Social Volatility. The tax situation we have just reviewed is one of several scenarios that scholars have taken up in arguing that we should not understand Paul’s exhortation to political subservience so much in terms of what he says about the state, but more in terms of his pastoral concern for the well-being and survival of the church in Rome. This would make the argument in Romans 13 occasional and restricted, rather than theoretical and general (Reasoner 1999: 161). It should be seen as “the communication of a missionary intervening in a crisis, not that of a theologian composing a systematic doctrine” (Walters 1993: 65). Different volatile historical scenarios have been posited as the background of Paul’s pastoral motivation to prevent the Roman Christians from experiencing the “wrath” of the Roman sword, which he himself had already experienced on several occasions.

Ernst Bammel has hypothesized that Paul is warning the Christians in Rome to be especially law-abiding on account of “Jewish attempts to divert the activities of anti-Jewish officials against the Christians” (1984: 370), but, although plausible, this hypothesis has not been met with wide support, not least because of its lack of documentary evidence.

Dunn, Walters, and Wright all see the Edict of Claudius in the background of the pericope, but have different takes on the dynamics. Dunn believes 13:1-7 represents “Paul’s attempt to redraw the boundaries of the redefined people of God” into “nonethnic terms.” Dunn believes Paul is doing this in order to protect the new, predominantly Gentile, congregations from being identified with the Jews after the tumultuous episode of the Claudian expulsion, in which the Jews were expelled from Rome wholesale on account of some possible messianic uprisings (cf. Borg 1972: 209-11). But Dunn contradicts himself, because he readily admits that it was the Gentile congregations themselves that were taking the initiative in redrawing the boundaries in nonethnic terms, “breaking down or ignoring the very boundaries which had given the Jews their distinctiveness and thus their protection” (1988: 768-69). Elliott criticizes, “Apparently Dunn would have us believe this was a development Paul was concerned to accelerate, in order to protect gentile members of the ekklesia from the harassment Jews must expect to endure” (2006: 221).

Walters sees the effects of the expulsion in a slightly different light. On account of the expulsion, the congregations were ripped in two, exposing the Gentile Christians, making them suddenly vulnerable whereas prior to the expulsion they had enjoyed the protection afforded by the synagogues. “Now they must survive independently, as small house-churches, alienated from the synagogues and lacking the greater tolerance Rome afforded to ancient religions.” So for Walters, Paul’s instructions in 13:1-7 can be summed up that “the best course of action would be for Christians to keep their heads down by living ‘peaceably with all men.’ This would be facilitated by avoiding disruptive encounters of any kind” (1993: 65).

Wright’s view is similar. He argues that, although hotly debated, Romans 13:1-7 “makes a good deal of sense when read against the background of the Roman situation.” Wright sees the expulsion as prompted by riots within the Jewish community impulsore Chresto (“at the instigation of Chrestus”), which he conventionally takes to indicate riots over the identity of Jesus of Nazareth.[1] As such, “the last thing the church needed was to live up to the bad reputation thus implicitly earned. The contemptuous references in Tacitus, Suetonius, and Pliny[2] show only too well how Romans would naturally regard a cult like Christianity: a reputation for antisocial behavior was almost automatic, and the church should take care not to live up to it” (1995: 62).

While these approaches have the virtue of locating the text within the kind of volatile historical situation necessary for Paul to encourage political quietism, they all fail to provide an explanation for Paul’s absolute claims about the just and divine nature of the Roman order.

Borg (1972) attempts to do just that. His approach is to see the text as a caution against cooperation with Jewish zealotism. Borg brings to light a great deal of material showing that, even in Rome, Jewish nationalistic resistance movements were fertile and strong. (There is some evidence for this background in the text since tax-resistance was the zealot party line,[3] but in light of the city-wide tax protests at the time, this evidence is not determinative.) Paul’s council in Romans 13 then is directed toward those members of the Christian community who felt an obligation to aid their Jewish neighbors in their quest for justice and political independence. Paul himself certainly felt an obligation to Israel (Rom. 9:2-3), “but that obligation, though it extends so far as being willing to surrender one’s own salvation, does not entail joining in Israel’s cause against Rome” (214).[4] Borg sees Jewish nationalism as the central issue of concern for Paul. The nationalists are drawing more rigid ethnic boundaries, marking them off as a nation under YHWH, at a time when Paul believes YHWH is eradicating those boundaries. “Christ bridges the chasm—but Jewish nationalism can only widen it, first, because it perpetuates the incorrect theological notion that God’s purpose is primarily for the Jews, and second, because of the social and military hostility which it engenders between Jew and Gentile” (215).

It is in this light that Borg reads some of the more positive appraisals of Rome in the text of Romans 13:1-7. Because of what God is doing in tearing down the “dividing wall of hostility” between Jew and Gentile, it is not his purpose “at this time in history” to further the cause of Jewish nationalism (215). Thus, “anyone who rebels against this authority is resisting a divine institution, and those who resist have themselves to thank for the punishment they will receive” (13:2). Borg goes on to argue that Paul sees Rome as God’s agent for the good of the church (13:3-4) in that, currently, “Rome is God’s minister of judgment against that particularity which separates Jew from Gentile” (216). Borg sees Paul in continuity here with the prophetic tradition which views pagan regimes as divine instruments of wrath, sometimes even for the chastisement of Israel (215).[5] But Borg’s Paul takes the tradition further by claiming that when Rome suppresses nationalistic resistance with violence, it is in fact working on behalf of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The documentary evidence Borg provides on Jewish resistance efforts in Rome is fascinating, and further serves to demonstrate the volatile situation in which the early Christian communities in Rome found themselves. Moreover, Borg’s attempt to locate Paul within the Hebrew prophetic tradition helps us better to understand Paul’s ostensibly positive descriptions of the Roman order. But Borg fails to note that “the call to subordination in Judaism carried an implicit, if not always explicit, judgment of such foreign governments, even if God was somehow using their evil intentions to accomplish his ultimate goals” (Nanos 1996: 299). And although in broad strokes Borg paints a more accurate picture of the Jewish view of pagan power than the traditional reading of Romans 13 allows, when it comes to specifics his argument quickly becomes tenuous. Borg would have us believe that Paul saw Rome as an agent working for his gospel, rather than against it. “By Rome’s ‘contribution’ Borg apparently means the expulsion of thousands of Jews from their homes and the imposition of martial law in the streets; such measures, we are given to understand, are in harmony with Paul’s gospel, which sees only the benefit for the gentile-Christian majority (‘your good’). But this flies in the face of Paul’s agonized appeal in Romans 9-11” (Elliott 2006: 221).

Finally, the problem with Borg’s hypothesis is the same problem that runs right through all of these social volatility approaches. Elliott hits the nail on the head when he writes that “the very specificity of these proposals is also their weakness. If we ask more broadly about the precarious position Jewish communities usually held in the Roman diaspora, we can see just how volatile these factors could be in combination” (222).

Elliott proceeds to document a long history of systemic anti-Semitism in Rome and in the surrounding provinces. Prior to the writing of Romans, the Jewish communities had been subject to the most heinous abuses and injustices, sponsored by Roman provincial authorities. In Alexandria, for instance, during the reign of Caligula, there was an incident in which Greek resentment against Roman domination was channeled against the Jews, who were more readily at hand. The populace put pressure on Flaccus, the governor, and he bowed, sponsoring the desecration of Jewish synagogues, the deprivation of their civic rights, the theft of their homes and property, and the arrest of their religious leaders. These acts in turn had the effect of whipping the populace into a frenzy of “pillaging, destruction, beatings, torture, and murder” (222). When Claudius came to power, he imposed a truce, but blamed the Jews for the mayhem. He made it a policy to deny Jews citizenship, and forbade the Jews who had undergone the persecution from migrating to Rome, threatening that, “If they disobey, I shall proceed against them as fomenting a common plague for the whole world” (222). Elliott asks us to “see how readily even an established Jewish population could become the scapegoats of other groups resentful of Roman domination” (222-23). He then points out that the Jews in Rome were no more secure, that in fact they were even more vulnerable, as demonstrated by two wholesale expulsions, one under Tiberius in 19 C.E., the other under Claudius in 49 C.E. (223). These events contributed to the proliferation of popular and official anti-Semitism in Rome.

Elliott keenly suggests that these considerations “would have led Paul to expect that any popular outcry against exploitive taxes might be deflected onto the most vulnerable population in the city: the Jewish refugees, who come directly into view in Rom. 14:1-15:13. As such, Elliott does not read 13:1-7 as Paul’s political philosophy of the state. Rather, Paul is warning against the kind of political agitation that would jeopardize “the already vulnerable situation of the beleaguered Jewish population in Rome” (1997: 196).[6] “Paul means simply to keep members of the ekklesia from making trouble in the streets. He wants to deflect his audience from private resentments and from the calculation of one’s just deserts, for these are the spiritual roots of scapegoating violence against the poor; and to impel them rather toward mutual compassion and striving for the common good” (2006: 223). Thus, “if Paul’s remarks in 13:1-7 address specific historical circumstances in Rome, they do so in such a way as to extend to those circumstances the more general ethos Paul has encouraged in the preceding verses: an ethos of mutual accommodation and harmony within the ekklesia (12:3-13) and an ethic of nonretaliation toward enemies without (12:14-21). . . . Within this context, Paul’s exhortation to be subordinate to the authorities (13:1-7) focuses the ethic of nonretaliation on a potentially volatile situation” (224).

Labels: New Perspective on Paul, Paul, Pauline Theology, Romans 13