The "general reader" of Paul's letter to the Philippians will be greeted with familiar problems, the solution of which requires the assistance of scholars unburdened by fundamentalist dogma. It's possible to piece together a candidate for the letter's occasion--it's Paul's version of a thank-you note to the church at Philippi for having sent to him, by the hand of one Epaphroditus, a gift of money. The passages from which such a conclusion might be formed are found at 2:25-30 and 4:10-20. In that case, however, why does it take Paul so long--almost two full chapters--to mention the ostensible reason for having taken up his pen? Moreover, why are the thank-you passages separated by a block of material in a wholly different tone, that of a Pauline screed against the Judaizing proponents of circumcision? Lest you think I'm exaggerating how abruptly the tone shifts, consider:
So receive [Epaphroditus] in the Lord with all joy; and honor such men, for he nearly died for the work of Christ, risking his life to complete your service to me.
Finally, my brethren, rejoice in the Lord. To write the same things to you is not irksome to me, and is safe for you.
Look out for the dogs, look out for the evil-workers, look out for those who mutilate the flesh. For we are the true circumcision, who worship God in spirit, and glory in Christ Jesus, and put no confidence in the flesh.
This is 2:29 through 3:3, a continuous stretch of words made of the conclusion to the first thank-you passage and the opening of the screed. It's quite a bewildering transition, more of a jump than a transition, and, as with 2 Corinthians, the best explanation for the jumpiness is that the text of the "letter" is not a unity but rather a collection of fragments--three, perhaps, with endpoints at 3:1 and 4:9, though there is a range of scholarly opinion on details and degree of complexity. Keeping it simple, however, one might usefully think of the "letter" to the Philippians as consisting of:
- a fragment of a letter of thanks (4:10-20);
- a fragment of a follow-up letter in which Paul describes his own difficult circumstances before reiterating his thanks and insisting on the rectitude of Epaphroditus, whose tardy return after delivering the gift seems to have been the cause of some suspicion in Philippi (1:1-3:1); and
- a fragment of a polemic, or screed, against the Judaizing circumcisers (3:2-4:9)
I take it on faith that to adopt such a view you have to reject the notion that every word of Scripture is the inspired and inerrant word of God, but I could be under estimating the ingenuity of the fightin' fundies. Maybe it could be argued that it was the hand of God that caused portions of certain letters to be preserved, so that they could later be pasted together in a confusing pastiche that would nevertheless be normative for faith and practice, while allowing fragments of comparative chaff to be lost forever. Though it seems odd that we should have a wispy hint about, for example, the troubles of this Epaphroditus fellow. The chaff must have been of very little import indeed.
On the subject of hints, Philippians provides a few about the character of its author, and it's interesting to note that they are pretty much in line with what can be gleaned from Paul's other extant compositions. He is not warm or in any way effusive, unless you count anger when some theological tenet or question of personal authority is at stake. Here he is "thanking" the Philippians for their gift to him:
I rejoice in the Lord greatly that at length you have revived your concern for me; you were indeed concerned for me, but you had no opportunity. Not that I complain of want; for I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content. I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound; in any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and want. I can do all things in him who strengthens me. Yet it was kind of you to share my trouble.
One commentator, Ernst Lohmeyer, has glossed this passage as "thankless thanks": that is, "Thanks, but I didn't actually need it." The brief for the defense would assert that Paul's peevish manner must here be attributed to ambivalence about accepting money from a church he had established, which might leave him open to the kinds of attacks on his apostolic authority that he particularly detested. That he's badly conflicted on this question is suggested further by the way in which the passage wherein he thanks his benefactors is also a memorable statement of Christian stoicism, the source of which is a disdain for the things of the world. He liked the gift. He should not have liked it. As he wrote in Romans, he could will what was right but he could not do it.
This theme of what I'm calling Christian stoicism runs through Philippians. The most thoroughgoing expression had occurred in the first chapter, where Paul debates with himself, apparently for the edification of the Philippians, whether it would be better for him to die now or later:
For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain . . . . I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account.
So he'd die now, in order to "be with Christ," but that would deprive the Philippians of his instruction. He didn't continuously conceive of himself as "a wretched man"! And remember how, in the fourth chapter of 1 Thessalonians, Paul writes about how those "now asleep" will receive their reward at the Second Coming? In Philippians, he seems to think he anyway won't have to wait. Many of the most devout Christians seem cocksure about what they will experience "on the other side" but, judging from his writings, Paul is not among them.
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