91-

THE ΔIAΘHKH FROM DURHAM:

PROFESSOR DUNN’S THE THEOLOGY OF PAUL THE APOSTLE

Douglas A. Campbell
Department of Theology & Religious Studies, King’s College London
University of London, Strand, London WC2R 21S

My conclusions concerning Professor J.D.G. Dunn’s recent book are, in

a nutshell, that it is very impressive on a general level, although it does

not advance his own distinctive research agenda so much as summarize

it. It is also a fearsomely comprehensive collation of material, both pri-
mary and secondary, and as such an effort few could match. Fur-
thermore, I have little doubt that as a result it will often prove

extremely useful-it will be ’an indispensable quarry’, to borrow

Bishop Robinson’s felicitous phrase. On these scores Dunn richly
deserves our congratulation. However, beyond these impressive tech-
nical dimensions, I have also at times found this a confusing account of
Paul. Dunn is comfortable with a level of inconsistency in the descrip-
tion of Paul’s thought that I find uncomfortable and even method-
ologically risky. In addition, at the end of the day a rather traditional
conditional reading of Paul’s gospel still nevertheless emerged through
the more general amalgam of perspectives (a reading often associ-
ated-somewhat inaccurately-with the approach of Protestantism as a
whole). Indeed, at this point I found myself wondering if the so-called
Lutheran conundrums, so firmly repudiated by Dunn, had in fact been
avoided in structural and descriptive terms. But such claims require
further discussion.

l. The Question of Inconsistency

Dunn is quite comfortable with inconsistency-although he repudiates
the degree asserted by Sanders and Rdisdnen, claiming thereby a
92

fundamental consistency for Paul.’ I see several levels here: the

acknowledged, the unacknowledged, the acceptable, the dubious, the
methodological implications of this, and the related issue of con-
tingency.
Frequently in this study Dunn juxtaposes contrasting summaries of
aspects of Paul’s thought, maintaining essentially that these do not need
to be reconciled. Similarly, he often states that Paul’s views on a given
issue are not clear (formally speaking, the former are usually a sub-set
of the latter). The following is a small sample of some overt unclarities
and inconsistencies:
Paul’s views of the heavenly powers and Satan are ’not very clear’
(p. 108) and’blurred’ (p. 109).

Paul’s view of sin is both structural-social crnd one of personal responsi-

bility-Paul’s ’ambiguity’ here should be admitted (p. 97).
Paul’s view of the law, especially role four, is ’unclear’ (2x, p. 160)-in
fact, there are no less than six important functions for the law! (see esp.
pp. 159-61; and see below for further discussion).
The atonement is described as both metaphorically complex and cen-
trally illuminated by sacritice: ’...no one metaphor is adequate to unfold
the full significance of Christ’s death. The fact that they do not always fit
well together ... makes the same point!’ (p. 231). ’It is... [however]
doubtful whether such a central metaphor as &dquo;sacrifice&dquo; can be dis-
carded’ (the only metaphor so privileged, p. 233)-although Paul’s texts
concerning sacrifice vis-~-vis others are also ’not very clear’ (p. 281 ).
’In all this it is clear that Paul’s understanding of God’s purpose and of
God’s revelation has been radically altered, but not his understanding of
God as one and finally sovereign. Jesus as Lord shares in that sovere-
ignty and exercises it at least in part. If at least the exalted Christ is con-
ceived of as God’s vice-regent, it is not clear what the implied &dquo;more
than (vice-regent)&dquo; amounts to’ (p. 255).

’The obvious conclusion to draw from all this is that the different
imagery is not in fact mutually consistent, and any attempt to integrate it
in a single portrayal would be conceptually confusing, to say the least’;
but ’ ‘ ... the common theme to all the imagery-God’s purpose for sal-
vation, now and in the future, as focused in and explicated by Christ-is
what matters’ (p. 315).

1. See The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998),
p. 19 n. 55—all references following are from this book unless otherwise stated.
 93

Unfortunately, the sample of unacknowledged inconsistencies is both

more extensive and concerns more significant questions (something

caused in part by a tendency towards hyperbole):

’Christ became the key to understanding God’s purpose for humankind,
and indeed God himself ... Encountering this Christ turned his whole
system of values upside down ... ’ (p. 181 ); but ’God is the fundamental
presupposition of Paul’s theology, the starting point of his theologizing,
the primary subtext of all his writing’ (p. 28).

’Paul’s conversion must be seen as the fulcrum point or hinge on which

his whole theology turned round ... It was no doubt the total reversal of
some very basic theological axioms’ (p. 179); but ’the sharpness of the

sense of apocalyptic disjunction has to be meshed into the very real

continuities which nevertheless were maintained’ (p. 180).

’[I]f the law was given primarily to regulate life within the people of
God, then indeed its role is properly speaking secondary... Its role
comes in as a secondary phase [after faith] ... ’ but ’the implication of

Lev. 18.5 rightly understood is that their roles [the law and faith] should
properly be regarded as complementary’ (p. 153). Moreover, ’The
law ... was, as it were, a calculated risk on God’s part. If it leads humans
to death then it brings about the believer’s deliverance from the power of
sin and the weakness of the flesh. But it also hastens the total destruction
(death) of those who live their lives solely in terms of the flesh’ (p. 159).
Later we read, ’trust in God ... describes the function of the law as a
whole’ (p. 641) along with ’[n]or does such a redefinition ... exclude or
diminish the fundamental function of the law as the measure of God’s
judgment’ (p. 648); this a law just described as ’lived out in accord with
the principles of faith alld luae uJ~neighborrr’ (emphasis added).

The fullness of God embodied in Christ is nevertheless questionably

incarnate in him (p. 277, emphasis added).

On p. 264 we worship Jesus as Lord (the important ’double relationship’

of the early Christians), whereas previously on pp. 259-60 ’we hesitate
before asserting that Paul &dquo;worshiped&dquo; Christ ... ’ (Dunn suggests ’cultic
veneration’ at this point).

The above very incomplete sample notes, amongst others, statements

concerning Christology, the law, and Paul’s apostolic commission; cru-
cial issues in Paul’s theology. Clearly Dunn is comfortable with a high

2. See also further explicit methodological statements about this on pp. 395-
96, 410, 440, 455 and 492-93. Overt and unacknowledged examples could also be
multiplied.
94

degree of inconsistency, and yet he also feels justified in drawing more

assertive conclusions at times (see, e.g., the last quote in the first
sample, where discerning a common theme is not the same thing as
integration into a single portrayal; a distinction worthy of Clinton).
What are we to make of this degree of descriptive flexibility?
That Paul, an ancient thinker with a very small extant corpus, would
be unclear-especially to us-on many points is entirely acceptable.
That he would be inconsistent at times also seems acceptable-after all,
who isn’t? But that he would be unclear and inconsistent on many
major issues seems to me to be problematic. At this point either we
endorse Sanders’s and Rdisdnen’s judgment that Paul is fundamentally
inconsistent (and here we also really abandon fundamentally coherent
accounts of his thought), or we demonstrate the consistent resolution of
the major issues that they isolate. The reproduction of inconsistency but
corresponding denial of its force does not seem to me to be a viable
alternative option-such denials carry little actual weight. But there are
still more serious
methodological problems here.
If permit inconsistency-and especially if this is reasonably
we

regular-then we lose our own ability to make cogent and plausible

judgments. This is a logical conundrum not often squarely faced by
New Testament scholars who make such claims. However, once con-
ceded, one’s own critical decisions against other interpretations can
now be denied in the name of the very inconsistency that is espoused
elsewhere-if we wish to argue that Paul says X instead of Y, that
conclusion can be undermined by the contention that we have already
conceded elsewhere that Paul says both A and B, so why not also here?
And at this point, we have no effective counter-arguments. All of these
will depend at some point on logical consistency, and we have already
traded that contention away. Paul is not always consistent, we have just
admitted. So how will we now be able to prove that he consistently says
X? Hence to deny Paul’s consistency in any major sense, it seems to
me, is to make a fatal methodological concession.
In more specific terms, Dunn does ultimately urge certain positions
as central to Paul, notably, sacrifice, faith and monotheism. But in the

face of the christological reading of nicyrt;, for example,~ although

explicitly claiming a lack of toleration for the alternative here, one
wonders if he is really in a position to do so-would this not be falsely
’integrating [the evidence] in a single portrayal’ and so on (cp. p. 315).
3. An issue discussed by §14.8, pp. 379-85.
 95

Why cannot both be correct? Alternatively, how can evidence

readings
from Romans 4 be tabled in support of the same reading in chs. I and
3? Perhaps Paul is just being inconsistent here (or, alternatively, he is
layering metaphors and perspectives), as he is so often with respect to
other matters. In short, whenever Dunn wishes to make his own
particular claims in relation to Paul he runs the risk of being hoist by
his own methodological petard.’
But the frequency of Dunn’s recourse to inconsistency may betray
another methodological conundrum; one central to the cogency of his
entire project. That project is essentially a description of Paul’s thought
structured by Romans, and especially by an essentially traditional read-
ing of chs. 1--4. Paul’s statements on a given theme are therefore
removed from his various letters and rearranged in accordance with this
template. These collations are then basically assumed to be reflections
of his mind on a given question (in fact this is a standard procedure in
many theologies of Paul, although Romans I-4 is not always the basic
template). An important additional justification for this procedure is
that there is simply not enough time for the discussion of epistolary cir-
cumstances.
But it is well known that Paul’s is not especially homoge-
thought
neous. Indeed, if plucked from his letters and merely listed seriatim,

many of Paul’s suggestions look rampantly contradictory. And I sus-

pect that Dunn’s constant recourse to inconsistency is not so much an
oddly flexible view of epistemology as a sustained response to this
difficulty. He is claiming that Paul is superficially rather kaleidoscopic
but is ferminrnentallv coherent. And this seems a reasonable approach at
first glance (although certain doubts have already been mentioned).
Pauline scholarship in North America has chosen a very different
5
methodological response to this problem, however.’

4. On pp. 177-78 there is also an interesting attempt to reconcile in a non-

contradictory fashion Paul’s statements concerning the gospel’s origin in1 Cor.
15.1-7 and Gal. 1.11-12-why bother?, one wonders.
5. Dunn is well aware of this alternative approach which has been thrashed
out, not always convincingly, in the Pauline Theology Group at the Annual Meet-
ing of SBL—he himself has often been an important part of those discussions.
Consequently he notes some of the key points and works in his introductory
methodological discussion (§1, pp. 13-23; the Pauline Theology series is especially
important), but this amounts essentially to lip-service. The principles are not
embodied seriously in his account that follows. For references see n. 35 (p. 11) and
96

That approach, encapsulated in the terminology of contingency and

coherence that is associated especially with J-.C. Beker, suggests that a
fundamental quality of Paul’s texts is their flexible accommodation to
diverse pastoral and argumentative circumstances-he is a heavily
targeted writer, with his discussions interwoven to a considerable
degree with localized issues. And it is this diverse deployment, many
scholars suspect, that in large measure generates their characteristic
diversity of ideas and discussion. In this, we might say that Paul is
more like a politician than a philosopher (indeed, which of these two

roles are missionaries and pastors generally closer to?!). We would sift
the public speeches and debates of the former very carefully before
reaching conclusions as to what they really thought-we would not
simply choose an important party speech and then slot all the other
extant material into that framework, claiming after this to have

reproduced that politician’s basic conceptual framework. Neither would

we read every extant word as intended in an almost academic fashion to

be taken with equal and permanent seriousness. Hence the approach of

many North American scholars to the layered metaphors that Dunn
deals with in collated form would be rather different. They would tend
to explore circumstantial resolutions before attempting systematic ones,
and as a result of this would probably deny that many metaphors and
arguments are actually representative of Paul’s own basic position-a
circumstantial ’filter’ would first be carefully applied to each of his own
letters. And so a leaner Pauline gospel would result with, almost cer-
tainly, rather less data ultimately to collate, and also to explain
coherently !
Dunn does not of have time to do this. The question we must
course

ask, however, is whether this is sufficient excuse for his project never-

theless. Many North American scholars would probably counter that a

largely non-contingent approach to the description of Paul’s theology is
simply not valid at all, time pressures notwithstanding. It leaves a basic
methodological question begging throughout, namely, whether the
material being deployed and discussed actually reflects Paul’s own
mind on a given subject rather than a craftily contrived circumstantial
point not intended to be taken too seriously. Note, the North American
analysts are not thereby in flight from theological description itself. Far
from it. They are, however, in flight from premature theological

pp. 20-21 (and notes); also more generally n. 1 on pp. 1-2. He discusses Beker
specifically on p. 23.
 97

description (a very different thing); something Dunn’s project has few

contingent protections against.
By way of example we can note that Romans itself should undergo a
careful circumstantial consideration before being utilized theologically.
The obvious tensions between the concerns and arguments of its three
main theological blocks, along with the network of difficulties existing
across the parakletic section and through the epistolary frame, should
be evaluated and, hopefully, comprehended within a single explanation
of its provenance. At the end of this process Romans would still
doubtless take its place as Paul’s most important discussion-Dunn is
entirely correct to assert this-but the specific contours of that position
can in no way be assumed, namely, the centrality of chs. 1-4. In fact

the debate concerning the provenance of Romans is not closed, and that
in itself indicates the methodological peril that Dunn’s project is in.
What if a consensus is reached that chs. 1-4 are more contingently than
coherently functional?! (And this is not necessarily to assert the
irrelevance of either system or Romans in Paul’s thought. It may
merely be to claim the overriding importance of either chs. 5-8 or 9-
12 ; suggestions also hardly without pedigree). Indeed, what if ’works
of law’ turn out to be mere polemical sloganizing?! The contingent
decisions about Romans underlying Dunn’s project are therefore
absolutely crucial, but they are also vulnerable to erosion in just those
terms (and the same really applies to all his other textual decisions).
In sum, those scholars committed to a contingent approach to Paul’s
texts will have considerable difficulties with the methodological

assumptions underlying Dunn’s extensive description. They will ask,

’is a largely non-contingent, systematic description of Paul’s thought
even possible, and that on the basis of a largely traditional approach to

Romans 1-4’?’ At numerous specific points in his analysis they will also
ask if the texts being reconciled reflect Paul’s mind on the subject at
issue, or whether the struggle is really partly structurally contrived and
hence artificial. It should be emphasized at this point that this is not a
dispute between historians and theologians. It is the rather different
claim that Pauline theology that is not thoroughly grounded historically
is also likely to be invalid theologically insofar as it purports to
describe the mind of Paul. Hence, these are two different ways of con-
ceiving of theological description in relation to Paul. And in raising
these questions I am really attempting to point out that Dunn’s descrip-
tion is in part a fundamental challenge to the methodological paradigm
98

currently endorsed, inter- alii, by many leading North American inter-

preters of Paul-it is a cr-i de guerr-e. And these two parties cannot both
be right. Hence major issues for the prosecution of our sub-discipline
are at stake.

2. Dunn’s View of the Pauline Gospel

Despite a frequent recourse to inconsistency, Dunn would doubtless not
be ashamed to confess his fundamental construal of the Pauline gospel,
suitably qualified, in terms of justification by faith. This is an affirma-
tion for him of one of the most important aspects of the Protestant
Reformation&dquo; but it is also, of course, held to be a fair reading of Paul
in his own day.’ Apart from the bald declaration of this principle, this is
also indicated by the insertion of ’faith’ into several discussions where
the Pauline texts themselves do not call for this terminology,~ and also

6. Something suggested by Dunn’s placement of a statement by Patrick

Collinson at the beginning of his own analysis of justification by faith in Paul (cp.
Rom. 1.17): ’ "What was the gospel of Christ, according to Luther and all subse-
quent Protestants?" asks Patrick Collinson. He answers: That man enjoys that
acceptance with God called "justification", the beginning and end of salvation ...
only through the loving mercy of God... The key to this transaction was faith ...
and in itself not a human achievement but the pure gift of God...’ (pp. 335—36—
similarly revealing comments are evident in Dunn’s important short study on the
interpretation of π&iacgr;στι&sfgr; in Paul which was first presented to the Pauline Theology
Group in 1991, at Kansas City, and is now most accessible in Pauline Theology 4
(ed. D.M. Hay and E.E. Johnson; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), pp. 61-81. Suffice
it to note here that this is a stunning theological and sociological reduction of the
Reformation (and indeed of Luther) as well as being an oddly contradictory and
unprogrammatic statement. How can salvation be a transaction if its key condition
is a sheer divine gift? Alternatively, how can that condition really be a divine gift if
salvation is a transaction? Furthermore, where is faith really treated in functional
terms as a ’pure gift of God’ in Dunn’s analysis of Paul?
7. So Paul was the first Protestant, although Dunn really pushes that honour
even earlier than Paul to the shadowy Stephen circle (see his rather unfortunately

neglected The Partings of the Ways between Judaism and Christianity [London:
SCM Press; Philadelphia: Trinity Press International, 1991]); a view, however, that
I myself would find difficult to justify in detail. Moreover, irrespective of actual
historical justification, if the point is true, then any analysis by such advocates of
Paul’s own theological journey within the early church is now strangely redundant;
the crucial journey—now largely lost to view—would be Stephen’s.
8. Note, e.g., Dunn’s use of the phrase ’the faith experience’ on p. 409. More
important is his analysis of the crucial role of faith in the context of his discussion
 99

by his ubiquitous description of Christians as ’believers’. Paul’s most

favoured term for Christians is ’brothers’, followed by ’saints’ or ’holy
ones’. He uses the former five to six times as often, and the latter
almost twice as often, as the descriptor ’believers’, but those ratios
would be more than reversed in Dunn’s account.‘’ Clearly then this
decision reflects Dunn’s reading of what is most important in Paul, a
reading overtly grounded in chs. 1-4 of Romans, where ntctr- termi-
nology figures prominently, and buttressed by a certain reading of
Galatians (especially 2.15-3.26 and 5.5-6). But Dunn’s account of
justification by faith is also highly nuanced. We must consider first his
response to the challenge of E.P. Sanders.
Dunn has responded in a distinctive fashion to E.P. Sanders’s
epochal Paul and Palestinian ludaism.lo As is well known, Sanders
attacked the description of late second temple Judaism by New Testa-
ment scholars in terms of legalism, a caricature he laid largely at the
feet of German Lutheran scholarship and its dependants. In a sense, that
caricature is ’the sin of Lutheranism’ (although it is only fair to note
that many Lutherans have long criticized it, and parts of Luther’s own
corpus can be deployed decidedly against it). Dunn has summarized in
this volume his distinctive response to Sanders’s challenge in terms of a
re-reading of the phrase and characterization ’works of law’. In place of
an assertion of legalism, Dunn contends that these refer to distinctive

Jewish boundary markers in the sense of practices that had important

sociological functions and were mobilized distinctively during the
Maccabaean crisis (and then particularly by the zealous; note Gal. 1.13-
14). Paul is therefore criticizing covenantal prejudice rather than
meritocratic hypocrisy in his discussions that target this motif. Dunn
claims that this re-reading of ’works of law’ avoids Lutheranism and its

of baptism on pp. 456-57 and 458-59. (Where is π&iacgr;στι&sfgr; in ch. 6 of Romans?; from
5.1 it drops from view until 9.30! There is one instance of the verb—in solitary
splendour—in 6.8, and in a telling position.) In the context of an analysis driven
largely by Romans 5-8, we again encounter a significant role for faith terminology;
see pp. 475 and 498.
9. The raw figures are altered by canonical commitments and a few text-
critical decisions, but not the basic ratios. In a ten-letter canon the data is
127:42:23.
10. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977. For Dunn’s view see esp. the three short
studies listed in n. 1 to §14.4-5, p. 335. The view is reprised in Dunn’s various
monographs on Romans and Galatians (although, arguably, with some develop-
ment ; details on pp. xx, xxv and xxvi).
100

besetting misconstrual of Jews. In essence, Lutheranism is to be identi-

fied almost entirely with the misconstrual of late second temple
Judaism in terms of soteriological legalism; a description Dunn, in the
wake of Sanders, claims to have corrected with his more sociological
and covenantal approach.
Frankly, I find Dunn at his most confusing at these points (conse-
quently I am also confused by his accounts of Judaism and Israel in
Paul’s thought). I do not understand either how his reformulations solve
our difficulties, or how they integrate sensibly with the traditional

elements in Paul that he has chosen to retain-although I am aware that

this may be my own interpretative inadequacy. First, what is the exact
problem for Paul with Judaism, according to Dunn? Is it the /;~By~B~<9/?
of certain ethnic practices responding to God’s covenantal initiative,
some of which, like circumcision and the food laws, were distinctively
mobilized by historical circumstance? Or is it the misconstrual of those
practises in a historically selfish fashion that is at fault? (As far as I can
tell, at different times he claims both or either of these things-he also
speaks repeatedly of ’restrictiveness’, but again, in what sense?!&dquo;)
Whatever Dunn’s response here, however, it seems to me in any case
that neither possibility can lead logically to all affirmation of jcistifica-
tion byfaith alone.
In a little more detail, to accuse Judaism of being ethnic per se would
seem to be like accusing humans of talking or breathing. Ethnicity is a

fundamental feature of humanness-ther-e is no such thing as non-

ethnic humanity. Moreover, the supposed non-ethnic response to this
sorry state supplied by faith is nevertheless clearly meant ultimately to
create another distinctive human entity, namely, the church (which
should also be very ’restrictive’ in certain ways, for example, in moral
terms). So it seems to me that this possible criticism (a repristination of
F.C. Baur perhaps, but without the underlying Hegelian metaphysic
that made his position cogent) leads nowhere. It seems fundamentally
pointless to accuse Jews of being ethnic.
It may of course be granted that historical circumstances can
mobilize certain ethnic practices, making them more or less distinctive,
as against leaving them tacit; a feature usually of minority culture.
Dunn is entirely correct to point to the mobilization of certain features

11. ’Restrictiveness’ is mentioned on pp. 355, 372, 373 and 374. Note also
Dunn’s accusations of ’set-apartness’ (?), ’separation’, ’privilege’ and ’distinctive-
ness’on pp. 355, 356 and 357 (etc.).
 101

of Jewish ethnicity during the Maccabaean period. But how does the
addition of the dimension of di.stinctive ethnic mobilization assist our
analysis of Paul’s critique of Judaism? That is, how is this in particular
wrong? (according to Paul), and/or how does it lead to,faith? (Indeed,
if the Maccabaean crisis had never unfolded then Paul, according to
Dunn, should have remained happy with Judaism-although I doubt he
would concede this corollary.)
If the Jews are being accused of prejudicial ethnic activity, however
(prompted by a particular distinctive mobilization)-and this is a much
more comprehensible criticism at first glance-then the appropriate

response to that would be of course to reverse that prejudice and to

offer membership in their society open-handedly to all; in effect, to
make circumcision (and the corresponding female rites) freely avail-
able. Distinctive practices must also be available. By way of analogy,
the response to restricted suffrage in the past was simply open and gen-
eral suffrage and not some other political system altogether. So this
reconstrual of Paul’s criticism makes more sense but at the expense of
any development into Pauline Christianity in terms of sola fides-the
Jews can deal with Paul’s critique on these terms simply by being more
welcoming towards those outsiders who want to join them.
In essence then Dunn seems to have eliminated the tight logic in the
traditional reading of the Pauline gospel that led to justification by faith
alone; a logic reliant on the failure of justification by works in terms of
a meritocratic soteriological accumulation. He has also nevertheless

retained in Paul a dimension dangerously critical of Judaism (it is

distinctively ethnic and/or prejudiced). Hence I suspect that in under-
taking this reinterpretation we have simply confused matters, failing to
move out of a critical stance towards Judaism but now also failing to

give a coherent account of Paul’s argument that somehow leads to

faith. Ironically, we seem to have abandoned the Lutheran position’s
cogent argumentation vis-~-vis ’works of law’, one of its traditional
strengths, but not its aggression, which is its glaring contemporary
weakness. 12 There is an additional set of problems here, however; prob-
lems rooted in Dunn’s retention of a traditional conditional structure for
Christian salvation in spite of the foregoing modifications.
Passing on from the fact that we have modified the traditional
12. Arguably at many points we have not abandoned its logic either, insofar as
the law retains its traditional role of exposing and convicting of sin, and thereby
leading to death; see esp. 159-61.
102

rationale for justification by faith, Dunn nevertheless strongly affirms

the centrality of that motif for Paul’s soteriology (he relies heavily on
the supposed exegetical demonstration of this in relation to Abraham in
Rom. 4).&dquo; So at the centre of Paul’s gospel is a decision by an
individual, a decision that appropriates the gospel, and Dunn’s account
stands here in a long tradition of British Arminianism, a tradition medi-
ated so significantly by the Wesleys.14 But that soteriological commit-
ment has a series of inevitable structural concomitants that are clearly
S
stamped on Dunn’s broader description.’~
First should note that an individual must be given reasons, and
we

preferably moral ones, for making this decision of faith, and those
reasons must be supplied in the pre-Christian state and so grounded in
non-Christian considerations (because clearly they are not Christians
and so cannot use Christian rationales before they make the decision to
become a Christian). Consequently this principle generates a model
strongly committed to the introduction to the individual of a consider-
able amount of theological information prior to their Christian conver-
sion (hence also much of the furore over Paul’s ’conversion’; a debate
that Dunn wisely does not fully endorse: see § 14.3, pp. 346-54.) This
theological approach has traditionally found its main exegetical warrant

13. A foundation most overt perhaps in part of the discussion of&sect;14.7, pp. 376-
79, but the view is also apparent in comments made on pp. 153 and 367. Also
revealing is the brief discussion on pp. 81-83 of his The Theology of Paul’s Letter
to the Galatians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993). A strong depen-
dence on this rationale for sola fides lends a rather arbitrary quality to the Christian
gospel, however. And if it is grounded in Abraham, it also entails an extraordinary
judgment on historical Judaism, namely, that from its inception it has almost
completely misconstrued the will of God.
14. This tradition also tends to lay claim to the Protestant heritage as a whole. It
is important to note, however, that large parts of the Reformation heritage have
consistently and firmly repudiated such an approach deeming it inauthentically
Christian. Historically, the opponents of Arminianism were Calvinists, while that
infamous forerunner to Arminius, Pelagius, was opposed by the doyen of the
Reformers, namely, Augustine. Luther also held that one of his two most important
works was The Bondage of the Will (an assault on Erasmus for his Pelagianism).
15. See esp. pp. 455-56 for Dunn’s brief reprise of the classic Western approach
to salvation in terms of ordered phases and conditions (often dubbed the ordo
salutis). One cannot do better, however, than the masterful account-and compre-
hensive critique&mdash;by J.B. Torrance in his ’Introduction’ to John McLeod Campbell,
The Nature of the Atonement (Edinburgh: Handsel; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
new edn, 1996 [1856]), pp. 1-16.
 103

in Rom. 1.18-3.20, a discussion it has read as an a priori argument

concerning salvation (while the countervailing assertions of I Cor.
1.18-31, or even Gal. 1.15-16 in context, have been conspicuously
avoided).
It is consequently no coincidence that Dunn’s account, rooted in
traditional Arminian conditionalism-which tends to treat salvation as
a contract, albeit a very generous one-and also in a relatively tradi-

tional approach to Romans 1-4, begins with an account of Paul’s

’presuppositions’, an extensive description of the theological knowl-
edge available to Paul prior to his Christian commission and hence as a
Jew, but also largely available to non-Christians (see §§2-6, pp. 27-
161). This theological vestibule is characterized especially by
theological monotheism, but also by other revelations assisted by law
and concerning sin and judgment (Jews have obvious advantages here
but, technically, not crucial ones). And despite the odd disclaimer that
Paul’s commission and the role of Christ reverse, invert or redefine
these, far more obvious is the sustained commitment of Dunn’s account
to them throughout (leading to various conceptual struggles that we
will note shortly). Significantly, because these are innate universal the-
ological conclusions to which the later Christian gospel will correspond
soteriologically-so ’the problem is followed by the solution’-they
largely control that structure. That is, the principles established here are
not redefinable, or the entire structure collapses, because the cogency of
the subsequent phases depends on conclusions already established. This
model is driven from the front, specifically by the epistemological
commitments of the first phase, and that frontal structure is in place
according to Dunn before Paul becomes a Christian ’&dquo; (an odd conclu-
sion to draw ultimately from Rom. 1-2, in its historical context, one
might think).
This structural principle will apply obviously in the first instance to
the role of Christ. Given the traditional vestibule, the individual who
has decided to become a Christian and thereby exercised the possibility
of faith has done so primarily in order to avoid judgment for wrong-
doing, a scenario established by God’s omnipotence, justice and law.
Christ’s traditional role has therefore been to provide an escape route
for such decision-makers that nevertheless satisfies these previously
established and immutable theological correlates. His death is conse-
quently construed as a vicarious punishment, whose benefits are
16. Which takes place effectively from ch. 4, &sect;7 (!), and p. 163 onwards.
104

accessed by faith, and God’s justice is thereby preserved. This is

Christ’s primary soteriological role according to the model, a role
generally fulfilled exegetically by the notion of sacrifice. Hence it is
again no coincidence to see Dunn affirming among the plethora of
atoning and other christological metaphors the ’centrality’ of sacrifice
(and this even though he has layered the traditional view of the vesti-
bule with a reconstrual of ’works of law’). His theological presup-
positions and not his method have probably dictated this emphasis
(especially since the number of overt sacrificial texts in Paul, most
probably two although Dunn claims three to four, is considerably out-
numbered by those supporting other motifs that Dunn nevertheless
marginalizes, for example, those possibly speaking of pre-existence,
where ten texts are discussed).&dquo; In sum, the nature of Christology is
dictated by the commitments made in the pre-Christian phase. But at
this point a further interesting christological development is possible.
Traditionally scholars have nevertheless usually gone on to an
orthodox trinitarian position, affirming the full divinity of Christ at
some point; a claim that critical New Testament scholarship, however,

with its Socinian roots, has generally been sceptical of. In fact there is
little in the traditional conditional and contractual model that necessi-
tates Christ’s divinity (Anselm supplied a dubious argument from

quantity, namely, that a sacrifice of infinite worth was necessary in

order to atone for universal sin; something only possible if God himself
died). Really Christ merely needs to die sinless like the unblemished
Old Testament sacrifices, or some such, for the model to function
adequately. It is consequently rather fascinating to see Dunn again reca-
pitulating this structural propensity in his reading of Paul. He questions
the notion of Christ’s incarnation or entry into humanity’s sinful
condition in Paul’s thought, which is an important element in trinitarian
soteriology but, as we have just seen, plays no essential role within a
17. The safest bets are Rom. 3.25 and 8.3. Some sort of sacrificial allusion here
is clear. Dunn also insists that 2 Cor. 5.21 speaks reasonably directly of sacrifice
via Isa. 53 (i.e. in addition to Rom. 3.25 and 8.3). I myself do not see either of these
connotations especially strongly in that Pauline statement. Any heavy dependence
on 1 Cor. 5.7 also seems unwise, as does the claim that where Paul
speaks of
’blood’ he connotes sacrifice&mdash;Rom. 5.9-10 is a standing retort to that assumption
(more could be mentioned). Pre-existence is discussed in&sect;11(pp. 266-93). There
he engages in a distinctive reading of no less than ten texts! (in order,1 Cor. 8.6;
Col. 1.15-20; Gal. 4.4; Rom. 8.3; 1 Cor. 10.4; Rom. 10.6-8; Phil. 2.6-11;1Cor.
15.47-49; 2 Cor. 4.4-6; 2 Cor. 8.9).
 105

legal and contractual model of the atonement. He also grapples with

Christ’s resurrected role or status vis-A-vis God. Here too his model
entails that God’s monotheism, already established, should remain
primary while any similar role for Christ is structurally unnecessary-
his function can certainly be exalted but it need not be fully divine (a
weak Adoptionism is quite adequate!). And this again is what we find.
Christ is exalted but his precise relationship to God (i.e. the father) is
’unclear’ .1 Hence at this point, Dunn’s contractualism forges an inter-
esting alliance with traditional academic Socinianism; an alliance
always structurally possible but not usually overtly effected.
Another important structural concomitant of the model is its ethical
incapacity-Schweizer’s famous cul-de-sac1lJ-and here we must anal-
yse Dunn’s assertions carefully. In an extensive and often very
informative discussion of Paul’s ethics (§§23-24, pp. 625-712) the
claim is frequently made that, in essence, faith is ethically vigorous (it
is discussed as one of three important motivating principles primarily in
§23.3, pp. 634-42, although some sleight of hand seems evident here20),
a claim assisted by Paul’s evident commitment to ethics, which is true
but begs the key question. Crucially, I detect no decisive conceptual

18. The life and teachings of Jesus are also essentially secondary. This does not
mean that we have to overlook them when we run across them, but the stakes in
that debate are not especially high; see &sect;8, pp. 182-206 and also &sect;23.5, pp. 650-58
(the former discussion seemed to me rather to beg the question).
19. Schweitzer actually wrote,’[I]n the subsidiary doctrine of righteousness by
faith he [Paul] has shut off the road to ethics... [So] those who subsequently made
his doctrine of justification by faith the centre of Christian belief, have had the
tragic experience of finding that they were dealing with a conception of redemption,
from which no ethic could logically be derived’ (The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle
[trans. W. Montgomery; New York: Seabury, 1968 (1931)], p. 225).
20. Dunn should, strictly speaking, not include in his analysis of ’the indicative’
anything beyond ’the one principle’ that he has so repeatedly maintained is alone
necessary, namely, faith. However, love and hope now also appear. Of course, it is
a relatively simple matter to derive a comprehensive ethical programme in impera-

tive terms from ’love’ assisted by ’hope’. But although these claims are intuitively
plausible because of that well-known triad’s presence in Paul (notably in 1 Cor.
13), they are strangely inconsistent with the heart of Dunn’s analysis of Paul’s
gospel. Indeed, one could ask how the believer suddenly possesses both love and
hope when they began only with faith (so the key ethical question has actually been
shifted into Dunn’s analysis of the indicative state). Are these human achievements
too, like faith, and hence undertaken prior to salvation in order to appropriate it?
One suspects not.
106

articulation in this discussion of hon~ the position of .sola fides actually

leads to vigorous ethical action. Assertions notwithstanding, then, we
are I suspect still very much in Schweizer’s cul-de-sac, and with Paul’s s

extensive ethical discussions now severely problematized. Hence, once

again, Dunn’s account follows the dictates of his underlying structural
commitments, but this time perhaps disguising them rather than simply
articulating them.
A final observation: the conditionality of the model also necessitates
a modified reading of grace in Paul. Ordinarily this motif ought to be

read in completely unconditional terms-salvation ’by grace’ would be

salvation as a free undeserved gift. But contractualists must redefine
unconditionality into generosity or its equivalent because their model is
activated by an individual’s decision and not just by God’s unmerited
favour.2’ And, once Dunn does not disappoint these expecta-
again,
tions. His section on grace is powerful and accurate (§ 13.2, pp. 319-23):
’behind the whole salvation process always lay the initiative of God’
(p. 319); ’more than any other, these two words, &dquo;grace&dquo; and &dquo;love,&dquo;
together sum and most clearly characterise his whole theology’ (p. 320);
God’s act is ’unilateral’ (p. 322); and salvation is ’God’s wholly gener-
ous and undeserved action from beginning to end’ (p. 323). But these

affirmations of unconditionality are never actually systematically fol-

lowed (i.e. they constitute an instance of inconsistency). -,2 Grace is
clearly conditioned by faith and Dunn’s qualifications follow almost
immediately: ’Paul had no concept of the ... unintentional Christian’ (
p. 323); ’People had to receive what God offered through him [Paul and
his gospel] if the process of salvation was to begin’ (p. 324); ’with-
out conscious commitment it could not proceed’ (p. 326-a glaringly
Cartesian assertion ).23 Dunn states decisively on p. 378, ’it had to be

21. Alternatively, grace may remain overtly defined in unconditional terms, but
elsewhere conditions are still specified while the interconnection between these two
concepts is never elucidated; technically, a synergist position. Unfortunately, if a
condition is added to an unconditional model, the resulting construct is generally
viewed as a conditional model by most New Testament scholars (and not even as ’a
conditioned unconditionality’ or some such, which would be more accurate).
Intriguingly, and as we have already noted, Collinson’s statement echoes Dunn’s
synergism exactly (see p. 336).
22. Ironically, the theological chasm between unconditional and conditional
soteriologies is even greater than that New Testament scholars usually fret over,
namely, between soft and harsh conditional systems.
23. On p. 324 we even read, ’[a] particularly striking feature of Paul’s letters is
 107

from faith, so that the most fundamental principle of all God’s dealings
with humans could be clearly seen-by grace through faith’. 24 It need
hardly be stated here that these last two motifs are not one principle,
while their interrelationship-at least to me-is more problematic than
clear.
To summarize this localized set of observations, I would suggest that
Dunn’s account of Paul bears all the hallmarks of a traditional contrac-
tual understanding of Christian soteriology. Despite protestations,
redefinitions and, at times, a conceptual layering, his account is actually
an object lesson in the structural concomitants of that model, namely,

extensive a pr-ior-i theological commitments (natural theology, mono-

theism, divine omnipotence and the revelation of law); a passive and
basically penal substitionary role for Christ; the fulfillment of a nec-
essary criterion of appropriation by the Christian in order to receive
salvation; and ethical incapacity (i.e. the difficulty of affirming any
moral action beyond faith). Of course we have not elaborated much on
the importance of the central criterion for salvation, namely, faith,’-5

the frequency with which he refers his audiences back to their beginnings, to the
decisive hearing, the act of commitment, the experience of grace’, as if these last
two notions were necessarily or comfortably co-terminous! The ensuing catena of
texts, which supposedly prove that Paul refers often to the beginning of Christianity
in faith, also only actually mention faith and/or belief in four out of seventeen
instances! (pp. 325-26).
24. On the next page he states, ’[h]uman dependence on divine grace had to be
unqualified or else it was not Abraham’s faith...God would not justify, could not
sustain in relationship with him, those who did not rely wholly on him’ (p. 379). I
do not understand how sustaining a relationship with God through whole-hearted
faith&mdash;in fact, no mean achievement&mdash;is also an unqualified dependence. This
looks decidedly qualified to me. See also the final statement in&sect;14.8 on p. 385.
25. Alternatives to a contractual reading of Paul generate important leverage at
this point from a christological reading of many of his uses of &pi;i&sigma;&tau;i&sfgr;. Dunn is an
international participant in this debate&mdash;and on one side! His account here is a
slight development of his other defences of the traditional anthropocentric view.
Unfortunately, his citation of the secondary literature containing this debate is a
little truncated, and his rehearsal of the opposing position fails (again!) to state their
main contention. Christological advocates suggest that ’the faith of Christ’ is an
intertextually mediated reference to Christ’s death, literally, to his cross. It is a
martyrological motif, and consequently one quite at home in the conceptual world
of late second temple Judaism. If Dunn, along with many other anthropocentric
advocates, acknowledged this point, then much of their counter-argument would be
withdrawn (or, at least, rendered ineffective). Indeed, quite an amount from Dunn’s
108

along with its possibly awkward displacement of a similar role for law
or nomism as seen in Judaism, merely its somewhat strained redefini-

tion of grace. We have also not explored how tendentious it is to claim

that this soteriology’ was the heart of the extraordinarily complex his-
torical process of the Reformation .2&dquo; But space necessitates such over-
sights. 21
We must now ask a further question, namely, how well Dunn’s
underlying commitment to contractual soteriology integrates with the
rest of his description of Paul. He would no doubt claim that some
of the foregoing problems are resolved by other conceptual structures
within Paul. Indeed, Dunn has-rather fair-mindedly-given some
space to key texts and positions from alternative models. In § 15, for
example, we find an excellent account of participatory soteriology
along with a fully justified protest at its marginalization within much
recent scholarship on Paul (pp. 390-412). What is one to make of such

juxtaposed descriptions and claims, especially when it is recalled that to

resolve the tensions between this model and justification by faith is also
to resolve the tensions between the discussions in chs. 1-4 and 5-8 in
Romans?
Once again, I see no satisfying conceptual resolution of the tensions
between these two positions. The assertions are merely made in
sequence, as it were. That is, once again I do not understand how these
radically different systems fit together. I am merely told that they do.
Neither does an excellent treatment of inaugurated eschatology (§ 18,
pp. 461-98) answer to a clash between these fundamental soteriological
principles, but merely to the question of their present versus future
reality. The old chestnut of the justification-sanctification distinction,
both disavowed and deployed by Dunn, is also sadly inadequate-and
indeed is somewhat at cross-purposes with the sustained emphasis on

account of Paul’s thought here could then be cited in the christological case’s sup-
port. Better bibliographies concerning the debate are supplied by Dunn’s original
study (see n. 6 above) and also by R.B. Hays’s response; details in n. 1 to &sect;14.8,
p. 335.
26. J.B. Torrance, in the introduction to Campbell, The Nature of Atonement,
states alternatively that ’the great emphasis of the Reformation [is] that nothing is
prior to grace’ (p. 6), a rather different summary of the heart of the matter from
Dunn and Collinson.
27. We have already noted both Dunn’s modification of ’works of law’ and his
frequent retention of a traditional role for the law in terms of conviction and judg-
ment (see esp. pp. 159-61).
 109

eschatology (these concerns interweave to a degree through § 18, pp.

461-98; see also §23, pp. 626-31-if we are what we are because our
condition is only inaugurated, then the basic structure of our present
versus our future condition is necessarily the same!, hence any appeal
to inaugurated eschatology in support of different systems seems mis-
conceived). Such assertions of shifts in models once the stage of
sanctification has been reached seem lame, and also suspiciously like
an attempt to deal with contractualism’s obvious ethical difficulties

through the back door. Hence, as a confessed enthusiast of a partici-

patory account of Paul’s gospel, I find myself impressed by Dunn’s pre-
sentation here of the fundamental soteriological power of this approach,
but deeply unsatisfied by his failure to note its self-sufficiency along
with its fundamental incompatibility with his favoured view of the
Pauline gospel, not to mention its total ethical adequacy; a failure
revealed tellingly in the contradictory claims made about the role of the
Spirit (as well as by the account of the Spirit’s role in ethics; see §23.4,
pp. 642-49), a consideration I will close with.
The Spirit corresponds soteriologically in participatory and/or apoca-
lyptic models to the principle of faith in contractual readings, that is, to
the instrumental dimension. Consequently, contractual accounts must
also marginalize a sovereign role for the Spirit-much as grace too has
to be redefined-perhaps by asserting his2’ arrival only after the all-

important decision of faith has been made.2’ But any faithful account of
the Spirit in Paul cannot but fail to be impressed by his sovereign
nature and central soteriological function. Dunn’s first detailed aca-
demic studies were in part affirmations of this, and so it is not surpris-
ing to find similar affirmations here (§ 16, pp. 413-41 ). Every affirma-
tion of the Spirit’s importance in Paul, however, is simultaneously an
admission that the process of salvation can be entirely initiated by God
and actually requires no prior reflection or actual appropriation by the
individual-we are, after all, talking about the mind and creative power
of God! It is, in short, to affirm the truth of the unconditional dimension
in Paul’s gospel.;&dquo; Consequently, I find myself affirmed in my own

28. My admittedly possibly superficial grasp of UK convention is that general

usage concerning pronouns for the Holy Spirit is still masculine. My own usage
intends a sense that is fully personal but not gendered.
29. See, e.g., Dunn’s overt statements on p. 456.
30. Note that ’unconditionality’ is primarily a theological and epistemological
statement. Its actual mode is undetermined a priori. Furthermore, I would expect
110

views and even excited by much of Dunn’s summary of the role of the
Spirit in Paul,;’ but also (again) puzzled as to how these affirmations fit
together with the underlying commitment Dunn sees in Paul to a
conditional contractual soteriology activated by and centred on faith.
To me these affirmations look fundamentally at variance. Like most
discourses, I suspect that in fact we see at this point hints of decon-
struction. That is, these two broad positions do not integrate and neither
can they. Textually they co-exist but substantively they collide; a

collision that in many ways can be resolved only by textual obfuscation

as against articulation.
As is the tendency of reviews, I have concentrated in the foregoing
largely on my difficulties with Dunn’s methodological assumptions and
with his basic assertions that Paul’s gospel is conditional, and hence
also contractual, because it is centred on faith. But as is also clear by
this point, there is much in this learned book that I have benefited from
and can also both affirm and recommend (even if I was not always sure
how to integrate it with its surrounding material!). 32 My final comment
would be ’let the reader understand’. This is a complex account of
Paul’s thought, one in a sense disguising as well as adumbrating the
architecture of a contractual reading of Paul’s gospel, in addition to
laying down a fundamental methodological challenge to those who
emphasize contingency in his interpretation, while in its fair-minded
account of key elements from rival readings it may even-arguably-

the establishment of any divine-human relationship to take full cognizance of per-

sonhood, probably primarily in terms of response, and possibly in many dimensions
(whether aspects of cognition and/or emotion etc.). It is the absence of any human
condition in terms of an action of any sort that is vital. This absence enables God,
in effect, to initiate the justification of those who are so ungodly that they cannot
bear the very thought of the divine let alone undertake any positive actions towards
the divine. So the absence of conditions arguably allows the fulfilment of Rom. 4.5,
5.6 and 5.8 (cp. also 1.19-32), something Dunn’s conditional approach rather
ironically forecloses.
31. And that summary integrates readily with many of his comments elsewhere
on grace, participation, baptism, eschatology, ethics and even ecclesiology!

32. I myself would guide my students especially to the following sections

(others would of course supply different routes): &sect;&sect;15-18 and 20-21, followed (a
posteriori!) by &sect;&sect;4-5, with these discussions of central theological matters assisted
by the more topical treatments like&sect;&sect;3 and 7.3 (pp. 390-498, 533-98, then 79-127,
51-78 and 174-77; a total of c. 250 pages). The technical dimensions also remain
invaluable throughout (see p. 91 above).
 111

contain the seeds of its own favoured programme’s dissolution. I

myself am grateful to Dunn for the many insights and challenges
offered by his massive and erudite description of Paul’s thought. And I
look forward to the ensuing rounds of debate that will tease out the
merits of those contributions further.