CHAPTER VII

REDEMPTION IN PAGAN RELIGION AND IN PAUL

It has been observed thus far that in comparing Paul with

Hellenistic pagan religion, the question of priority cannot be

ruled out so easily as is sometimes supposed. Another preliminary

question, moreover, remains. Through what channels did the supposed

influence of the mystery religions enter into the life of Paul?

The question is somewhat perplexing. In view of the outline of

Paul's life which was set forth in Chapters II and III, it would

seem difficult to find a place for the entrance of pagan religious

thought.

One suggestion is that pagan thought came to Paul only through the

medium of Judaism. That suggestion would explain the consciousness

that Paul attests of having been, before his conversion, a devout

Jew. If pagan religion had already entered into the warp and woof

of Judaism, and if the throes of the process of assimilation had

already been forgotten before the time of Paul, then Paul might

regard himself as a devout Jew, hostile to all pagan influence, and

yet be profoundly influenced by the paganism which had already found

an entrance into the Jewish stronghold.

But the trouble is that with regard to those matters which are

thought to be necessary for the explanation of Paul's religion there

is no evidence that paganism had entered into the common life of

the Jews. It has been shown in Chapter V that the Judaism of the

first century, as it can be reconstructed by the use of the extant

sources, is insufficient to account for the origin of Paulinism.

That fact is admitted by those scholars who are having recourse to

the hypothesis of pagan influence. Therefore, if the pagan influence

came to Paul through the medium of Judaism, the historian must first

posit the existence of a Judaism into which the necessary pagan

elements had entered. There is no evidence for the existence of

such a Judaism; in fact the extant Jewish sources point clearly

in an opposite direction. It is exceedingly difficult, therefore,

to suppose, in defiance of the Jewish sources, and in the mere

interests of a theory as to the genesis of Paulinism, that the

Pharisaic Judaism from which Paul sprang was imbued with a mystical

piety like that of the mystery religions or of Hermes Trismegistus.

In fact, in view of the known character of Pharisaic Judaism, the

hypothesis is nothing short of monstrous.

Therefore, if Paul was influenced by the pagan mystery religions

it could not have been simply in virtue of his connection with

first-century Judaism; it must have been due to some special

influences which were brought to bear upon him. Where could these

influences have been exerted? One suggestion is that they were

exerted in Tarsus, his boyhood home. Stress is thus laid upon the

fact that Paul was born not in Palestine but in the Dispersion. As

he grew up in Tarsus, it is said, he could not help observing the

paganism that surrounded him. At this point, some historians, on

entirely insufficient evidence, are inclined to be specific; they

are tempted, for example, to speak of mysteries of Mithras as being

practised in or near Tarsus in Paul's early years. The hypothesis

is only weakened by such incautious advocacy; it is much better to

point merely to the undoubted fact that Tarsus was a pagan city and

was presumably affected by the existing currents of pagan life.

But if Paul grew up in a pagan environment, was he influenced by

it? An affirmative answer would seem to run counter to his own

testimony. Although Paul was born in Tarsus, he belonged inwardly

to Palestine; he and his parents before him were not "Hellenists"

but "Hebrews." Moreover, he was a Pharisee, more exceedingly zealous

than his contemporaries for his paternal traditions. The evidence

has been examined in a previous chapter. Certainly then, Paul was

not a "liberal" Jew; far from being inclined to break down the wall

of partition between Jews and Gentiles he was especially zealous

for the Law. It is very difficult to conceive of such a man--with

his excessive zeal for the Mosaic Law, with his intense hatred of

paganism, with his intense consciousness of the all-sufficiency of

Jewish privileges--as being susceptible to the pagan influences that

surrounded his orthodox home.

The hypothesis must, therefore, at least be modified to the extent

that the pagan influence exerted at Tarsus be regarded as merely

unconscious. Paul did not deliberately accept the pagan religion of

Tarsus, it might be said, but at least he became acquainted with it,

and his acquaintance with it became fruitful after he entered upon

his Gentile mission. According to this hypothesis, the attitude of

Paul toward pagan religion was in the early days in Tarsus merely

negative, but became more favorable (whether or no Paul himself

was conscious of the real source of the pagan ideas) because of

subsequent events. But what were the events which induced in Paul a

more favorable attitude toward ideas which were really pagan? When

did he overcome his life-long antagonism to everything connected

with the worship of false gods? Such a change of attitude is

certainly not attested by the Epistles.

It will probably be admitted that if pagan influence entered into

the heart of Paul's religious life it could only have done so by

some more subtle way than by the mere retention in Paul's mind of

what he had seen at Tarsus. The way which finds special favor among

recent historians is discovered in the pre-Pauline Christianity of

cities like Damascus and Antioch. When Paul was converted, it is

said, he was converted not to the Christianity of Jerusalem, but to

the Christianity of Damascus and Antioch. But the Christianity of

Damascus and Antioch, it is supposed, had already received pagan

elements; hence the very fact of Paul's conversion broke down his

Jewish prejudices and permitted the influx of pagan ideas. Of course

Paul did not know that they were pagan ideas; he supposed that

they were merely Christian; but pagan they were, nevertheless. The

Hellenistic Jews who founded the churches at Damascus and Antioch,

unlike the original apostles at Jerusalem, were liberal Jews,

susceptible to pagan influence and desirous of attributing to Jesus

all that the pagans attributed to their own cult-gods. Thus Jesus

became a cult-god like the cult-gods of the pagan religions, and

Christianity became similar, in important respects, to the pagan

cults.

This hypothesis has been advocated brilliantly by Heitmüller and

Bousset.[183] But what evidence can be adduced in favor of it? How

may the Christianity of Damascus and Antioch, which is supposed

to have been influenced by pagan religion, be reconstructed? Even

Heitmüller and Bousset admit that the reconstruction is very

difficult. The only unquestioned source of information about the

pre-Pauline Christianity which is the subject of investigation is to

be found in the Pauline Epistles themselves. But if the material is

found in the Pauline Epistles, how can the historian be sure that it

is not the product of Paul's own thinking? How can the specifically

Pauline element in the Epistles be separated from the element which

is supposed to have been derived from pre-Pauline Hellenistic

Christianity?

[183] See especially Heitmüller, "Zum Problem Paulus und Jesus," in

_Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft_, xiii, 1912,

pp. 320-337; "Jesus und Paulus," in _Zeitschrift für Theologie und

Kirche_, xxv, 1915, pp. 156-179; Bousset, _Jesus der Herr_, 1916,

pp. 30-37.

The process of separation, it must be admitted, is difficult. But,

according to Bousset and Heitmüller, it is not impossible. There are

passages in the Epistles where Paul evidently assumes that certain

things are known already to his readers. In churches where Paul

himself had not already had the opportunity of teaching, notably

at Rome, those elements assumed as already known must have been

derived, it is said, from teachers other than Paul; they must have

formed part of the pre-Pauline fund of Hellenistic Christianity.

But in order to reconstruct this pre-Pauline Hellenistic

Christianity, it is not sufficient to separate what Paul had

received from what he himself produced. Another process of

separation remains; and this second process is vastly more difficult

than the first. In order to reconstruct the Hellenistic Christianity

of Antioch, upon which Paulinism is thought to be based, it is

necessary not only to separate what Paul received from what he

produced, but also to separate what he received from Antioch from

what he received from Jerusalem. It is in connection with this

latter process that the hypothesis of Heitmüller and Bousset

breaks down. Unquestionably some elements in the Epistles can be

established as having been received by Paul from those who had been

Christians before him. One notable example is found in 1 Cor. xv.

1-7. In that all-important passage Paul distinctly says that he

had "received" his account of the death, burial, and resurrection

of Jesus. But how does Bousset know that he received it from the

Church at Antioch or the Church at Damascus rather than from the

Church at Jerusalem? Paul had been in intimate contact with Peter

in Jerusalem; Peter is prominent in 1 Cor. xv. 1-7. What reason is

there, then, for deserting the common view, regarded almost as an

axiom of criticism, to the effect that 1 Cor. xv. 1-7 represents the

tradition of the Jerusalem Church which Paul received from Peter?

Moreover, what right have Bousset and Heitmüller to use the Epistle

to the Romans in reconstructing the Christianity of Antioch? Even

if in that Epistle the elements of specifically Pauline teaching

can be separated from those things which Paul regards as already

matter of course in the Roman Church, what reason is there to assume

that the pre-Pauline Christianity of Rome was the same as the

pre-Pauline Christianity of Antioch and Damascus? Information about

the pre-Pauline Christianity of Antioch and Damascus is, to say the

least, scanty and uncertain. And it is that Christianity only--the

Christianity with which Paul came into contact soon after his

conversion--and not the Christianity of Rome, which can be of use in

explaining the origin of Paul's religion.

Finally, what reason is there for supposing that the Christianity

of Damascus and Antioch was different in essentials from the

Christianity of Jerusalem? An important step, it is said, was taken

when the gospel was transplanted from its native Palestinian soil

to the Greek-speaking world--the most momentous step in the whole

history of Christianity, the most heavily fraught with changes. But

it must be remembered that the primitive Jerusalem Church itself

was bilingual; it contained a large Greek-speaking element. The

transplanting of the gospel to Antioch was accomplished not by any

ordinary Jews of the Dispersion, but by those Jews of the Dispersion

who had lived at Jerusalem and had received their instruction from

the intimate friends of Jesus. Is it likely that such men would

so soon forget the impressions that they had received, and would

transform Christianity from a simple acceptance of Jesus as Messiah

with eager longing for His return into a cult that emulated the

pagan cults of the surrounding world by worship of Jesus as Lord?

The transition, if it occurred at all, occurred with astonishing

rapidity. Paul was converted only two or three years after the

crucifixion of Jesus. If, therefore, the paganizing Hellenistic

Christianity of Damascus and Antioch was to be the spiritual soil

in which Paul's religion was nurtured, it must have been formed in

the very early days. The pagan influences could hardly have begun

to enter after the conversion of Paul.[184] For then Paul would have

been conscious of their entrance, and all the advantages of the

hypothesis would disappear--the hypothesis would then be excluded

by the self-testimony of Paul. But the formation of a paganizing

Christianity at Antioch and Damascus, in the very early days and by

the instrumentality of men who had come under the instruction of

the intimate friends of Jesus, and despite the constant intercourse

between Jerusalem and the cities in question, is very difficult to

conceive. At any rate, the separation between what Paul received

from Antioch and Damascus and what he received from Jerusalem is

quite impossible. Heitmüller and Bousset have not really helped

matters by trying to place an additional link in the chain between

Paul and Jesus. The Hellenistic Christianity of Antioch, supposed to

be distinct from the Christianity of Jerusalem, is to say the least

a very shadowy thing.

[184] But compare Bousset, _op. cit._, p. 32.

But Bousset and Heitmüller probably will not maintain that all the

pagan influences which entered the life of Paul entered through the

gateway of pre-Pauline Hellenistic Christianity. On the contrary,

it will probably be said that Paul lived all his life in the midst

of a pagan religious atmosphere, which affected him directly as

well as through the community at Antioch. But how was this direct

pagan influence exerted? Some suppose that it was exerted through

the reading of pagan religious literature; others suppose that it

came merely through conversation with "the man in the street." Paul

desired to become all things to all men (we are reminded), in order

that by all means he might save some (1 Cor. ix. 22). But what was

more necessary for winning the Gentiles than familiarity with their

habits of thought and life? Therefore, it is said, Paul must have

made some study of paganism in order to put his proclamation of the

gospel in a form which would appeal to the pagans whom he sought to

win.

A certain element of truth underlies this contention. It should

not be supposed that Paul was ignorant of the pagan life that

surrounded him. He uses figures of speech derived from the athletic

games; here and there in his Epistles he makes reference to the

former religious practices of his converts. It is not unnatural

that he should occasionally have sought common ground with those

to whom he preached, in accordance with the example contained in

the seventeenth chapter of Acts. But on the whole, the picture of

Paul making a study of paganism in preparation for his life-work is

too modern to be convincing. It may seem natural to those modern

missionaries who no longer regard Christianity as a positive

religion, who no longer insist upon any sharp break on the part

of the converts with their ancestral ways of thinking, who are

perfectly content to derive help from all quarters and are far more

interested in improving political and social conditions in the

land for which they labor than they are in securing assent to any

specific Christian message. The Christianity of such missionaries

might consistently be hospitable to foreign influence; such

missionaries might assign the central place in their preparation

to the investigation of the religious life of mission lands. But

the Christianity of Paul was entirely different. Paul was convinced

of the exclusiveness and the all-sufficiency of his own message.

The message had been revealed to him directly by the Lord. It

was supported by the testimony of those who had been intimate

with Jesus; it was supported by the Old Testament Scriptures. But

throughout it was the product of revelation. To the Jews it was a

stumbling-block, to the Greeks foolishness. But to those who were

saved it was the power of God and the wisdom of God. "Where is the

wise," says Paul, "where is the scribe, where is the disputer of

this world? hath not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?" It

is a little difficult to suppose that the man who wrote these words

was willing to modify the divine foolishness of his message in order

to make it conform to the religion of pagan hearers.

Two reservations, therefore, are necessary before the investigator

can enter upon an actual comparison of the Pauline Epistles with

Hermes Trismegistus and other similar sources. In the first place,

it has not been proved that the type of religion attested by these

sources existed at all in the time of Paul;[185] and in the second

place, it is difficult to see how any pagan influence could have

entered into Paul's life. But if despite these difficulties the

comparison be instituted, it will show, as a matter of fact, not

agreement, but a most striking divergence both of language and of

spirit.

[185] See Chapter VI.

The investigation may be divided into three parts, although

the three parts will be found to overlap at many points. Three

fundamental elements in Paul's religion have been derived from

Greco-oriental syncretism: first, the complex of ideas connected

with the obtaining of salvation; second, the sacraments; third, the

Christology and the work of Christ in redemption.[186]

[186] For what follows, compare especially Kennedy, _St. Paul and

the Mystery-Religions_, [1913]; Clemen, _Religionsgeschichtliche

Erklärung des Neuen Testaments_, 1909 (English Translation,

_Primitive Christianity and Its Non-Jewish Sources_, 1912), _Der

Einfluss der Mysterienreligionen auf das älteste Christentum_, 1913.

These writers deny for the most part any influence of the mystery

religions upon the center of Paul's religion. For a thoroughgoing

presentation of the other side of the controversy, see, in addition

to the works of Bousset and Reitzenstein, Loisy, _Les mystères

païens et le mystère chrétien_, 1919.

The first of the three divisions just enumerated is connected

especially with the name of R. Reitzenstein.[187] Reitzenstein lays

great stress upon the lexical method of study; it may be proved, he

believes, that Paul used terms which were derived from Hellenistic

mystical religion, and with the terms went the ideas. The ideas, he

admits, were not taken over without modification, but even after the

Pauline modifications are subtracted, enough is thought to remain

in order to show that the mystery religions exerted an important

influence upon Paul.

[187] _Poimandres_, 1904; _Die hellenistischen Mysterienreligionen_,

2te Aufl., 1920; "Religionsgeschichte und Eschatologie," in

_Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft_, xiii, 1912,

pp. 1-28.

Thus Reitzenstein attempts to exhibit in the Pauline Epistles a

technical vocabulary derived from the Hellenized mystery religions.

This supposed technical vocabulary embraces especially the terms

connected with "knowledge"[188] and "Spirit."[189]

[188] γνῶσις.

[189] πνεῦμα.

In the mystical religion of Paul's day, Reitzenstein says, "gnosis"

(knowledge) did not mean knowledge acquired by processes of

investigation or reasoning, but the knowledge that came by immediate

revelation from a god. Such immediate revelation was given, in the

mystery cults, by the mystic vision which formed a part of the

experience of initiation; in the philosophizing derivatives of the

mystery cults, like the type of piety which is attested in Hermes

Trismegistus, the revelation could be divorced from any external

acts and connected with the mere reading of a book. But in any case,

"gnosis" was not regarded as an achievement of the intellect; it was

an experience granted by divine favor. The man who had received such

favor was exalted far above ordinary humanity; indeed he was already

deified.

This conception of gnosis, Reitzenstein believes, is the conception

which is found in the Pauline Epistles; gnosis according to Paul was

a gift of God, an experience produced by the divine Spirit. In the

case of Paul, Reitzenstein continues, the experience was produced

through a vision of the risen Christ. That vision had changed the

very nature of Paul. It is true, Paul avoids the term "deification";

he does not say, in accordance with Hellenistic usage, that he had

ceased to be a man and had become God. This limitation was required

by his Jewish habits of thought. But he does say that through his

vision he was illumined and received "glory." Thus, although the

term deification is avoided, the idea is present. As one who has

received gnosis, Paul regards himself as being beyond the reach of

human judgments, and is not interested in tradition that came from

other Christians. In short, according to Reitzenstein, Paul was a

true "gnostic."

But this conclusion is reached only by doing violence to the plain

meaning of the Epistles. "Gnosis" in the early Church (including

Paul), as Von Harnack well observes,[190] is not a technical term;

it is no more a technical term than is, for example, "wisdom." In

1 Cor. xii. 8 it appears, not by itself, but along with many other

spiritual gifts of widely diverse nature. Gnosis, therefore, does

not stand in that position of prominence which it ought to occupy

if Reitzenstein's theory were correct. It is, indeed, according to

Paul, important; and it is a direct gift from God. But what reason

is there to have recourse to Hellenistic mystery religions in order

to explain either its importance or its nature? Another explanation

is found much nearer at hand--namely, in the Old Testament. The

possibility of Old Testament influence in Paul does not have to be

established by any elaborate arguments, and is not opposed by his

own testimony. On the contrary, he appeals to the Old Testament

again and again in his Epistles. And the Old Testament contains

all the elements of his conception of the knowledge of God. Even

the Greek noun "gnosis" occurs in the Septuagint (though with

comparative infrequency); but what is far more important is that

the idea is expressed countless times by the verb. Let it not be

said that the Septuagint is a Hellenistic book, and that therefore

if the Septuagint idea of the knowledge of God affords the basis

for Pauline teaching that does not disprove the influence of the

Hellenistic mystery religions. For in its rendering of the passages

dealing with the knowledge of God, whatever may be said of other

matters, the Septuagint is transmitting faithfully the meaning of

the Hebrew text. Knowledge of God in the Hebrew Old Testament is

something far more than a mere intellectual achievement. It is the

gift of God, and it involves the entire emotional nature.

[190] Von Harnack, "Die Terminologie der Wiedergeburt und verwandter

Erlebnisse in der ältesten Kirche," in _Texte und Untersuchungen zur

Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur_, xlii, 1918, pp. 128f.,

Anm. 1.

But may it not be objected that the Pauline conception transcends

that of the Old Testament in that in Paul the knowledge of God

produces a transformation of human nature--the virtual deification

of man? This question must be answered in the negative. Undoubtedly

the Pauline conception does transcend that of the Old Testament,

but not in the way which is here supposed. The intimate relation

between the believer and the risen Christ, according to Paul, goes

far beyond anything that was possible under the old dispensation.

It involves a fuller, richer, more intimate knowledge. But the

experience in which Paul saw the risen Christ near Damascus was not

an end in itself, as it would have been in the milieu of the mystery

religions; it was rather a means to an end.[191] It was the divinely

appointed means by which Paul was convinced of an historical fact,

the resurrection of Jesus, and was led to appropriate the benefits

of that fact. Thus, as Oepke[192] has well observed, Paul does not

expect his converts all to see Christ, or even to have experiences

like that which is described in 2 Cor. xii. 2-4. It is sufficient

for them to receive the historical account of Christ's redeeming

work, through the testimony of Paul and of the other witnesses. That

account, transmitted by ordinary word of mouth, is a sufficient

basis for faith; and through faith comes the new life. At this

point is discovered an enormous difference between Paul and the

mystery religions. In the mystery religions everything led up to

the mystic vision; without that mystic vision there was no escape

from the miseries of the old life. But according to Paul, the mighty

change was produced by the acceptance of a simple story, an account

of what had happened only a few years before, when Jesus died and

rose again. From the acceptance of that story there proceeds a new

knowledge, a gnosis. But this higher gnosis in Paul is not the means

of salvation, as it is in the mystery religions; it is only one

of the effects of salvation. This difference is no mere matter of

detail. On the contrary, it involves a contrast between two entirely

different worlds of thought and life.

[191] Oepke, _Die Missionspredigt des Apostels Paulus_, 1920, p. 53.

[192] _Loc. cit._

The message of Paul, then, was a "gospel," a piece of news about

something that had happened. As has well been observed,[193] the

characteristic New Testament words are the words that deal with

"gospel," "teaching," and the transmission of an historical message.

Paul was not a "gnostic," but a witness; salvation, according to his

teaching, came not through a mystic vision, but through the hearing

of faith.[194]

[193] Heinrici, _Die Hermes-Mystik und das Neue Testament_, 1918,

pp. 178-180.

[194] Compare Oepke, _op. cit._, pp. 40ff.

Thus, so far as the idea of "knowledge" is concerned, Reitzenstein

has not been successful in showing any dependence of Paul upon the

mystery religions. But how is it with regard to the doctrine of the

"Spirit"?

In 1 Cor. ii. 14, 15, the "spiritual man" is contrasted with the

"psychic man." The spiritual man is the man who has the Spirit of

God; the psychic man is the man who has only a human soul. It is not

really correct to say that the spiritual man, according to Paul,

is a man not who has the Spirit but who is the Spirit. Paul avoids

such an expression for the same reason that prevents his speaking of

the "deification" of the Christian. Everywhere in Paul the personal

distinction between the believer and the Christ who dwells in him is

carefully preserved. His "mysticism" (if the word may be used thus

loosely) is never pantheistic. Here already is to be found a most

vital difference between Paul and Hermes Trismegistus.

But this observation constitutes a digression. It is necessary

to return to 1 Cor. ii. 14, 15. The spiritual man, according to

that passage, is the man who has the Spirit of God; the psychic

man is the man who has only a human soul. Reitzenstein apparently

insists that the "only" in this sentence should be left out. The

psychic man, according to Paul, he says, has a soul; the spiritual

man has no "soul" but has the divine Spirit instead. But such a

representation is not really Pauline.[195] Paul clearly teaches

that the human soul continues to exist even after the divine

Spirit has entered in. "The Spirit himself," he says, "beareth

witness with our spirit, that we are children of God" (Rom. viii.

16). Here "our spirit" clearly means "our soul," and is expressly

distinguished from the divine Spirit. At every point, then, the

attempt to find a pantheistic mysticism in Paul breaks down before

the intensely personal character of his religion. The relation of

Paul to the risen Christ, intimate as it is, mediated as it is by

the all-pervasive Spirit, is a relation of one person to another.

[195] See especially Vos, "The Eschatological Aspect of the Pauline

Conception of the Spirit," in _Biblical and Theological Studies by

the Members of the Faculty of Princeton Theological Seminary_, 1912,

pp. 248-250.

But it is still necessary to return to the Pauline contrast between

the "spiritual man" and the "psychic man." Reitzenstein lays great

stress upon that contrast. He regards it as lying at the heart of

Paul's religion, and he thinks that he can explain it from the

Hellenistic mystery religions. Apparently the method of Reitzenstein

can be tested at this point if it can be tested at all. If it does

not succeed in explaining the Pauline doctrine of the Spirit, upon

which the chief stress is laid, probably it will explain nothing at

all.

At first sight the material adduced by Reitzenstein is impressive.

It is impressive by its very bulk. The reader is led by the learned

investigator into many new and entrancing fields. Surely after so

long a journey the traveler must arrive at last at his desired

goal. But somehow the goal is never reached. All of Reitzenstein's

material, strange to say, seems to prove the exact opposite of what

Reitzenstein desires.

Reitzenstein desires apparently to explain the Pauline use of the

adjectives "psychic" and "spiritual"[196] in 1 Cor. ii. 14, 15;

apparently he is quite sure that the usage finds its sufficient

basis in Hermes Trismegistus and related sources. But the plain

fact--almost buried though it is under the mass of irrelevant

material--is that the adjective "psychic" and the adjective

"spiritual" occur each only once in the sources which are examined,

and that they never occur, as in 1 Cor. ii. 14, 15, in contrast

with each other.[197] What is even far more disconcerting, however,

is that the noun "spirit"[198] is not used (certainly not used

ordinarily) in contrast with "soul,"[199] as Paul uses it. Certainly

it is not so used ordinarily in the Hermetic writings. On the

contrary, in Hermes the spirit appears, in certain passages, not as

something that is higher than the soul, but as something that is

lower. Apparently the common Greek materialistic use of "pneuma" to

indicate "breath" or "wind" or the like is here followed. At any

rate, the terminology is as remote as could be imagined from that of

Paul. There is absolutely no basis for the Pauline contrast between

the human soul and the divine Spirit.[200]

[196] ψυχικός and πνευματικός.

[197] On the occurrence of ψυχικός at the beginning of Dieterich's

"Mithras Liturgy" (line 24), see Bousset, _Kyrios Christos_, 1913,

p. 141, Anm. 1. On the occurrence of πνευματικός, see Reitzenstein,

_Hellenistische Mysterienreligionen_, 2te Aufl., 1920, p. 162.

Compare Bousset, _Jesus der Herr_, 1916, pp. 80f.

[198] πνεῦμα.

[199] ψυχή.

[200] For this whole subject, see especially the comprehensive

monograph of Burton (_Spirit, Soul, and Flesh_, [1918]), with the

summary on pp. 205-207.

It might be supposed that this fact would weaken Reitzenstein's

devotion to his theory. But such is not the case. If, says

Reitzenstein, "Spirit" in Hermes Trismegistus does not indicate

something higher than "soul," that is because the original popular

terminology has here suffered philosophical revision. The popular

term "spirit" has been made to give place to the more philosophical

term "mind."[201] Where Hermes says "mind," therefore, it is only

necessary to restore the term "spirit," and an admirable basis is

discovered for the Pauline terminology. But how does Reitzenstein

know that the popular, unphilosophical term in the mystery religions

was "spirit," rather than "mind" or the like? The extant pagan

sources do not clearly attest the term "spirit" in the sense which

is here required. Apparently then the only reason for positing the

existence of such a term in pagan mystery religion is that it must

have existed in pagan mystery religion if the Pauline use of it is

to be explained. It looks, therefore, as though the learned argument

of Reitzenstein had been moving all the time in a circle. After

pursuing a roundabout course through many centuries and many races

of men, after acquiring boundless treasures of curious information,

after impressing the whole world with the learning thus acquired,

the explorer arrives at last at the exact point where he started,

and no richer than when he first set out! The Pauline terminology

cannot be explained except as coming from the mystery religions;

therefore, says Reitzenstein in effect, it must have had a place

in the mystery religions even though the extant sources provide no

sufficient evidence of the fact.[202]

[201] νούς

[202] See Burton, _op. cit._, p. 206: "For the Pauline exaltation of

πνεῦμα over ψυχή there is no observed previous parallel. It marks an

advance on Philo, for which there is no precedent in non-Jewish

Greek, and only partial and imperfect parallels in the magical

papyri. It is the reverse of Hermetic usage."

But is there not some way out of the vicious circle? Is there not

some witness to the terminology which is required? The investigator

turns naturally to Philo. Philo is thought to be dependent upon

the mysteries; perhaps he will attest the required mystical use

of the term "spirit." But, alas, Philo apparently deserts his

friends. Except where he is influenced by the Old Testament use

of the word "spirit," he seems to prefer other terminology.[203]

His terminology, then, like that of Hermes must be thought to have

suffered philosophical reversal. And still the required mystery

terminology eludes the eye of the investigator.

[203] See Bousset, _Kyrios Christos_, pp. 138, 140, 141 (Anm. 2).

Of course there is one place where the terms "Spirit" and

"spiritual" are exalted above the terms "psyche" and "psychic,"

in quite the manner that is desired. That place is found in the

Christian Gnosticism of the second century. But the Gnostics of the

second century are plainly dependent upon Paul; they vie with the

Catholic Church in their appeal to the Pauline Epistles. The origin

of their use of the terms "psychic" and "spiritual" is therefore

only too plain. At least it might seem to be plain. But Reitzenstein

rejects the common view.[204] According to Reitzenstein, the

Gnostics have derived their usage not from Paul but from the

pre-Pauline mystery religions; and the Gnostic usage of "Spirit" as

higher than "soul" is the source of the Hermetic usage of "soul" as

higher than "spirit," which, Reitzenstein believes, has been derived

from it by philosophical revision. But the argument is beyond

the reach even of J. Kroll, who cannot be accused of theological

interest. As has already been observed, Kroll insists that the

Gnostic usage is here secondary.[205]

[204] Also Bousset, _op. cit._, pp. 140f. According to Bousset, it

is unlikely that "the few and difficult terminological explanations

of Paul ... should have exerted such extensive influence upon the

most diverse Gnostic systems." But is the teaching of Paul about the

Spirit as higher than the soul really obscure? Does it not appear

plainly all through the Epistles?

[205] See above, p. 249, with footnote 2.

One argument remains. The trouble, from Reitzenstein's point of

view, is that when the Hermetic writings ought, in the interests of

the theory, to say "Spirit" they actually say "mind." It becomes

necessary, therefore, to prove that "mind" means the same thing as

"spirit." A proof is found by Reitzenstein in Paul himself, in I

Cor. ii. 15, 16. "But the spiritual man," says Paul, "examines all

things, but he himself is examined by none. For 'who hath known the

mind of the Lord, that he should instruct Him?' But we have the

mind of Christ." Here, says Reitzenstein,[206] the possession of

the "mind" of Christ makes a man a "spiritual" man, that is, a man

who has the "Spirit." Hence "mind" is the same thing as "spirit."

Hence--such, at least, would seem to be the only inference from the

passage in I Corinthians which would really establish Reitzenstein's

theory--when Hermes Trismegistus says "mind," it is legitimate to

substitute "spirit" in order thus to find the basis for the ordinary

Pauline terminology.

[206] _Hellenistische Mysterienreligionen_, 2te Aufl., 1920, pp.

189f.

But it is by no means clear that "mind" in I Cor. ii. 16b is the

same as "spirit." If a man has the Spirit of Christ, he also has

the mind of Christ; the Spirit gives him an understanding of the

thoughts of Christ. Conversely, the possession of the mind of

Christ is a proof that the man has the Spirit of Christ; it is only

the Spirit who could have given him his understanding of Christ's

thoughts. But it does not follow by any means that the term "mind"

means the same thing as the term "spirit." Moreover, the passage is

entirely isolated; and the choice of the unusual word "mind" may be

due to the form of the Septuagint passage which Paul is citing.

At any rate, the plain fact is that the terminology in Hermes

Trismegistus and related sources is strikingly different from that

of Paul. Reitzenstein finds himself in the peculiar position of

proving that Paul is dependent upon pagan sources by the fact that

the Pauline terminology does not occur in the pagan sources. It will

not do for him to say that the terminology is of little importance

and that the ideas of Paul, if not the terminology, are derived from

the pagan mysteries. For it is just Reitzenstein who insists upon

the importance of words as the vehicle of ideas. His fundamental

argument is that Paul used the terminology of the mystery religions,

and with the terminology received also the ideas. It is therefore

important to observe that Reitzenstein's lexical parallel utterly

breaks down.

But if the Pauline doctrine of the Spirit was not derived from

the pagan mystery religions, whence was it derived? The answer

is perfectly plain. It was derived ultimately from the Old

Testament.[207] Unquestionably, indeed, it goes far beyond the

Old Testament, and the enrichment of its content may conceivably

be explained in various ways. The Gospels and Acts explain the

enrichment as due partly to the teaching of Jesus Himself and to

the coming of the Spirit on the day of Pentecost. This explanation

will be rejected for the most part by naturalistic criticism. Paul

explains the enrichment as due partly to the experience which he

had of the presence of Christ. This explanation is regarded as no

explanation at all by the school of comparative religion. But it is

not necessary in the present connection to discuss these matters.

All that needs to be observed now is that the basis for the Pauline

doctrine of the Spirit is found in the Old Testament.

[207] Bousset (_op. cit._, p. 141, Anm. 2) admits that the

terminology of Paul, especially his use of the term "Spirit" instead

of "mind" and his use of the terms in the contrast between "Spirit"

and "flesh" may possibly be due partly to the Old Testament, but

insists that such terminological influence does not touch the

fundamentals of the thought. Such admissions are important, despite

the way in which Bousset qualifies them.

In the Old Testament, the Spirit of God is represented as distinct

from man and higher than man; there is no question in the Old

Testament of a usage by which the Spirit is degraded, as in Hermes

Trismegistus, below the soul. In the Old Testament, moreover, the

Spirit is regarded as bestowing supernatural gifts such as prophecy

and producing supernatural experiences--exactly as in Paul. But the

fruit of the Spirit according to the Old Testament is something more

than prophecy or any momentary experience; it is also a permanent

possession of the soul. "Take not thy holy Spirit from me," says

the Psalmist. (Ps. li. 11.) Let the student first examine the

labored arguments of Reitzenstein, let him examine the few faint

approaches to the Pauline terminology which have been gleaned from

pagan sources, mostly late and of uncertain origin, let him observe

that just where Greek usage approaches Paul most closely in form (as

in the "divine Spirit" of Menander),[208] it is most diametrically

opposed in content, let him reflect that the influence of pagan

usage is contrary to Paul's own consciousness. And then let him turn

to the Old Testament! Let him remember that the Pauline use of the

Old Testament is no matter of conjecture, but is attested everywhere

in the Epistles. And let him examine the Old Testament usage in

detail. The Pauline terminology--"the Holy Spirit," the "Spirit

of God"--so signally lacking in early pagan sources,[209] appears

here in all its richness; and with the terminology go the depths of

life. In turning from Hermes to the Hebrew Scriptures, the student

has turned away from Stoic pantheism, away from the polytheism of

the mystery religions, away from the fantastic speculations of a

decadent philosophy, to the presence of the personal God. And, in

doing so, he has found the origin of the religion of Paul.

[208] See Burton, _op. cit._, pp. 114-116.

[209] Burton, _op. cit._, pp. 173-175, 187f.

Thus the lexical argument of Reitzenstein breaks down at the

decisive points. It would indeed be rash to assert that Paul

never uses a term derived from the pagan mysteries. For example,

in Phil. iv. 12 he uses the verb that means "to be initiated."

"In everything and in all things I have been initiated," he says,

"both to be filled and to suffer hunger, both to abound and to be

in want." But this example shows clearly how little importance is

sometimes to be attributed to the ultimate derivation of a word.

The word "initiate" is here used in a purely figurative way. It is

doubtful whether there is the slightest thought of its original

significance. The word has been worn down by repeated use almost as

much as, for example, the word which means "supply" in Gal. iii.

5. Etymologically that word means "to be the leader of a chorus."

It referred originally to the Athenian custom by which a wealthy

citizen undertook to defray the cost of the chorus at one of the

dramatic festivals. But later it was used to designate any act of

bountiful supplying. And when it was used by Paul, its origin was

entirely forgotten. It would be ridiculous to make Paul say that

in bestowing the Spirit upon the Galatian Christians God acted

as the leader of a chorus. It is not essentially different with

the verb meaning "to be initiated" in Philippians. In both cases,

an institution of ancient Hellenic life--in the former case, the

religious festivals, in the latter case, the mysteries--has given

rise to the use of a word, which found its way into the Greek

world-language of the Hellenistic age, and continued to be used even

where there was no thought of its ultimate origin.

This example is instructive because the context in the Philippians

passage is plainly free from all mystical associations. Plainly,

therefore, the use of a word derived from the mysteries does not

necessarily indicate any agreement with the mystical point of view.

Indeed, it may perhaps indicate the exact opposite. If the idea

"to initiate" had associations connected with the center of Paul's

religious life, it is perhaps doubtful whether Paul could have used

the word in so purely figurative a way, just as he would not have

used the word meaning "to be the leader of a chorus" in referring to

God's bestowal of the Spirit, if he had had the slightest thought of

the Athenian festivals.

If, then, it should appear that Paul uses a vocabulary derived from

the mysteries, the fact would not necessarily be of any significance

whatever in determining the origin of his religion. Every missionary

is obliged to take the words which have been used in the religion

from which converts are to be won in order to express the new ideas.

Translators of the Bible in the modern mission fields are obliged

to proceed in this way. Yet the procedure does not necessarily

involve any modification of Christian ideas. The old words are given

loftier meanings in order to become the vehicle of Christian truth;

the original meanings provide merely a starting-point for the new

teaching. Conceivably, the apostle Paul might have proceeded in this

way; conceivably he might have used words connected with the mystery

religions in order to proclaim the gospel of Christ.

As a matter of fact, the evidence for such an employment of a

mystery terminology in the Pauline Epistles is very slight. In

1 Cor. ii. 6, 7, Paul uses the terms "mystery" and "perfect" or

"full-grown."[210] The former word was sometimes used to designate

the "mysteries" in the technical, religious sense. But it is also

used in Greek in a very much more general way. And certainly as it

is used in Paul it is very remote from the technical meaning. The

Christian "mystery" according to Paul is not something that is to

be kept secret on principle, like the mysteries of Eleusis, but it

is something which, though it was formerly hidden in the counsels

of God, is now to be made known to all. Some, it is true, may never

be able to receive it. But that which is necessary in order that

it may be received is not "gnosis" or an initiation. It is rather

acceptance of a message and the holy life that follows. "If you

would know the deep things of God," Paul says to the Corinthians,

"then stop your quarreling." We find ourselves here in a circle of

ideas quite different from that of the mystery religions. As for

the word "teleios," it seems not to have been discovered in pagan

sources in the sense of "initiated," which is sometimes attributed

to it in 1 Corinthians. Apparently it means simply "full-grown";

Paul contrasts the full-grown man with the babes in Christ.

[210] μυστήριον and τέλειος.

On the whole, it seems improbable that the converts of Paul, in

any great numbers, had lived in the atmosphere of the mystery

religions.[211] At any rate, Paul certainly does not use the

technical vocabulary of the mysteries. That fact has been amply

demonstrated by Von Harnack in the illuminating study which he has

devoted to the "terminology of the new birth."[212] The earliest

genuine technical term in the vocabulary of the early Church, Von

Harnack believes, is "illumination," as Justin Martyr uses it to

designate baptism. Certainly in the earlier period, there is not the

slightest evidence of any such fixity in the use of terms as would

have appeared if the New Testament writers had adopted a technical

vocabulary.

[211] Oepke, _Die Missionspredigt des Apostels Paulus_, 1920, p. 26.

[212] Von Harnack, "Die Terminologie der Wiedergeburt und verwandter

Erlebnisse in der ältesten Kirche," in _Texte und Untersuchungen zur

Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur_, xlii, 1918, pp. 97-143.

See especially pp. 139-143.

Therefore, if the dependence of Paul upon the mystery religions

is to be demonstrated, the lexical method of Reitzenstein must

be abandoned. The terminology of Paul is not derived from the

terminology of the mysteries. But possibly, it may be said, although

there is no clear dependence in the terminology, the fundamental

ideas of Paul may still be shown to have come from the surrounding

paganism. It is in this more cautious form that the hypothesis

is maintained by Bousset: at least Bousset is less inclined than

Reitzenstein to lay stress upon verbal coincidences.[213] The entire

outlook of Paul, Bousset believes, regardless of the way in which

that outlook is expressed, was derived from the mystical piety of

the Hellenistic age; it was from his pagan environment that Paul

derived the pessimistic estimate of human nature which is at the

basis of his teaching.

[213] But compare _Jesus der Herr_, 1916, pp. 80-85.

At this point it may be admitted very freely that Paul was convinced

of the insufficiency of human nature, and that that conviction

was also prevalent in the paganism of the Hellenistic age. The

Hellenistic age, like Paul, recognized the need of redemption;

salvation, it was believed, could not be attained by unaided human

resources, but was a gift of higher powers. But this similarity is

quite insufficient to establish any relationship of dependence.

Both Paulinism and the Hellenistic mystery religions were religions

of redemption. But there have been many religions of redemption,

in many ages and among many peoples, which have been entirely

independent of one another. It will probably not be maintained,

for example, that early Buddhism stood in any fundamental causal

relation to the piety of the Hellenistic age. Yet early Buddhism was

a religion of redemption.

No attempt indeed should be made to underestimate the community

of interest which binds all redemptive religions together and

separates them sharply from all others. Common recognition of the

fundamental evil of the world is a far closer bond of union than

agreement about the details of conduct. Gautama under the tree of

knowledge in India, seeking in ascetic meditation for freedom from

the misery of existence, was inwardly far nearer to the apostle

Paul than is many a modern liberal preacher who loves to read the

sixth chapter of Ephesians in Church. But such community of interest

does not indicate any relation of dependence. It might do so if the

sense of human inadequacy were an abnormal thing. In that case,

the appearance of a pessimistic view of human nature would require

explanation. But if human nature is really hopeless and helpless in

an evil world, then the independent recognition of the fact by many

men of many minds is no longer cause for wonder.

Historical judgments at this point, then, are apt to be influenced

by the presuppositions of the investigator. To Bousset the whole

notion of redemption is distasteful. It seems to him to be an

abnormal, an unhealthy thing. To explain its emergence, therefore,

in the course of human history he is prone to look for special

causes. So he explains the Pauline doctrine of the radical evil

of human nature as being due to the piety of a decadent age. But

if this world is really an evil world, as Paul says it is, then

recognition of the fact will appear spontaneously at many points.

For a time, in an age of high achievements like the age of Pericles,

the fundamental problem of life may be forgotten. But the problem is

always there and will force itself ever anew into the consciousness

of men.

At any rate, whether desirable or not, the longing for redemption

is a fundamental fact of history, and may be shown to have emerged

independently at many points. The character of Paulinism as a

redemptive religion, the Pauline doctrine of human depravity, is

therefore insufficient to establish dependence of Paul upon the

mystery religions of the Hellenistic age. Dependence could be

established only by similarity in the form in which the doctrine

of depravity appears. But as a matter of fact such similarity is

strikingly absent. The Pauline use of the term "flesh" to denote

that in which evil resides can apparently find no real parallel

whatever in pagan usage. And the divergence appears not only in

terminology but also in thought. At first sight there might seem

to be a parallel between the Pauline doctrine of the flesh and the

Greek doctrine of the evil of matter, which appears in the Orphic

sects, then in Plato and in his successors. But the parallel breaks

down upon closer examination. According to Plato, the body is evil

because it is material; it is the prison-house of the soul. Nothing

could really be more remote from the thought of Paul. According to

Paul, the connection of soul and body is entirely normal, and the

soul apart from the body is in a condition of nakedness. It is true,

the body will be changed at the resurrection or at the coming of

Christ; it will be made more adequate for the Kingdom of God. But

at any rate, there is in Paul no doctrine of the inherent evil of

matter. The real starting-point of the Pauline doctrine of the flesh

is to be found in the Old Testament, in the passages where "flesh"

denotes human nature in its frailty. Certainly the Pauline teaching

is far more highly developed than the teaching of the Old Testament.

But the Old Testament provides the starting-point. The "flesh" in

Paul, when it is used in its developed, ethical sense, does not mean

the material nature of man; it includes rather all that man receives

by ordinary generation. The contrast between "flesh" and "Spirit"

therefore is not the contrast between matter and spirit; it is a

contrast between human nature, of which sin has taken possession,

and the Spirit of God.

Certainly, at any rate, whatever solution may be found for the

intricate problem of the Pauline use of the term "flesh," the

Pauline pessimism with regard to human nature is totally different

from the dualistic pessimism of the Hellenistic age. It is different

because it does not make evil reside in matter as such. But it is

different also in a far more fundamental way. It is different in

its ethical character. The Hellenistic age was conscious of the

need of salvation; and salvation, it was recognized, must come from

outside of man. But this consciousness of need was not always,

and not clearly, connected with questions of right and wrong. The

Hellenistic age was conscious of inadequacy, of slavery to fate, of

the futility of human life as it is actually lived upon the earth.

Here and there, no doubt, there was also a recognition of existing

moral evil, and a longing for a better life. But such longings

were almost submerged amidst longings of a non-ethical kind. The

mysteries were cherished for the most part not because they offered

goodness but because they offered happiness.

In Paul, on the other hand, the consciousness of human inadequacy

is essentially a consciousness of sin. And redemption is desired

because it satisfies the hunger and thirst after righteousness. At

this point the contrast with the Hellenistic mystery religions is

profound. The religion of Paul is like the mystery religions in that

it is a religion of redemption. But there the similarity ceases.

There is certainly no such similarity in the conception of that

from which men are to be redeemed as would raise any presumption

of dependence in the presentation of the means of redemption. And

it is dependence in the presentation of the means of redemption

which alone would serve to explain the origin of the religion of

Paul. It is unwarranted to argue that because Paul agrees with the

mystery religions in a longing for redemption therefore he must have

derived from the mystery religions his method of satisfying the

longing--namely his conception of the redemptive work of the Lord

Jesus Christ. For even in the longing for redemption--to say nothing

of the way of satisfying the longing--Paul was totally different

from the mysteries. The longing which was aroused in the devotees

of the mysteries was a longing for a happier immortality, a freedom

from the pressure of fate; the longing which Paul sought to arouse

in those for whom he labored was a longing for righteousness and for

acceptance by the righteous God.

This difference is intimately connected with a highly significant

fact--the presence in Paul of a "forensic" view of salvation.

Salvation, according to Paul, is not only salvation from the

power of sin; it is also salvation from the guilt of sin. Not

only regeneration is needed, if a man is to be saved, but also

justification. At this point, there is apparently in the mystery

religions no parallel worthy of the name. At least there is none

if Reitzenstein's attempt to exhibit a parallel[214] is at all

adequate; for Reitzenstein has succeeded only in setting in clearer

light the enormous difference at this point between Paul and his

pagan environment. The word "justify" appears, indeed, in the

Hermetic corpus (xiii. 9), but as Reitzenstein himself observes,

it means not "declare righteous" but "make righteous." A parallel

with Paul can be set up, therefore, only if "justify" in Paul also

means "make righteous." Reitzenstein actually finds such a meaning

in Rom. vi. 7, and in Rom. viii. 30. But the expedient is desperate

in the extreme. It will probably be unnecessary to review again the

absolutely overwhelming evidence by which the word "justify" in the

Pauline Epistles is shown to mean not "make righteous" but "declare

righteous." Without the slightest question Paul did maintain a

forensic view of salvation. The believer, according to Paul, is in

himself guilty in the sight of God. But he is given a sentence of

acquittal, he is "justified," because Christ has borne on the cross

the curse of the Law which rightly rested upon those whom Christ

died to save.

[214] Reitzenstein, _Die hellenistischen Mysterienreligionen_, 2te

Aufl., pp. 112-116.

The presence of this forensic element in the teaching of Paul is

universally or generally recognized; and it is usually admitted

to be not Greek but Jewish. But there is a tendency among recent

scholars to minimize its importance. According to Wrede, the

forensic conception of salvation, the complex of ideas centering

around justification apart from the works of the Law, was merely a

weapon forged by Paul in the exigencies of controversy.[215] Against

the Judaizing contention for the continued validity of the Law Paul

developed the doctrine that the penalty imposed by the Law upon sin

was borne by Christ, so that for the believer the bondage of the Law

is over. But, Wrede believes, this whole conception was of minor

importance in Paul's own life; it was merely necessary in order

that he might refute the Judaizers and so continue his free Gentile

mission. A somewhat similar view is advocated by Bousset; Bousset

believes, at least, that the forensic conception of salvation

occupies a subordinate place in the thought and life of Paul.

[215] "Kampfeslehre." See Wrede, _Paulus_, 1904, pp. 72ff. (English

Translation, _Paul_, 1907, pp. 122ff.).

But there could be no greater mistake. The doctrine of justification

by faith alone apart from the works of the Law appears indeed in

the Epistle to the Galatians as a weapon against the Judaizers. But

why was Paul opposed to the Judaizers in the first place? Certainly

it was not merely because the Judaizing demand that Gentile

Christians should be circumcised and keep the Law would interfere

in a practical way with the Gentile mission. Paul was not like some

modern leaders of the Church, who are interested in mere bigness;

he was not interested in the extension of the Church if such

extension involved the sacrifice of principle. Nothing could be more

utterly unhistorical than the representation of Paul as a practical

missionary, developing the doctrine of justification by faith in

order to get rid of a doctrine of the Law which would be a hindrance

in the way of his Gentile mission. Such a representation reverses

the real state of the case. The real reason why Paul was devoted to

the doctrine of justification by faith was not that it made possible

the Gentile mission, but rather that it was true. Paul was not

devoted to the doctrine of justification by faith because of the

Gentile mission; he was devoted to the Gentile mission because of

the doctrine of justification by faith. And he was opposed to the

Judaizers, not merely because they constituted a hindrance in the

way of the Gentile work, but because they made the cross of Christ

of none effect. "If righteousness is through the law, then Christ

died in vain" (Gal. ii. 21). These words are at the very heart of

Paul's life; for they involve the Pauline doctrine of the grace of

God.

There could be no greater error, therefore, than that of

representing the Pauline doctrine of justification by faith as

a mere afterthought, as a mere weapon in controversy. Paul was

interested in salvation from the guilt of sin no whit less than in

salvation from the power of sin, in justification no whit less than

in the "new creation." Indeed, it is a great mistake to separate

the two sides of his message. There lies the root error of the

customary modern formula for explaining the origin of the Pauline

theology. According to that formula, the forensic element in Paul's

doctrine of salvation, which centers in justification, was derived

from Judaism, and the vital or essential element which centers in

the new creation was derived from paganism. In reality, the two

elements are inextricably intertwined. The sense of guilt was always

central in the longing for salvation which Paul desired to induce in

his hearers, and imparted to that longing an ethical quality which

was totally lacking in the mystery religions. And salvation in the

Pauline churches consisted not merely in the assurance of a blessed

immortality, not merely in the assurance of a present freedom from

the bondage of fate, not merely even in the possession of a new

power of holy living, but also, and everywhere, in the consciousness

that the guilt of sin had been removed by the cross of Christ.

There is no affinity, therefore, between the Pauline doctrine of

salvation and that which is found in the mystery religions. The

terminology is strikingly different, and the difference is even

greater in the underlying ideas. Paulinism is like the mystery

religions in being a religion of redemption, but within the great

category of redemptive religions there could be no greater contrast.

This conclusion might be overthrown if certain recent contentions

should prove to be correct with regard to the second of the

elements in Paulinism which are being derived from pagan religion.

This second element is found in the Pauline doctrine of the

sacraments. In the teaching of Paul about baptism and the Lord's

Supper, we are told, there is clearly to be observed the influence

of the mystery religions.

This contention depends partly upon the supposed nature of these

particular sacraments and partly upon the mere fact of the presence

of sacraments in the religion of Paul.

With regard to the nature of these particular sacraments there

might seem at first sight to be a parallel with the mystery

religions. The mysteries usually had connected with them ablutions

of one kind or another and some sort of partaking of sacred food.

But it is singularly difficult to determine the meaning of these

practices. The various ablutions which preceded the celebration

of the mysteries may have been often nothing more than symbols of

cleansing; and such symbolism is so natural that it might appear

independently at many places. It appears, for example, highly

developed among the Jews; and in the baptism of John the Baptist

it assumes a form far more closely akin to Christian baptism than

in the washings which were connected with the pagan mysteries.

The evidence for a sacramental significance of the ablutions in

the mysteries, despite confident assertions on the part of some

modern writers, is really very slight. Most interesting, perhaps,

of all the passages which have been cited is that which appears

in Pap. Par. 47, a papyrus letter written in the second century

before Christ.[216] This passage may be translated as follows:

"For you are untruthful about all things and the gods who are with

you likewise, because they have cast you into great matter and we

are not able to die, and if you see that we are going to be saved,

then let us be baptized." It is possible to understand the death

that is referred to as the mystical death which would be attained

in the mysteries, and to connect the baptism with that death and

with the consequent salvation. There would thus be a parallel,

external at least, with the sixth chapter of Romans, where Paul

connects baptism with the death and resurrection of Christ. But

the papyrus passage is hopelessly obscure, and is capable of very

different interpretations. Moulton and Milligan, for example, take

the verb "to be baptized," in a purely figurative sense, as meaning

simply "to be overwhelmed with calamities."[217] According to this

interpretation the reference to the mysteries disappears altogether.

At any rate, the passage, if it does refer to the mysteries, is

altogether isolated. And in view of its extreme obscurity it should

not be made the basis of far-reaching conclusions. What is now being

maintained is not that the washings which were connected with the

mysteries were never sacramental. It is incautious to make such

sweeping negative assertions. But so far as the pre-Pauline period

is concerned, the evidence which has been adduced is, to say the

least, exceedingly scanty. It has by no means been proved that in

the pre-Pauline mysteries, "baptism" was connected closely with the

new birth.[218]

[216] See Reitzenstein, _op. cit._, 2te Aufl., pp. 85f. The passage

in the papyrus reads as follows (_Notices et extraits des manuscrits

de la bibliothèque impériale_, xviii, 1865, p. 315): ὅτι ψεύδη πάντα,

καὶ ὁι παρά σε θεοὶ ὁμοίως, ὁτι ἐνβέβληκαν ὑμᾶς εἰς ὔλην μεγάλην, καὶ δυνάμεθα

ἀποθανεῖν κἂν ἅδῃς ὄτι μέλλομεν σωσθῆναι, τότε βαπτιζώμεθα. The letter is also

contained in Witkowski, _Epistulae privatae graecae_, 1906,

pp. 63-66.

[217] Moulton and Milligan, _The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament_,

s. v. βαπτίζω, Part ii, [1915], p. 102. Similarly Sethe, "Sarapis,"

in _Abhandlungen der königlichen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu

Göttingen_, philologisch-historische Klasse, Neue Folge, xiv, Nro.

5, 1913, p. 51.

[218] Tertullian, _de bapt_. 5 (ed. Reifferscheid et Wissowa, 1890),

it must be admitted, connects baptism in heathen religion with

regeneration, and mentions the part which sacramental washings had

in the mysteries of Isis and of Mithras, and in Eleusinian rites.

Despite the post-Pauline date of this testimony, the passage is

certainly interesting. Compare Kennedy, _op. cit._, p. 229.

With regard to the partaking of sacred food, the evidence is in some

respects more abundant. Even in the mysteries of Eleusis, a special

significance seems to have been attributed to the drinking of the

"kykeon"; and the initiates into the Phrygian mysteries are reported

by Clement of Alexandria (similarly Firmicus Maternus) to have

used a formula including the words, "I ate from the drum, I drank

from the cymbal." So far as the form of the act is concerned, the

similarity to the Christian Eucharist is here certainly not great;

there was eating and drinking in both cases, but everything else,

so far as can be seen, was different. In the mysteries of Mithras

the similarity of form seems to have been greater; the initiates

partook of bread and of a cup in a way which Justin Martyr regarded

as a demoniac imitation of the Christian sacrament. According to

Cumont, moreover, the Mithraic practice was clearly sacramental;

the initiates expected from their sacred banquet a supernatural

effect.[219] But it will be remembered that considerations of date

render an influence of Mithras upon Paul exceedingly improbable. And

the significance of the eating and drinking in connection with other

mysteries is obscure. Apparently these acts did not form a part of

the mysteries proper, but were only a preparation for them.

[219] Cumont, _Textes et monuments figurés relatifs aux mystères de

Mithra_, i, 1899, p. 321. See Heitmüller, _Taufe und Abendmahl bei

Paulus_, 1903, p. 46, Anm. 3.

In a very savage form of religion there appears the notion that men

could partake of the divine nature by actually eating the god. For

example, in the worship of Dionysus, the worshipers in the height of

religious frenzy tore in pieces the sacred bull and devoured the raw

flesh. Here the bull apparently represented the god himself. This

savage practice stands in external parallel with certain passages in

the New Testament, not only with the references in John vi to the

eating of the flesh and drinking of the blood of Christ, but also

(though less clearly) with the Pauline teaching about the Lord's

Supper. In 1 Cor. x. 16 Paul speaks of the "cup of blessing" as

being communion of the blood of Christ, and of the bread as being

communion of the body of Christ. Have we not here a sublimated form

of the pagan notion of eating the god? The supposition might seem

to be strengthened by the parallel which Paul draws a few verses

further on between the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons, and

between the table of the Lord and the table of demons (verse 21),

the demons, it is said, being regarded by Paul as identical with the

heathen gods.

But the trouble is that the savage notion of eating the god does

not seem to have survived in the Hellenistic mystery religions.

At this point, therefore, the student of comparative religion is

faced with a difficulty exactly opposite to that which appears in

most of the parallels which have been set up between the teaching

of Paul and pagan religion. In most cases the difficulty is that

the pagan parallels are too late; here, on the contrary, they are

too early. If Paul is dependent upon the pagan notion of eating the

god, he must have deserted the religious practice which prevailed in

his own day in order to have recourse to a savage custom which had

long since been abandoned. The suggestion does not seem to be very

natural. It is generally admitted that even where Christianity is

dependent upon Hellenistic religion it represents a spiritualizing

modification of the pagan practice. But at this point it would have

to be supposed that the Christian modification proceeded in exactly

the opposite direction; far from marking a greater spiritualization

of pagan practice, it meant a return to a savage stage of religion

which even paganism had abandoned.

Efforts are sometimes made to overcome this objection. "We observe

in the history of religion," says Heitmüller, "that tendencies

connected with low stages of religious development, which in

the higher stages were quiescent or extinct, suddenly spring

up again--of course in a modified form adapted to the changed

circumstances."[220] Such general observations, even if they are

based upon fact, will hardly serve to render the present hypothesis

any more plausible. Dependence of the Pauline teaching about the

Lord's Supper upon the savage notion of eating the god, when even

paganism had come to abandon that notion, will always seem very

unnatural.

[220] Heitmüller, _Taufe und Abendmahl bei Paulus_, 1903, p. 47.

Certainly the hypothesis is not supported by the parallel which Paul

draws in 1 Cor. x. 21 between the table of the Lord and the table

of demons. Paul does not say that the heathen had fellowship with

their gods by partaking of them in a meal; the fellowship with those

gods (verse 20) could be conceived of in other ways. For example,

the cult god may have been conceived of in the sacrificial meals as

the host at a feast. In point of fact, such an idea was no doubt

widely prevalent. It is attributed to the Phrygian mysteries, for

example, by Hepding, who supposes that the eating from the drum and

drinking from the cymbal meant the entrance of the initiate into the

circle formed by the table-companions of the god.[221] At any rate,

the savage notion of eating the god is not clearly attested for the

Hellenistic period, and certainly dependence of Paul upon such a

notion is unlikely in the extreme.

[221] Hepding, _Attis_, 1903, pp. 186f.

No close parallel, then, can be established between the Christian

sacraments and the practices of the pagan cults. But the very fact

that the Pauline churches had sacraments at all--irrespective of

the form of the particular sacraments--may conceivably be made a

ground for connecting Paulinism with the Hellenistic religions.

The argument depends upon one particular view of the Pauline

sacraments; it depends upon the view that baptism and the Lord's

Supper were conceived of as conveying blessing not in virtue of the

disposition of soul with which they were administered or received

but in virtue of the sacramental acts themselves. In other words

(to use traditional language), the argument depends upon the view

that the Pauline sacraments conveyed their blessing not _ex opere

operantis_ but _ex opere operato_. In the Pauline churches, it is

argued, the beginning of the new life and the communion with the

cult god were connected with certain ceremonial acts. So it was also

in the mystery religions. Therefore Paulinism is to be understood in

connection with the mysteries.

But the interpretation of the Pauline Epistles upon which this

hypothesis is based is fraught with serious difficulty. Did Paul

really conceive of the sacraments as conveying their blessing _ex

opere operato_? The general character of the Epistles certainly

points in an opposite direction. An unprejudiced reader of the

Epistles as a whole certainly receives the impression that the

writer laid extraordinarily little stress upon forms and ceremonies.

Salvation according to Paul was dependent solely upon faith, the

simple acceptance of the offer contained in the message of the

Cross. Any connection of such a religion with external forms seems

even to be excluded expressly by the Epistle to the Galatians. A

dispensation of forms and ceremonies, according to that Epistle,

belongs to the period of childish bondage from which Christ has set

men free.

Yet such a writer, it is maintained, actually taught that the mere

act of baptism conveyed the blessing of a new life and the mere

partaking of food and drink conveyed the blessing of communion

with the risen Christ. The supposition seems at first sight to be

preposterous. If it is to be established, it can only be on the

basis of the clearest kind of evidence.

The evidence, it should be noted at the start, is at any rate

decidedly limited in extent. It is only in the First Epistle to the

Corinthians that Paul mentions the Lord's Supper at all, and it is

only in Rom. vi and Col. ii. 12 that baptism is connected with the

death and resurrection which the believer is said to have shared

with Christ. The limited extent of the evidence may in itself be

significant. If Paul held the high sacramentarian view of baptism

and the Lord's Supper, it seems a little strange that he should

have laid so little stress upon the sacraments. High sacramentarians

of all ages have preserved a very different proportion. It seems

still more strange, perhaps, that Paul should have said that

Christ sent him not to baptize but to preach the gospel (1 Cor. i.

17). On the _ex opere operato_ view of baptism, baptism was the

highest possible function. Could an apostle who held that view

have attributed relatively so little importance to it? In order to

appreciate how much less importance is attributed in the Epistles

to baptism and the Lord's Supper than to certain other elements in

Paul's teaching, it is only necessary to compare the references to

the sacraments with the references to faith. The fact is perfectly

plain. When Paul speaks, in the large, about the way of salvation,

it never seems to occur to him to mention the sacraments; what he

does think of is the message of the gospel and the simple acceptance

of it through faith.

These facts are sometimes admitted even by those who attribute a

high sacramentarian view of the sacraments to Paul; Paulinism when

taken as a whole, it is admitted, is certainly not a sacramentarian

religion. What has happened, then, it is supposed, is that Paul

has retained in the doctrine of the sacraments an element derived

from a lower type of religion, an unassimilated remnant of the type

of religion which is represented by the mystery cults. Thus the

Pauline doctrine of the sacraments is thought to introduce a glaring

contradiction into the thought and life of Paul.

Can such a glaring contradiction be attributed to Paul? It could

probably be attributed to Hermes Trismegistus. But can it be

attributed to Paul? The writer of the Pauline Epistles was no mere

compiler, receiving unassimilated materials from many sources. He

was a person of highly marked characteristics. And he was a person

of commanding intellect. Could such a writer have introduced a

glaring contradiction into the very center of his teaching? Could a

writer who in the great mass of his writing is triumphantly and even

polemically anti-sacramentarian have maintained all along a crassly

sacramentarian view of the way in which religious blessing was to be

obtained?

An affirmative answer to these questions could be rendered only on

the basis of positive evidence of the most unequivocal kind. And

such positive evidence is not forthcoming. The most that can by any

possibility be said for the strictly sacramentarian interpretation

of Rom. vi is that it is possible. It might conceivably be adopted

if Rom. vi stood alone. But as a matter of fact Rom. vi does

not stand alone; it stands in the midst of a considerable body

of Pauline Epistles. And it must be interpreted in the light of

what Paul says elsewhere. If Rom. vi stood absolutely alone, Paul

might conceivably be thought to mean that the act of baptism in

itself involves a dying with Christ and a rising with Him to a new

life. But the whole character of the Pauline Epistles absolutely

precludes such an interpretation. And another interpretation does

full justice to the words as they stand. That interpretation is the

obvious one which makes the act of baptism an outward sign of an

inner experience. "We were buried with him," says Paul, "through

baptism unto death." These words are pressed by the modern school of

comparative religion very much as Luther at the Marburg Conference

pressed the Latin words of institution of the Lord's Supper. Luther

wrote on the table, "This is my body" ("hoc est corpus meum"), and

would not hear of anything but the most literal interpretation of

the words. So the modern school of comparative religion presses the

words "through baptism" in Rom. vi. 4. "We were buried with him

through baptism," says Paul. Therefore, it is said, since it was

through baptism, it was not through faith, or through any inner

disposition of the soul; therefore the sacramentarian interpretation

is correct. But if Luther's over-literalness, fraught with such

disastrous consequences for the Church, is deserted by most

advocates of the grammatico-historical method of exegesis, should an

equally bald literalness be insisted upon in connection with Rom.

vi. 4?

Interpreted in connection with the whole trend of the Epistles, the

sixth chapter of Romans contains an appeal to the outward sign of

an inner experience. It is perfectly natural that Paul should here

appeal to the outward sign rather than to the inner experience.

Paul desires to strengthen in his readers the conviction that the

life which they are leading as Christians is a new life in which

sin can have no place. Unquestionably he might have appealed to

the faith which had been the means by which the new life had been

begun. But faith is not something that can be seen. Baptism, on the

other hand, was a plain and obvious fact. To use a modern term, it

"visualized" faith. And it is just the visualizing of faith that

Paul here desires. When the Roman Christians were baptized, they

were convinced that the act meant a dying with Christ and a rising

with Him; it meant the beginning of their Christian life. It was a

solemn and a definite act. It was something that could be seen as

well as felt. Conceivably, indeed, the act in itself might have been

unaccompanied by faith. But in the early Church such cases were no

doubt extremely rare. They could therefore be left out of account

by Paul. Paul assumes--and no doubt he is correct--that, whatever

might conceivably have been the case, as a matter of fact when any

one of the Roman Christians was baptized he died and rose again

with Christ. But Paul does not say that the dying and rising again

was produced by the external act otherwise than as that act was an

expression of faith. Here, however, it is to the external act that

he appeals, because it is the external act which can be seen and can

be realized. It can only be because the newness of the Christian

life is not realized that Christians can think of it as permitting a

continuance in sin. What enables it to be realized is that which can

actually be seen, namely, the external and obvious fact of baptism.

In other words, baptism is here made to discharge in typical fashion

its divinely appointed function as an external sign of an inner

experience, and an external sign which is made the vehicle of

special blessing.

A similar interpretation may be applied to all the references to

the sacraments which occur in the Pauline Epistles. What sometimes

produces the impression of an _ex opere operato_ conception of the

sacraments is that Paul does not take into account the possibility

that the sacraments might be unaccompanied by faith. So in Gal.

iii. 27 he says, "All ye who were baptized into Christ did put on

Christ." These words if taken alone might mean that every man,

whatever the condition of his soul, who went through the external

form of baptism had put on Christ. But of course as a matter of

fact Paul means nothing of the kind. What he does mean is that the

baptism of the Galatians, since that baptism was accompanied by

faith (Gal. iii. 2), meant in that concrete case the putting on of

Christ. Here again there is an appeal, in the presence of those who

were in danger of forgetting spiritual facts, to the external sign

which no one could forget.

This interpretation cannot be invalidated by the passages which

have been appealed to as supporting a crassly _ex opere operato_

conception of the sacraments. In 1 Cor. xi. 30, for example, Paul

says that because of an unworthy partaking of the Lord's Supper many

of the Corinthians were ill and many had died. But these words need

not necessarily mean that the bread and wine, because of a dangerous

magical virtue that was in them, had inflicted harm upon those who

had not used them aright. They may mean at least equally well that

the physical ills of the Corinthians were a chastisement which had

been inflicted by God. As for 1 Cor. xv. 29 (baptism in behalf of

the dead), it can be said at least that that verse is isolated and

exceedingly obscure, and that it is bad historical method to allow

what is obscure to color the interpretation of what is plain. Many

interpretations of the verse have been proposed. And it is by no

means clear that Paul lent his own support to the custom to which

reference is here made.

Thus it cannot be maintained that Paulinism was like the pagan

mysteries even in the general sense that both Paulinism and

the mysteries connected salvation with external acts. The acts

themselves were different; and the meaning of the acts was still

more diverse. An element of truth does indeed underlie the

sacramentarian interpretation of Paul. The element of truth consists

in the protest which is here raised against the interpretation which

has sometimes been favored by "liberal" scholars. According to

this liberal interpretation, when Paul speaks of dying and rising

with Christ he is referring to a purely ethical fact; when he says

that he has died to the Law, he means that he has made a radical

break with an external, legalistic type of religion; when he says

that it is no longer he that lives but Christ that lives in him,

he means that he has made Christ his supreme guide and example;

when he says that through the Cross of Christ he has been crucified

to the world, he means that the Cross has led him to renounce all

worldliness of purpose. Such interpretation is exceedingly common.

But it is radically false. It is false because it does away with

the supernaturalism of Paul's teaching. There could be no greater

mistake than that of making salvation according to Paul an affair

of the human will. On the contrary, the very essence of Pauline

teaching is supernaturlism. Salvation, according to Paul, is based

upon a supernatural act of God--the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

And equally supernatural is the application of salvation to the

individual. The new creation which stands at the beginning of the

Christian life is according to Paul just as little a product of

natural forces, and just as little a product of the human will, as

the first creation was. The modern school of comparative religion is

entirely correct in insisting upon the thoroughgoing supernaturalism

of the Pauline gospel. Paulinism is a redemptive religion in the

most thoroughgoing sense of the word; it finds salvation, not in a

decision of the human will, but in an act of God.

But the error comes in confusing supernaturalism with

sacramentalism. Paul's conception of salvation is supernatural,

but it is not external. It is indeed just as supernatural as if it

were external. The beginning of a man's Christian life, according

to Paul, is just as little a product of his own moral forces, just

as little a product of any mere moral influence brought to bear

upon him, as it would be if it were produced by the water into

which he was dipped or the bread and wine of which he partakes.

Conceivably God might have chosen to use such means. If He had done

so, His action would have been not one whit more supernatural than

it actually is. But as a matter of fact, He has chosen, in His

mysterious wisdom, to use the means of faith. Such is the teaching

of Paul. It is highly distasteful to the modern liberal Church. But

even if it is to be rejected it should at least be recognized as

Pauline.

Thus the interpretation of the sacraments which is proposed by

the modern school of comparative religion--and indeed the whole

modern radical treatment of Paulinism as a thoroughgoing religion

of redemption--marks a reaction against the modernizing exegesis

which was practised by the liberal school. But the reaction has at

any rate gone too far. It cannot be said that the newer exegesis is

any more objective than the liberal exegesis which it endeavors to

replace. The liberal scholars were concerned to keep Paul as near

as possible to their modern naturalistic principles, in order to

continue to use him for the edification of the Church; the radical

scholars of the school of comparative religion are concerned

to keep him as far away as possible from modern naturalistic

principles in order to bring him into connection with the crass

externalism of the mystery religions. Neither group has attained

the whole truth. The Pauline conception of salvation is just as

spiritual as it is thought to be by the liberal scholars; but on the

other hand, it is just as supernatural as it is represented as being

by Reitzenstein and Bousset.