Review: Dale B. Martin, "Slavery as Salvation"

Martin, Dale B. Slavery as Salvation: The Metaphor of Slavery in Pauline Christianity New Haven, CT/London: Yale University Press, 1990. Pp. xxiii + 245. $25.00. ISBN 0300047355. Joel D. Estes Princeton Theological Seminary Princeton, NJ This engaging study by Dale Martin – a revision of his Yale dissertation under Wayne Meeks – examines Paul’s use of slavery as a metaphor for salvation and leadership. Prompted by the question, “Why would anyone want to be Christ’s slave?,” Martin seeks to analyze Christian language about slavery within its sociohistorical context and in light of its ideological functions. His entry point is 1 Corinthians 9:16-23 and the situation of the Corinthian church, which he examines against the wider backdrop of ancient slavery, models of leadership, and rhetoric. Drawing upon a broad range of evidence, including various types of inscriptions and literary works from antiquity, Martin builds a convincing reading of 1 Corinthians 9 that explains how the image of slavery represents salvation to urban Christians in Greek and Roman cities. After a helpful introduction, in which Martin defines the focus of his book, explains his methodology, situates his study within contemporary scholarship, and limns the shape of his argument, Martin sets out in chapter one to “paint a picture of slavery in the early Roman Empire” (2). To this end, he amasses a wealth of materials – inscriptions, GrecoRoman novels, histories, satires, speeches, and handbooks on household management, agriculture, and dream interpretation. The result is an extremely stimulating treatment of the subject that is firmly rooted in primary sources. While Martin admits that slavery in the Roman empire was largely an oppressive institution, he is also careful to distance Greco-Roman slavery from later instantiations of slavery that modern readers often read back onto the ancient world. He is right to emphasize the complexity and ambiguity of slavery in antiquity, noting that (at least for some) slavery afforded the opportunity for some measure of upward mobility. Evidence from funerary inscriptions, which are largely comparable with freedperson inscriptions, suggests that many slaves were able to maintain a normal family structure and, thus, a certain degree of social stability. Although Roman law prohibited slaves from owning anything, in many cases slaves exercised considerable control of money and property under the auspices of their masters. Slaves occupied almost any job that was available to freedpersons. Martin is especially interested in those slaves who were able to work their way up the social hierarchy (within slavery) to become managerial slaves, or oikonomoi. These slaves worked as stewards of households or businesses and were able to attain a certain measure of power and influence relative to society as a whole. The most decisive factor for the status of slaves, however, was their position as clients and patrons in the larger patronal structure. Martin insists that “in order to understand the dynamics of Greco-Roman slavery…we must recognize that it functioned within the dynamics of Greco-Roman patronage” (26). Being connected to a person in power gave slaves an opportunity for a kind of upward social mobility, whereby they could progress in their own power and status. Indeed, Martin shows that the motif of the upwardly mobile slave enjoyed a wide currency in the first century C.E., appearing in a variety of literary sources, from romances to satires to histories (35). Although most of these depictions come from upper-class authors who use the theme to solidify traditional hierarchical structures, some view such social mobility more positively. All this goes to show that attitudes toward slavery, the types of work associated with slavery, and the possibility for social mobility depended on one’s position in society. That is, “the social institution of slavery functioned differently for different people” (49). It is this very ambiguity that Paul exploits rhetorically in 1 Corinthians 9. In chapter 2, Martin turns his attention to two ways Paul employs the image of slavery metaphorically in 1 Corinthians 9: (1) the use of “slave of Christ” as an authoritative title for leaders, and (2) the use of slavery to Christ to symbolize Christian salvation based on upward mobility and power by association (51). On the first topic, Martin begins by clarifying that the use of “slave of Christ” as a title of leadership was used before Paul and shows up throughout early Christianity apart from Paul. For instance, the notion of slaves as leaders appears in the synoptic gospels (e.g., Matt 21:33-41; 24:45-51; Luke 12:41-46), Acts (e.g., 16:17; 20:19), Revelation (e.g., 1:1; 2:20; 19:5; 22:6) and in the formulaic titles of three of the general epistles (James 1:1; 2 Pet. 1:1; Jude 1), where doulos functions as a recognized title of legitimacy. The term doulos is used also in Titus 1:1, 7; 2 Tim. 2:24; Col. 4:12 as a positive title of authority. For many modern readers, such descriptions seem self-effacing and connote humility; however, in a patronal society the phrase “slave of Christ” would not have carried the meaning of humility, but (to all except the upper levels of society) the implication of authority and power. That is, the “perceived status and authority of the leader as slave depends on the perceived status and power of Christ” (56-57). Thus, for Paul to depict himself as a slave oikonomos of Christ in 1 Cor. 9:16-18 functions not as an egalitarian or self-effacing move but as a symbolic expression of his authority by virtue of his patron. Martin’s second point in this chapter is that slavery functions in Paul’s writings not just to depict moral obligation but also salvation (61). As 1 Cor. 9:22-23 implies, self-lowering has a soteriological end. For Martin, it is critical to see that salvation is depicted not as freedom from slavery but as upward mobility within slavery (cf. 1 Cor. 7:22-23). For Martin, this rhetoric has radical sociological implications: “Paul’s rhetorical strategy does not simply redefine the status of Christian slaves; he also redefines the status of free Christians” (65). Therefore, by describing himself as a “slave of Christ” and depicting slavery as salvation, Paul simultaneously buttresses his own authority, appeals to lower class Christians for whom slavery to Christ represents a step up, and critiques those in the upper class for whom slavery to Christ would feel like a step down. As Martin states, “Paul’s goal in chapter 9 is not to make a general ethical statement – that Christians should give in to the interests of others. Rather he uses status-specific language and concentrates on status images in chapter 9 precisely because his goal is to change the behavior of a particular group at Corinth, those who are taking their own high positions too seriously” (79). In 1 Cor. 9 Paul not only depicts himself as a slave of Christ, but also as a slave to all (vv. 19-23). It is this image that Martin takes up in chapter 3 by discussing the ancient topos of the enslaved leader. Martin differentiates between two major models of leadership that prevailed in Greco-Roman rhetoric: the populist model, in which the leader attempted to identify with common people by socially lowering himself (e.g., Odysseus, Philo’s depiction of Joseph, Nicolaus’s depiction of Cyrus), and the benevolent patriarchal model, in which a leader ruled benevolently but from a secure, firm position of social superiority (e.g., Aristotle, Xenophon’s depiction of Cyrus; 87). In contrast to the model of a leader as a kind, but superior, father in, for example, the writings of Aristotle and Dio Chrysostom (see discussion on pp. 89-91), the populist leader is characterized by an ability to accommodate his speech and life to any occasion and to lower himself to appeal to the masses. Critics of this model, such as Aristophanes, Plato, and Philo, castigate it as manipulation driven by self-interest. The populist, however, can claim that he is acting on behalf of the people for their salvation. According to Martin, this is exactly what Paul does in 1 Cor. 9:19-23. In chapter 4, Martin teases out the implications of Paul’s use of the enslaved leader topos for his interpretation of 1 Cor. 9. In Martin’s view, by rejecting the benevolent patriarchal model, Paul also rejects the normal social hierarchy. He lowers himself in order to gain those of lower status. At the same time, in emphasizing his accommodation to the “weak” (last in his list in v. 22) Paul levels a sharp critique of those at the top of the social ladder. Paul’s use of slavery imagery indicates that the overall issue in this chapter is one of status, and his “main goal…is to persuade the strong to modify their behavior to avoid offending the weak” (123). Thus, for Martin, Paul’s rhetorical strategy is two-pronged: by depicting himself as a slave of Christ Paul is (paradoxically to modern ears) claiming high status by association with the most powerful patron; by calling himself a slave of all Paul challenges all high-status indicators, subsuming them within his theology of the cross. The way these dual meanings were heard by the Corinthians is largely determined by the social situations and concomitant ideologies of the specific people who received them. It is this dynamic that Martin explores in chapter 5. He states: “To those of lower status Paul’s activity and rhetoric about it were not only acceptable but attractive; to those of higher status they were likely threatening or embarrassing” (139). The irony is that those best equipped to appreciate Paul’s rhetoric (the most educated) are those who would have been most rankled by its implications. Paul “uses patriarchal rhetoric to make an antipatriarchal point” (142). Yet, status reversal is not Paul’s ultimate aim. Instead, “the final goal of Paul’s rhetoric in 1 Corinthians is the unity of the church” (142). Stressing the importance of unity, or homonoia, is nothing unique to ancient literature. What differentiates Paul is his insistence about how this is to be achieved. Rather than preserving the normal status hierarchy and convincing those at the bottom to happily resign themselves to their station, Paul sides with those of lower status and calls on other higher-status Christians to give up their own interests for the sake of those below them on the social ladder (148). Conversely, for lower-status Christians, Paul’s use of slavery imagery conveys the possibility for overcoming the oppressions of hierarchy within the household of Christ (149). Martin’s study has much to commend it. This book is well-written, well-informed, and largely persuasive. Martin’s command of the primary materials is impressive; the appendices themselves are an outstanding resource. Furthermore, when using these sources, Martin is clear and cautious in his methodology. At numerous points he admits the difficulty of relying on high-class sources to understand the situation of those in lower classes. He is attentive to the fact that the structures of slavery were not the same in all parts of the Roman Empire or in every period in antiquity, and he sifts his evidence accordingly with judicious care. He also rightly eschews the “genetic fallacy” of historical explanation, wherein the meaning of a phrase or image (such as “slave of Christ”) is derived primarily from its perceived origin. Instead, Martin appropriately attends to the meaning of slavery rhetoric within the context of the Greco-Roman city. Moreover, Martin helpfully underscores the complexity of slavery, correcting a tendency in biblical studies to present a monolithic, oversimplified picture of slavery in the ancient world. In looking beyond idealistic, religious, or genetic explanations for the rhetoric of slavery and considering more broadly the function of such language within the social context of the Greco-Roman city, Martin opens up new interpretive vistas and offers a genuinely illuminating reading of 1 Corinthians 9. Still, there are a few points about which one might quibble. First, there is some ambiguity about Martin’s use of the phrase “slave of Christ” in connection with 1 Cor. 9:16-18. Much of Martin’s argument about 1 Cor. 9 depends on associating Paul with the image of a “slave of Christ,” yet that exact phrase nowhere appears in this text. Instead, Paul says that he has been entrusted with an oikonomia, or a stewardship. While Martin admits that the phrase “slave of Christ” does not occur in 9:16-18, he argues that Paul’s portrayal of himself in these verses conveys as much. On the whole, I think Martin is right, but a fuller explanation of why the phrase is absent here would have been helpful. Second, Martin devotes almost no attention to Paul’s relationship to Jews or to the law, which is an important aspect of 1 Cor. 9 (see, esp. 9:8-19; 20-21). Third, Martin spends little time exploring 9:27 – “I punish my body and enslave it” – although the use of the word δουλαγωγέω seems directly relevant to his discussion. Finally, Martin’s study focuses much more on the topic of slavery and leadership than slavery as salvation; additional clarification about the sense of the word “salvation” both in Paul’s rhetoric and Martin’s would have strengthened this book. On the whole, though, Martin’s study is a fascinating and persuasive exploration of Paul’s language of slavery in its social context. It does not intend to be a comprehensive treatment of slavery in the ancient world or even Paul’s view of slavery. Rather, it is a specific study of one particular function of the metaphor of slavery in Paul’s writings. The focus of this study is its strength. It allows Martin to offer a full social and rhetorical treatment of an important symbol in early Christianity, which in turn opens up new avenues for exploring the function of Christian rhetoric within its Greco-Roman context.