Paul and the Language of Faith

1Beyond Belief

Paul’s Dynamic Faith Language

I believe in, credo in, means that I am not alone. In our glory and in our misery we men are not alone. God comes to meet us and as our Lord and Master. He comes to our aid. . . . One way or other, I am in all circumstances in company with Him. . . . Of ourselves we cannot achieve, have not achieved, and shall not achieve a togetherness with Him; that we have not deserved that He should be our God, have no power of disposal and no rights over Him, but that with unowed kindness, in the freedom of His majesty, He resolved of His own self to be man’s God, our God.

—Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline

To have faith is to be open, vulnerable. It is also to wince and to withdraw. For this reason, faithfulness has a plodding quality. It is more stick-to-itiveness than it is power and glory. The key to faith is persistence. In the face of sin—be it outright evil or simple distraction—it is very difficult to persevere in faith. In the presence of temptation—be it desire or disaster—it is difficult to remain faithful. Yet, for the religious Jew, there is only teshuvah, repentance or re-turning, as the compass needle always returns toward the north.

—David Blumenthal, The Place of Faith and Grace in Judaism

In St. Augustine’s sermon on John 20, in view of the resurrection appearances of Jesus to his disciples, he addresses the obvious problem of a human (risen) Jesus passing through a wall to present himself to his disciples. How is this possible? Augustine made appeal to the uniqueness of Jesus even before his death and resurrection (whereby, for example, he could walk on water, though he had normal body weight). But he finishes his thought with a striking notion: Where reason fails, faith builds up.¹ Augustine himself was far from being opposed to reason,² but there has admittedly been a problematic tension in the history of Christianity between faith and reason. There is, of course, very good reason why the term faith has become a distinctively Christian word. After all, the word πίστις, the Greek word often translated faith, is found hundreds of times in the New Testament (and over thirty-five times in Romans alone). Important words like faith, though, when overused, tend to get flattened out and have meanings and connotations attributed to it that do not go back to the faith language of Scripture, or do not represent the depth and richness of that word (group). There are three problematic trends in the way Christians (and others) use faith language in religious ways.

Faith as Opinion

A few years ago, I taught a course that introduced the basics of Christianity to first-year college students. Not long after day one, students began debating issues like the historical reliability of the Gospels and the ability to prove the resurrection or divinity of Jesus. I was particularly taken aback when a student tried to end a debate by saying, I don’t care about proving what I believe. I believe it by faith, and that should be enough. As the course went on, I began to notice a trend whereby students used the language of faith in a way someone would use the word opinion. In that sense, faith became a means of occluding conversation of an academic nature by removing any grounds for debate. I believe it by faith, in that context, meant that reasons were not needed, even perhaps that reason wasn’t needed. But is that what Paul meant when he talked about faith? I am afraid that many unknowingly buy into Mark Twain’s facetious dictum: faith is believing what you know ain’t so. We must return to the New Testament, and especially Paul, to see how a proper conception of Christian faith operates. What is the relationship between faith and reason?

Faith as Doctrine

A second typical use of faith language in modern religious vocabulary pertains to things like faith statements and faith traditions. Undoubtedly, we get this terminology from the early creeds—doctrinal statements that begin I believe (Latin credo). Thus, faith can be nearly synonymous with the language of doctrine or religion, as in interfaith dialogue. This is not an unreasonable association based on certain language in the New Testament (e.g., 1 Tim 4:6), but this kind of thinking, where faith equals doctrine, could degenerate into a kind of checklist mentality. This can turn faith into something sterile, purely cerebral, and even gnostic. In his book The Creed, Luke Timothy Johnson makes the point that πίστις is often translated faith in English versions of the New Testament, but, in fact, the Greek word has a broad range of meaning that covers a wide spectrum: belief, trust, endurance, loyalty, obedience. When we translate πίστις only as belief, the polyvalent nature of the term is suppressed and the cognitive dimension often dominates. Johnson finds this way of flatly translating or understanding πίστις deeply problematic in view of understanding the true nature of Christian confession and life.

One can hold a belief that something is true without letting the belief matter to one’s life. The entire Christian creed can be treated as a set of beliefs that amount to no more than interesting opinions. This is the sort of faith that the letter of James scorns: You believe that God is one. You do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder! (Jas 2:19 NRSV).³

Alternatively, Johnson explains that πίστις involves a response of the whole person.⁴ Part of what I wish to call for, then, is a patient (re)reading of Paul, the most πίστις-focused writer in the New Testament, in order to understand best how and why he employed πίστις terminology.

Faith as Passive

You might not be surprised to know that Martin Luther was fond of using faith language in reference to his conception of Christianity. In narrating his own epiphany about the true nature of righteousness through Christ, Luther writes:

At last, by the mercy of God, meditating day and night, I gave heed to the words, namely, In it the righteousness of God is revealed, as it is written, ‘He who through faith is righteous shall live.’ There I began to understand that the righteousness of God is revealed by the gospel, namely, the passive righteousness with which a merciful God justifies us by faith, as it is written, He who through faith is righteous shall live. Here I felt that I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates. There a totally other face of the entire Scripture showed itself to me.⁵

As Alister McGrath explains, Luther understood justification to involve the transference of an alien righteousness to unrighteous persons by faith: We are passive, and God is active, in our justification. Grace gives, and faith gratefully receives—and even that faith must itself be seen as a gracious gift of God.⁶

The heart of this notion of a passive receipt of righteousness seems close to how some characterize the nature of faith itself (though I do not think Luther himself ultimately favored a notion of passive faith; see 24–27). For example, Old Testament scholar Walter Kaiser summarizes the nonmeritorious acceptance of God’s grace in view of the exemplary faith of Abraham:

God does the accounting; God does the reckoning; God does the crediting; God does the justifying—the declaring of this man to be just. Abraham does nothing. God gave the promise which Abraham had only to receive. Sometimes the question is asked, Is believing a work in itself? Do we have faith in faith? Can we pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps? The answer, of course, is that faith is passive. It is a passive act. It is like receiving a Christmas present: we put out our hands to take, to accept, to receive. There is nothing more than a passive act here. We don’t earn our Christmas presents. The same is true with faith.⁷

The New Testament writers clearly believed that God gave a gift in his grace that no one deserves. Thus, it is fitting to talk about believers as recipients. But does the language of passivity fit the nature of Pauline πίστις? Did the word πίστις in Paul’s time communicate nonactivity, passivity, even a passive act?

One might appeal to Pauline language that juxtaposes faith and works (Rom 3:21–31; 9:32; Gal 2:16; cf. Eph 2:8–9). However, because of the complex history of the interpretation of Paul in the church and Western society, it is best to set a discussion of the Pauline language of faith (πίστις) on the right track by beginning with the Old Testament. Through a study that takes a particularly Jewish perspective on the language of faith, we can understand Paul’s theology in a way that goes beyond (merely) belief.

The Old Testament Foundation of Paul’s Use of Πίστις

Two times Paul quotes Hab 2:4 (the righteous will live by faith) in order to make a point about a Christian life determined by πίστις (Gal 3:11; Rom 1:17). That should be a key indicator that his own understanding of faith was highly (though not exclusively) influenced by the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament that was, for all intents and purposes, what Paul read as Scripture.⁸ Thus, in order to make the most sense of what Paul meant when he used the language of πίστις, it is necessary to investigate how the Septuagint translators used this word, especially in view of Hebrew/Aramaic terms and ideas. A substantial discussion of the use of πίστις is coming in chapter 3, but at this juncture it is crucial that a proper perspective on the scriptural use of faith language is adumbrated.

A study of the relationship between the Greek Septuagint and the Hebrew Old Testament demonstrates that, while the Septuagint translators used πίστις in relation to a number of Hebrew words, the three most common are אמן ,אמונה, and אמת. The first word, אמן, means trust or reliability. The second, אמונה, is quite similar.⁹ In contexts related to human relationships, אמונה often refers to those who have the capacity to remain stable (i.e., faithful) amid the unsettling circumstances of life, realizing God’s truth has established them.¹⁰ For example, the term is used of Moses’s hands as Aaron and Hur supported him on the hill of Rephidim (Exod 17:12). Thus, his hands were firm, steady, reliable.

The third term, אמת, can be translated faithfulness or dependability.¹¹ Isaiah 38:3 furnishes a helpful example. Here Hezekiah, having taken ill, pleads before God with these words: "Remember now, O LORD, I implore you, how I have walked before you in faithfulness [אמת] with a whole heart, and have done what is good in your sight" (NRSV).

Walter Brueggemann stresses how the Old Testament language of faith is everywhere associated with covenant relationship. Within this construct, faith has less to do with theological ideas per se than with the nature and integrity of a relationship of trust. Brueggemann writes:

Faith concerns attentive engagement in a promissory relationship. Only rarely does the Old Testament suggest that faith is a body of teaching that Israel is to believe. Israel’s faith does not necessarily lack normative substance nor is it vacuous, but the relationship is more elemental than the substantive teaching which reflects upon that relationship. That in the Old Testament faith is regarded as trust in is more elemental than assent to is a matter often discounted in formal theological articulations, but trust is not to be understood primarily in emotive terms. Trust is a practice that entails obedience to Torah [the law] and its specific requirements. Israel’s fidelity to Yahweh, not unlike fidelity in marriage, thus consists of concrete acts that take the other party with defining seriousness.¹²

This brief glance at faith language in the Old Testament offers enough evidence to put into question all three of the problematic ways that many modern readers of Paul view such terminology. Faith is neither mere religious opinion nor only doctrinal ideas. And certainly no Israelite or Jew reading the Hebrew Old Testament or the Greek Septuagint would find the word passive applicable to the use of such words in the faith semantic category.

Faith or Faithfulness?

Given that the Hebrew terms behind the use of πίστις in the Septuagint (chap. 3) refer to words that are often best translated faithfulness (or loyalty, reliability, commitment), why is it that where πίστις appears in Paul it is usually rendered faith by most English translations?¹³ This question is central to the concerns of this book and one, I hope, that every student of Paul will examine carefully.

Since the default translation of πίστις in most English translations is faith, it is instructive to observe where deviations tend to occur within these translations. First of all, nearly all translators are prone to translate πίστις faithfulness when it relates to the nature and activity of God. In Rom 3:3, for example, Paul writes, What if some were unfaithful [ἠπίστησάν]? Will their unfaithfulness [ἀπιστία] nullify God’s faithfulness [πίστις]? Almost every modern English translation renders πίστις faithfulness here, as it is in reference to the loyalty and reliability of God (e.g., NASB, NIV, ESV, RSV, NRSV, NET; cf. Hos 2:22 LXX).

A second example in the letters of Paul is instructive, this time from Galatians. Near the close of the epistle, Paul contrasts the obvious works of the flesh (e.g., impurity, idolatry, hatred, jealousy, factions) with the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness (πίστις), gentleness, and self-control (5:22–23). Richard Longenecker summarizes what is probably the perspective of most scholars who translate πίστις faithfulness here (but tend to render it faith everywhere else in Galatians):

Pistis, though used repeatedly elsewhere in Galatians to signify a person’s response of trust regarding God’s salvation provided in Christ Jesus, here undoubtedly means the ethical virtue of faithfulness. . . . Here . . . the subject is the believer and the context is determinative. For situated, as it is, amid eight other nouns in a list of human virtues, pistis must here be understood as well as the human virtue of faithfulness, that is produced in the believer’s life by the faithful God through his Spirit.¹⁴

Longenecker states that faith (as a response of trust) is the sort of default meaning for πίστις in Paul and that such a meaning is something sensibly distinct from faithfulness (which he implies is a less-common meaning of πίστις as it pertains to the believer). This appears similar to comments that Douglas Moo makes regarding the language of faith in Romans.¹⁵ It is almost as if there is a preference for viewing the operation of faith for Paul, almost by default, as something essentially internal (after all, Christians believe with their hearts and minds; Rom 10:10) or nonactive insofar as faithfulness would seem too active or too externally involved.¹⁶

In his commentary on Philemon, Markus Barth offers an interesting excursus on the interpretation of πίστις in Paul with a view toward whether the apostle means faith or faithfulness. Barth notes that it is not uncommon for Philemon commentators to treat the reference to πίστις in Phlm 5 as faith unto the Lord Jesus: I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith [πίστις] toward the Lord Jesus (NRSV). As expected, all of the major English translations have faith here (e.g., ASV, NASB, NIV, ESV, RSV, NRSV, NET). In that case, the impression is that Philemon is commended for his love for his Christian brothers and sisters and for his belief/faith in Jesus Christ. Barth observes that, while the idea of belief is important for Paul, translating πίστις as faith on this occasion may be missing his rhetorical and theological point. Because πίστις can have the meaning fidelity or loyalty, we must entertain the possibility that this is what Paul refers to here.¹⁷ Appealing to texts like 1 Thess 1:3 (work of faith) and Rom 1:5 (obedience of faith), Barth underscores the critical point that in many cases obedience and faith are not as neatly separable human operations as some interpreters of Paul presume them to be. With that in mind, when Paul uses ἀγάπη + πίστις, Barth surmises that these are not meant to be treated separately (i.e., love for saints, faith in the Lord Jesus). Rather, it makes more sense to see them together, perhaps even as a hendiadys: steadfast love which you have for the Lord Jesus and for all the saints.¹⁸ Is Barth correct about this active nature of πίστις in Phlm 5? Should πίστις be best understood in this context as belief (something essentially cognitive) or faithfulness (something active and encompassing the whole person and blending into the concept of obedience)?

Part of the confusion comes from the polyvalent nature of the word πίστις itself. To simplify an explanation of how πίστις can stretch to cover either belief or faithfulness, we might look at the key cognate Greek words that appear in the New Testament. On the one hand the verb πιστεύω means I believe (and almost never I obey or I show faithfulness).¹⁹ On the other hand the adjective πιστός means faithful.²⁰ In the New Testament, πίστις can cover the spectrum of these cognate words. Thus, πίστις can have at least two distinct (but related) meanings in Paul’s letters: belief and faithfulness.

Meaning #1: Believing Faith (Πίστις as Belief)

While I express caution regarding the treatment of πίστις as a passive form of faith, there is sufficient evidence in Paul (and elsewhere in the New Testament) to establish a connotation of πίστις focused on cognition, the proper operation of the mind and heart with respect to revelation and truth, what Markus Barth refers to as an epistemological and hermeneutical sense.²¹ When πίστις is used in this way, the emphasis falls on the proper method of perception, which is at odds with worldly knowledge and mere human ways of seeing reality (see chap. 6 on 1 Corinthians and chap. 7 on 2 Corinthians). Barth, quite appropriately, appeals to Heb 11:1, where πίστις is defined as the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (NRSV).²² When used in this way, πίστις represents a kind of divinely enabled extrasensory perception, a second way of seeing and knowing. One can have confidence in what appears invisible—not because it is mere hunch or opinion, but because he or she has been given access to a perceptual key that unlocks a divine reality. Perhaps the best example of this, for Paul, comes in 2 Cor 5, where he proclaims we walk by faith, not by sight (5:7 NRSV). Paul commends a faith that goes beyond appearances, the mind must activate a new lens of perception.²³ In chapters 6–7 below, I highlight occasions where Paul employs πίστις with more emphasis on this kind of semantic nuance.

Meaning #2: Obeying Faith (Πίστις as Faithfulness)

For this second shade of the meaning of πίστις, Barth appeals to the concept of covenant in the Old Testament and how faithfulness is a social platform central to the divine-human relationship, a relationship that expects love, goodwill, mutuality, and loyalty from both sides.²⁴ It will be a major burden of this book to make this case more extensively (see chap. 5), but for this brief description, let us look at Matt 23:23. In a denunciation of the disingenuous behavior and myopia of the scribes and Pharisees, Jesus makes this accusation: Woe to you, experts in the law and you Pharisees, hypocrites! For you give a tenth of mint, dill, and cumin, yet you have neglected the weightier provisions of the law: justice, mercy, and faithfulness [πίστις]; but these are the things you should have done without neglecting the other (NET).²⁵ Ulrich Luz summarizes the perspective of most commentators on why πίστις here ought to be translated faithfulness (and not faith):

Faithfulness/faith here cannot mean faith in Jesus, nor can it meant the faith of prayer or the active faith that performs works of love, for faith is never for Matthew the essence of the requirements of the law. Instead, we are to understand [πίστις] in the tradition of biblical language, but also as is understandable for Greeks, as faithfulness.²⁶

Some resistance against this interpretation offered by Luz appears in the discussion of this passage by Matthean commentators W. D. Davies and D. C. Allison. They argue that πίστις cannot mean faithfulness because Matthew never really means it that way elsewhere. Thus, it should be translated faith.²⁷ What Davies and Allison seem to be missing, though, is that the Matthean Jesus implies that justice, mercy, and πίστις are things that the scribes and Pharisees have failed to do (ποιέω). Elsewhere in Matthew (when he refers to "believing faith"), verbs of doing (like ποιέω) are not associated with πίστις, but it would be altogether appropriate in 23:23, where there is an ethical core to how πίστις is being used.²⁸

While I have only touched on the meaning of πίστις as obeying faith, something that one does, it should prove sufficient for now to demonstrate the more active nature of πίστις at least in some instances.

The challenge with the polyvalent nature of πίστις, though, is not that it can mean two different things (a similar situation is seen with παῖς, which can mean servant or child; it obviously means only one or the other in virtually all circumstances, so context usually clarifies which meaning is intended in a particular discourse). Πίστις is far more complex. The two possible meanings (believing faith and obeying faith) of this word are related and sometimes, perhaps often, blended or indistinguishable in usage. Thus, we inevitably must account for this by bringing in a third meaning or value of πίστις, which somehow meets the two meanings in the middle or perhaps widens to overlap them both.

Meaning #3: Trusting Faith (Πίστις as Trust)

It is helpful to think of the meaning of πίστις not in isolated zones, but rather along a kind of spectrum:

The problem is that most of the time Paul is not wanting to refer to just one extreme of this semantic line, though there is this possibility. Where Paul’s meaning in any given contextualized usage lies must be determined on a case-by-case basis. Instead of thinking about the semantics of πίστις in zone terms, we must consider that his meaning may modulate, moving across this spectrum according to his intended meaning.

If Paul does not always want to land on one side of this pole, how should we represent that? There may be times (I would argue many times) where we must recognize a meaning of πίστις in Paul that tries to encapsulate both of these polarized values. We can call this "trusting faith":

Why the choice of the word trust? After all, it is relatively unpopular as a rendering of πίστις in English translations of the Bible. Richard Hays advocates for the use of the English word trust to represent πίστις (generally speaking) precisely because it heals the breach, so to speak, between the cognitive aspects of the word’s possible meaning and the active (behavioral/practical) valence of the word. Hays remarks that he prefers trust over have faith especially because there is a tendency to read faith/belief language as a subjective attitude of the individual believer that could mislead readers of Paul into thinking that the apostle places his soteriological emphasis on held beliefs rather than relational trust.²⁹ Hays finds trust especially appropriate to articulate Pauline πίστις because it can carry at the same time the cognitive dimensions of choosing to think rightly about God as well as the covenantal dimensions of commitment to obedience.

While it is difficult to parcel out the differences between belief, trust, and faithfulness in any precise way, I artificially use the following model for heuristic purposes:

Believing faith is cognitively active: believing is something you do with your mind. It is a function of thought (cf. Matt 21:32).

Obeying faith is relationally active: faithfulness is understood in this discussion as an active form of loyalty and obedience. As noted above, scholars tend to associate it with virtues and ethical practices like love and perseverance. Insofar as it may be observed, we can say it is a function of the active self, the self-in-relationship where loyalty can be demonstrated.

Trusting faith is volitionally active: volition, or will, is a calculated word choice for trusting faith because we use the word will in English to represent something preactive (will to act) and also sometimes active in itself (goodwill). The work of the will appears central to the relational commitment of a person to another and, thus, perfectly captures how Paul seems to use πίστις in a large number of cases.

While it would prove difficult in some circumstances to designate a particular occurrence of πίστις as one of these options in a neat way, still it helps the reader of Paul theoretically to keep in mind the unique way that πίστις operates as a polyvalent noun that can modulate across a spectrum of semantic nuances.

Is This a Book about the Πίστις Χριστοῦ (Faith of Christ) Debate?

When I first began research for this book and I shared with colleagues my interest in exploring Paul’s language of faith, the most common response was: so you are writing on the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate? That certainly says something about the longevity and intensity of that particular scholarly discussion, but that has never been a direct interest of mine.³⁰ First and foremost, I find that scholars and armchair readers of Paul often gloss over Paul’s faith language, presuming what he means (religious beliefs) rather than examining it in its unique semantic breadth and theological depth. Second, I want to place, as it were, Paul’s use of πίστις in relation to how Jews and pagans used the same word within and outside of religious discourse. It is easy to assume that faith is