apologetic section of the epistle.
In a previous letter to Corinth, a year or so earlier, Paul had been obliged to deal with the problems that arose when a man or woman, after their conversion to Christ, was consequently abandoned by an unbelieving spouse (1 Corinthians 7:12-17). His directions at that time had concerned only marriages formed prior to someone’s conversion. However, a different sort of problem has since arisen at Corinth. Now there is question of a Christian taking a non-Christian wife.
Paul perceives a problem already addressed specifically in the Scriptures of God’s People. Although in earlier periods of biblical history relatively little attention had been given to marriage with pagans—especially when a Jewish man married a non-Jewish wife—Israel’s religious leaders became more pastorally sensitive to such situations during the Babylonian Captivity (587-538) and the following centuries. Paul’s position is essentially that of Ezra and Nehemiah: Don’t!