Covenental Nomism in 1 Clement

I was recently given the task to lecture on the "New Perspective" for an undergraduate class on the Pauline Epistles. The class was made up of Bible College students who were, for the most part, completely unfamiliar with the debate. Thankfully, they were already initiated through an assigned reading of James Dunn and Alan Suggate's short but helpful book, The Justice of God: A Fresh Look at the Old Doctrine of Justification by Faith. The basic thesis of the book is that justification, when read from the perspective of Paul and Second Temple Judaism rather than Luther, has profound social dimensions and cannot be limited to individuals' salvation from hell. Most students enjoyed Dunn and Suggate even if there were not totally convinced.

I spent a lot of time introducing students to Sanders' articulation of "Covenantal Nomism" which he defines as:

The view that one's place in God's plan is established on the basis of the covenant and that the covenant requires as the proper response of man his obedience to its commandments, while providing means of atonement for transgression [. . .] Obedience maintains one's position in the covenant, but it does not earn God's grace as such [. . .]. Righteousness in Judaism is the term which implies the maintenance of status among the group of the elect. (Paul and Palestinian Judaism, 75, 420, 544) – Dunn pieces together this definition in Jesus, Paul and the Law 186.

None of this is new or surprising to anyone reading in Pauline scholarship for the last forty years. Sanders' argument, though not without its detractors, has basically won the majority of scholars. It is now widely accepted that first century Jews, for the most part, did not consider their salvation to be dependent on "earning," but were firmly convinced that their salvation was a result of God's gracious election in the covenant. However, their obedience, or rather disobedience, could place them outside of that covenant.

I suggest that 1 Clement displays precisely the same thought pattern. In the midst of his argument for unity and reestablishment of the displaced Corinthian leadership, Clement makes an argument for election leading to obedience/good works and disobedience leading to a judgment that places the elect Corinthians outside of God's covenantal grace.

Clement encourages the Corinthians to worship boldly since God the Father has "made us his chosen portion [ἐκλογῆς μέρος]" (1 Clem 29.1). "Portion" is the word used in the LXX to describe the land Israel was promised to inherit (Num 18.20; Deut 12.12; 14.27). "Chosen" is an obvious word for election and is likewise used in the LXX to refer to the specific choosing of a group within the already chosen people of Israel (Num 16.5, 7; 17.20; cf. 1 Sam 17.8). Clement then cites a series of passages from Deuteronomy proclaiming God's election of Israel (1 Clem. 29.2-3; Deut 32.8-9; 4.34; 14.2; Num 18.27). Drawing from OT theology of election, then, Clement describes the elect status of the Corinthian churches.

Having firmly established his election theology based on God's grace – a grace he will clearly describe coming through Jesus (1 Clem 32.4) – Clement argues for obedience. "Since then we are a holy portion, we should do everything that pertains to holiness" (30.1). Clement exhorts the Corinthians to cling to their election by their obedience. Not surprisingly, Clement draws from the example of Abraham and Isaac (31.2‒3). God's gracious election leads to obedience, but this obedience does not earn grace. Rather, obedience is the proper response to God's previous elective action.

In a rhetorical aside, similar to Romans 6.1, Clement wonders if God's work in believers prompts laziness. "Shall we grow idle and not do what is good? Shall we abandon our acts of love?" (33.1). The obvious answer, like Paul's μὴ γένοιτο, is "of course not." Instead, God's work in believers ought to stimulate them to "hasten with fervor and zeal to complete every good work" (33.1). According to Clement, believers ought to reflect the image of God (33.4‒7), which means his good creative action, and so "with all our strength we should engage in righteous work" (33.8). Clement is then explicit that believers will be judged according to their "works" (34.3; cf. Rev 22.12). Since eschatological glory is beyond comparison (34.8 citing 1 Cor 2.9; 1 Clem. 35.1‒3) believers ought to "strive to be counted among those who wait" for that promised glory (35.4). How do believers wait? Clement is explicit that believers must "seek after what is pleasing and acceptable" to God and by "casting off from ourselves all injustice and lawlessness, greed, strife, malice and deceit, gossip and slander, hatred of God, haughtiness and arrogance, vanity and inhospitality" (35.5). The Corinthians to whom Clement writes are in the gracious covenant through Jesus. Their failure to adhere to the covenant obligations, however, will result in their judgment.

Clement, not unlike Paul and Second Temple Judaism as a whole, is clear that human effort is part of salvation. This does not equate to "earning" salvation, but it is articulated as placement in the covenant people of God. Clement, then, fits in the pattern of Second Temple Jewish "covenantal nomism."

What exactly began in Jerusalem?

The phrase "historical Jesus" is a rare example of the language of NT scholarship finding its way into common parlance. Since at least the nineteenth century many scholars have assumed that the traditions about Jesus found in the gospels reflect the communities which used and produced those traditions more than the historical person of Jesus. There is certainly some validity to this assertion. The gospels are not concerned with producing "history" in the modern sense. One of the difficulties with this suggestion, however, is that it assumes we know quite a lot about these early communities. This is simply not the case. As Dunn points out (following F. G. Downing) "the primitive church(es) were (on such a reckoning) as much an unknown as Jesus" (3). One cannot assume that Jesus tradition reflects a community rather than Jesus when less is known about the community than traditions about Jesus.

What then can be known about these early communities? Dunn specifically focuses on these communities from AD 30 to 70. He begins by defining what exactly it is that began in Jerusalem. His goal is to describe "from within" what began in Jerusalem‒ "to ask how the participants understood themselves and what was happening, when horizons were limited and outcomes unknown" (5). Dunn wants to articulate how these early communities saw themselves not how later historians describe them as the birth of a new religion.

What descriptors then are appropriate? This seemingly simple question has as many as seventeen possible answers. Rather than rehearse each of these options and the arguments for and against, I want to highlight just a few to observe overused anachronisms and underemphasized dimensions.

First, overused anachronistic titles are common. There are two in this category that are especially striking. The most overused anachronism to describe the early Jesus communities is "Christianity." To speak of "Christianity" before the 110s is incorrect. "Properly speaking, 'Christianity' did not yet exist" (5). The title first appears as a negative label given from the outside in Acts 11.26 (cf. Acts 26.28; 1 Pet 4.16; Ignatius, Eph. 11.2; Magn. 4; Trall. 6.1; Rom. 3.2; Pol. 7.3; Mart. Polycarp 3.2; 10.1; 12.1‒2; Did. 12.4; Diogn. 1.1; 2.6, 10; 4.6; 5.1; 6.1-9; Pliny, Ep. 10.96). Some have endeavored to qualify it as "primitive" Christianity or "emergent" Christianity. The chief problem with this is that it obscures a crucial question to the whole discussion: "what are the distinctives of Christianity, and when did they first emerge?" (6). "Christianity" is certainly what developed from Jerusalem, but not until decades later.

The second most overused descriptor is "church." The aware reader will contest, "But ekklēsia is a common NT word occurring 23 times in Acts, 62 times in Paul and 20 times in Revelation!" This is a true and important point that makes "church" a more helpful descriptor than "Christianity" but it suffers from its own problems as well. "Church" today does not mean what ekklēsia meant. The contemporary word "implies a unified entity" that did not exist. Certainly, this was the ideal quite early (Eph 1.22; 3.10; 3.21-4.6; Col 1.18, 24; 1 Cor 12.28; Gal 1.13). The singular "church" obscures the diversity that existed in these early movements.

It is now worth considering some of the descriptors that are less obvious and perhaps even surprising. It might be shocking to some, but "synagogue" appears as a descriptor of the early Jesus movement (James 2.2; cf. Ignatius Pol. 4.2; Hermas Mand. 11.9‒14; T. Ben. 11.2; Justin Dialog. 63.5; Irenaeus Against Her. 4.31.1). This term is not widespread or distinctive enough to carry the freight of describing the early Jesus movement, but it is indicative of the fact that early believers (another possible descriptor) were Jews being Jews following a Messiah. They were not "starting a new religion." "Saints," is particularly common in Paul and Revelation. Like "synagogue" it emphasizes the Jewish character of early believers for it claims "participation in the heritage of Israel" (12). It is a Jewish term (Pss 16.3; 34.9; Dan 7.18; 8.24; Tob 8.15; Wis 18.9; 1QSb 3.2; 1QM 3.5) that denotes a specific theological status within Israel (Pss. Sol. 17.26; 1QS 5.13; 8.17, 20, 23; 9.18; 1 Enoch 38.4-5; 43.4; 48.1; 50.1; etc.). The Jewishness of "Saints" is later obscured by hostile relations and the use of the term in later Christianity to refer to a special group of believers.

The most surprising of Dunn's suggestions for appropriate descriptors is "the poor." I was caught off guard at the suggestion that "the poor" could describe the early believers, thus betraying my western capitalist perspective. It is a descriptor that is rooted in the tradition of Israel (esp. Pss 69.32; 72.2), is used by Paul (Rom 15.26) and reflects Jesus' activity. In the end, the phrase is not broad enough to describe the early believers, but the fact that it's even an option is telling.

From these and the many other options, Dunn draws four helpful conclusions. First, no one term or descriptor can bear the load of describing the early Jesus movement. A number of terms are useful including: "believers," perhaps "disciples," "saints," "the Way," or even "Nazarenes." The diversity of terms is necessary to keep from one term becoming "unduly normative" (15). Second, the needed variety of descriptors indicates the multiform character of those following "the Way." As Dunn observes, "The 'Christianity' which was beginning to emerge in the 30s was not a single 'thing' but a whole sequence of relationships, of emerging perspectives of attitude and belief, of developing patterns of interaction and worship, of conduct and mission" (16). Third, the observably coherent center is "continuity with the mission of Jesus" (16). What and exactly how Jesus was honored is a question, but he was the central defining feature of these early believers. Fourth, these disciples were distinctively Jewish.

It began from Jerusalem‒ a diversely defined group of Jews who followed, honored and at some point worshiped Jesus as God.

Beginning “Beginning from Jerusalem”

James Dunn is one of my favorite New Testament scholars. Not only am I quite taken with much in regard to his "New Perspective" readings of Paul and his seminal Romans commentary, but he's a scholar that is worth following on a number of levels. First, he is intellectually honest. He is willing to draw conclusions that he sees in the evidence. Obviously, "evidence" only speaks when put to use in a historian's argument, but there is a way to do this that is activist and a way that is honest, or at least as honest as possible. I find Dunn wrestling to be as honest as possible, both with himself and his "evidence." Second, he is diligent in working through primary sources. I often find myself buried in piles of books written about the NT and its milieu. This is certainly a worthwhile pursuit, but there is simply no way to think through the NT without constant direct engagement. Third, Dunn is creative and insightful. Say what you will about the "New Perspective" but Dunn's imaginative reading of Paul post-Sanders is nothing short of a brilliantly reexamination of Paul's work in Romans and Galatians. For these reasons and many others James Dunn is a scholar worthy of much attention.

Currently, Dunn is producing a trilogy called "Christianity in the Making." The first volume, Jesus Remembered (2003), was a comprehensive (992 pgs) look at the "historical Jesus." I have not read the first volume, so I won't pontificate ignorantly. There are a couple of reviews of the first volume here and here. Dale C. Allison Jr. a notable NT scholar in his own right (and another personal favorite) described Jesus Remembered this way,

This is not just one more book on Jesus but rather an esteemed scholar's wide-ranging presentation of conclusions arrived at over a lifetime of informed, critical reflection. It is full of good sense and much learning. As always, James Dunn's work is characterized not only by a genuine familiarity with Jesus' first-century Jewish world but also by an unsurpassed knowledge of the vast secondary literature. Especially suggestive is the consistent appeal to continuing oral tradition, which often appears justified.

So, if you're interested in something like that, go read it.


My current focus is Dunn's second volume, Beginning from Jerusalem. This volume focuses on the rise of the church from 30 to 70 AD which combined with Jesus' mission (the subject of Jesus Remembered), "are probably the most thoroughly investigated periods and subjects of all history" (xiii). This makes for an array of hypotheses and debates that baffle historians and informed laymen alike. Dunn's critical acumen and honest assessment is a welcome voice that I'm sure will bring much clarity to the period under consideration. 
The only problem with Dunn's book is that it commands about 3 ½ inches of shelf space consisting of 1347 pages! This is not really a problem if one desires a thorough account of the most thoroughly researched period in all of history. It is a problem, however, if you don't have hours to devote to one book. This morning, as I was choosing between the collection of literary options clamoring for my attention, my gaze landed on Beginning from Jerusalem. I was saddened by the fact that I knew I would not be able to read it through any time soon.

Then I thought, "Why not?"

Rather than trying to plow through all 1347 pages in large successive chunks, I will work through it slowly. It will allow me to reflect more and get through the book in at least a year. The added bonus of this approach is that I can blog through the book. It would be virtually impossible for me to write one critical review of this tome, though Michael Gorman has done just that here. Reading manageable portions will allow me to reflect and gain input from anyone else willing to comment. As always, I welcome the thoughts and challenges of anyone willing to offer them.

Today I began Beginning from Jerusalem. I hope you'll join me in the journey.

As an opening question for consideration I wonder what others like or dislike about Dunn's work? Why?