The Anarchist Framing of the Epistle to Titus

From Kierkegaardian Reflections  by Anarchierkegaard

Paul's presumed theological anarchy in the context of lawlessness

Anarchy is a strange beast. To begin with, there is almost a presumed assumption that anarchy can only come about through violent upheaval—indeed, a global violent upheaval which delivers world domination into the hands of the routing anarchist overthrowers1. In that sense, the anarchist, in their desire for anarchy, should first and foremost be prepared to take up arms against whatever object they have identified as evil and prepare for war in the name of peace2. As with so much of secular politics, the deconstruction is barely even worth delving into for a moment further, as the central and internal contradiction is clear to everyone with eyes to see.

With that in mind, posing the Apostle Paul as an anarchist (especially in the context of his epistle to Titus) presumably comes across as an odd move. To begin with, I can already hear the groans of resignation from the secular anarchic contingents, displeased that I have failed to slavishly agree in making world domination my goal—after all, Paul makes no reference to world revolution at all, yet we are expected to take him seriously as an anarchist. Secondly, Pauline scriptures are often pointed to as clearly showing a certain deference, maybe even reactionary ineptitude, to established authorities. Thirdly, Paul is often met with derision and hatred within certain prevalent Christian anarchist tendencies3 in favour of a far more literalist, myopic view of Christ and Christ alone—possibly because he steeled himself from turning Christ’s message into mushy slogans for unthinking many as opposed to commandments to you.

However, this is a short piece on Paul, his anarchic political stance, and the way he breathes that position into the short epistle to his dear friend and follower, Titus. While I am under no impression that I will convince the convinced of Paul’s political stance, I do believe that his complex position is largely misunderstood in favour of gross simplifications.

 

On the Epistle

The letter to Titus is, as with so much of the New Testament, short. It is the letter that carries the love of one man over the seas to the Cretan home of his dear friend and the communities with which he has been committed to—the titular Titus, of course. But, again, like so much of the New Testament, the Pauline mastery that proceeds from this fragmentary expression of faith shows us significant Christian themes that provide nuance and create tension with others letters found elsewhere, and, in that playful tension that adds layer upon layer to the Christian message that shines through, we find praise for good works, righteousness, example-setting, lawlessness, and the rebuke.

And, to the secular mind, keen to sigh once more with indignity, a word that conceals a significant Christian theme will jump out here when we attempt to build it into an anarchist framework: lawlessness. My reader, it seems that I have attempted to do the impossible: to reconcile the notion of anarchy with the notion of law. But with this word and with this word alone do we find the key to Paul's radical anarchic attack on the state, on the world, and on those who seek to turn Christianity into the window-dressing that obscures worldliness as false holiness by way of human trickery.4

We meet Paul in his writing with a greeting:

Paul, a bondservant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ, according to the faith of God’s elect and the acknowledgment of the truth which accords with godliness, in hope of eternal life which God, who cannot lie, promised before time began, but has in due time manifested His word through preaching, which was committed to me according to the commandment of God our Savior.5

Here, in reaching out to Titus and the Cretan Christians, Paul opens his letter by framing the scope which is important for the impertinent would-be faithful: there is truth, it is knowable, and it “accords with godliness”. This, as we later see, is the consistent theme of the epistle and something which Paul attempts to press in Titus’ mind: godliness and the importance of good works in the life of the Christian community.

This opens up the question on what precisely “godliness” might mean for the lowly creature who is all but that. But remember, for Paul, the good is that which accords with godliness—and that which accords with godliness is that which is true. In that sense, Paul has peeled something back for us: instead of “lawlessness” being in a dialectical relationship with a kind of positivist legalism, “lawlessness” stands against “godliness”—to be against God and His Word is to be “lawless”, whereas holding to Him and His self-revelation in the principle-less principle of all things6, Christ, is the mode by which we escape this problem which Paul identifies.

Of course, Paul understood that bringing people to Christ and inspiring change in their lives is not something that is done through moralising finger-wagging—indeed, instead, the path to change is found in holding up the ideal image that allows for “the offense” to possibly be invoked. As part of an image of what a series of ideal individuals might do (1:5-2:15), Paul slips in two notes concerning “good works” which should draw our attention:

To the pure all things are pure, but to those who are defiled and unbelieving nothing is pure; but even their mind and conscience are defiled. They [concerning the Cretans] profess to know God, but in works they deny Him, being abominable, disobedient, and disqualified for every good work. (1:15-16)

…exhort the young men to be sober-minded, in all things showing yourself to be a pattern of good works; in doctrine showing integrity, reverence, incorruptibility, sound speech that cannot be condemned, that one who is an opponent may be ashamed, having nothing evil to say of you. (2:6-8)

Paul, in his typical robust style, taking the notion of “speaking truth with love”7 to its very limit, set his eye on addressing what he perceived as the key failings of the Cretan churches that Titus had as of yet failed to overcome. Therefore, the matter that concerned Paul was “good works”—and the matters that concern us ought to be “what precisely does good works mean for Paul in the context of a minority church that struggles under the weight of the world within and without?”

“Trained by Saving Grace”

For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in the present age, looking for the blessed hope and glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from every lawless deed and purify for Himself His own special people, zealous for good works. Speak these things, exhort, and rebuke with all authority. Let no one despise you. (2:11-15)

Here, Paul plays his hand and shows that his advice to our Cretan counterparts is not just high-minded “oughts” and “ought nots”. Good works, in Paul’s mind, are the product of the faith that “the grace of God that brings salvation” has delivered to the world—and this messages with spoken, exhorted, and encouraged through rebuke that flows from the faithful in their outward expression of faith.

At this stage, no doubt, our secular counterpart is fully ready to depart from our reasoning: the word “authority”, usually framed as the very thing against which anarchists pose themselves8, is used in a positive manner by Paul. But consider what it means to be have a law as opposed to having a law imposed upon you9—if we perceive law as how individuals are reconciled to the collective10, we can see the Christian notion of lawlessness is not one of abject anarchy (or chaos or some other similar term of derision), but, instead, a principleless approach to life which breaks through the need for outside imposition by the Powers:

“We need to be convinced that there are no Christian principles. There is the person of Christ, who is the principle of all things, but if we want to be faithful there can be no question of reducing Christianity (as too often has happened) to a certain number of principles from which implications could be straightforwardly derived. This act of transforming the work of the living God into a philosophical doctrine is the constant temptation and greatest betrayal of theologians—and also of the faithful, when they transform the action of the Spirit, who causes his fruits to be born in them, into a moral system, a new law, a set of principles to apply. The Christian life does not result from a cause but is directed toward an end. This is what changes human perspectives completely and makes the Christian life unique from any other.”11

In this way, Ellul, along with Paul, identifies law interpreted as imposition as an objective view—and, by implication, a grievous misunderstanding—of what God has given to humanity: the way to discover and achieve freedom. The law, when understood as an objective, universal directive, fails to become commandment, i.e., a personal, individual, and concrete address12. As Ellul identifies in the Christian life in modernity, Paul was all too aware that the path to change was not in thumb-biting moralism that castigates the other, but the illustration of freedom to those who are ready to become free. This is clearest in Titus, where we see Paul call his dear friend to discipline in the context of zealous adventurism:

“Remind them a to be subject to rulers and authorities, to obey, to be ready for every good work, to speak evil of no one, to be peaceable, gentle, showing all humility to all men. For we ourselves were also once foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving various lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful and hating one another.”13

Our secular counterpart has no doubt left us alone at this point, dear reader, therefore we can take to entirely theological thought now—that we might be anarchists who are neither idealists nor adventurists.

Paul reminds Titus, as Ellul reached out to remind his readership, that rulers and authorities—whoever they might be—can be offered the respect that they insist their positions deserve if they so earnestly desire it, as if it achieves some lawless end that they desire. But, this is not a slavish call for weakness in the face of an overwhelming power14, but rather the recognition that the powers of the world are “foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving various lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful and hating one another”15 in the same way that Christians have been, are, and will continue to be in a world where they struggle with sin, where they struggle to breathe free again, where they groan under the weight of the world where they have been, are, and will continue to be born again. Christ’s cry to the heavens on the cross, where all hope was lost and all suffering was felt, remains true and even more true for us today: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”16

The anarchy of Christ, then, is found in this Pauline reminder to Titus to hold up the image of the virtuous Christian community and forgive those who fall short of it. The powers themselves, instituted by God and perverted towards sin17, are still only perverted inasmuch as the idealist constructions of human mechanations against the Lord—meaning that they are just as capable and culpable of foolishness, disobedience, deception, lustfulness and hedonism, malice and envy, hatefulness, just as we have been, are, and shall be. To rage against the machine of mass politics, as if it were not a body of individuals hiding within the safety of “the Crowd”, is to rage against your brother and your sister as if they weren’t as such. In the freedom of becoming reconciled to Christ’s Law qua Commandment in the sense that overcomes the threat of lawlessness to the possibility of any freedom whatsoever, we become free from the temptation to engage with the propaganda state—fascist and totalising in character—with counter-propaganda and in the unfreedom of becoming “determined opposition”. In that sense, Paul reminds us of Christ’s mission:

All who are with me greet you. Greet those who love us in the faith. Grace be with you all. Amen.18

The mission of the faithful is to be the body of Christ against the world and abide by the grace with which we are gifted. And, in that, we are free—free from the rulers and powers, who can have their laws and their impositions as a child has its playthings; free from the temptation of the enemy, who cannot bring us into his fold as a weapon of hatred against love.