Crucifiction? The Reimagination of Crucifixion as Failed Imperial Ritual in Philippians 2:5–11

Rituals and Ritual Failure

As can be easily observed, ritual studies and ritual criticism are slowly beginning to have a larger influence on New Testament studies (see Uro; Lamoreaux). This is to be welcomed, as the study of rituals addresses an important aspect of many New Testament texts. Many texts concern rituals, such as circumcision, sacrifice, baptism, and ritual meals. Even if the historical rituals to which New Testament texts refer are no longer directly accessible—as are all historical events “behind” the texts—the study of their probable shape and functioning can still inform the exegesis of the texts themselves. This is significant, given that many early Christian texts are concerned with ritual. In fact, as will be argued below, many of the New Testament texts about rituals can be understood, not only as texts “about” rituals, but also as part of a community's ritual praxis itself or a community's interpretation of a ritual praxis, given that the evaluation of a ritual belongs to such a ritual praxis (see the criteriology of Strecker 1999: 78–80 followed by DeMaris: 5–6). In other words: A text like 1 Corinthians. 11:17–34 is not just about “how Christians should celebrate a meal,” or what the meaning of this meal is, but, precisely because it asks questions about ritual, about “who Christians are.” The same applies to a text like Philippians. 2:5–11: It is not just a text that says something about how crucifixion functions, but it also expresses who Christians are as followers of the crucified (and exalted) Christ (cf. Smit 2013a). Rituals are, therefore, more than just an expression of something else in symbolic form (see Eliade). This is in line with more recent theorizing about rituals, in which their own character, notably in relation to the body, to bodily experience, and to enactment as a fundamental mode of identity, has been stressed, e.g. by scholars such as Grimes, Bell, and Rappaport. Rappaport, for example, argues the following:

Given this background, the “rediscovery” of ritual in early Christian studies has rightly underlined the importance of rituals such as baptism, meal fellowship, circumcision, etc., and the reflection upon them for the development of early Christian identity. Through the enactment or performance of a ritual, a community's identity is set in scene and reconstituted (Lieu:147–211). What is enacted may be described as the “script” or “grammar”—terms that are equivalent in this context—of a ritual. In the study of rituals, as well as in their actual functioning, these notions indicate a set of rules, which can be more or less elaborate, according to which a ritual needs to proceed in order to function. Paying attention to this “script” or “grammar” is helpful, both because it helps to shed light on a ritual's structure and because it provides a starting point for the analysis of a ritual:

This grammar, especially as it is used, explicitly or implicitly, by a community performing a ritual, also contains ascriptions of meaning to (parts of) a ritual, as well as expectations about the (desired) outcome of a ritual (see Michaels 2010). In this way, the notion of a ritual “grammar” goes beyond being a “mere” set of rules concerning ritual actions. It also makes perspicuous why the evaluation of a ritual is an inherent aspect of its performance. When using the notion of “grammar” in the sense proposed by Michaels, one can avoid the impression that a ritual “grammar” is entirely static. It can change, even if it does so at a slower pace than its sequential performances. One reason for a grammar to change or be changed is precisely ritual failure and resulting ritual negotiation, as will become clear below. At the same time, due to its function as the set of norms inherent to the ritual, the grammar can also provide a corrective to particular kinds of its performance, should they be perceived as “failures” or “mistakes” when compared to earlier versions of the ritual or to its significance (Hüsken: 337). In this way, a ritual grammar functions just like the grammar of a language. The grammar of a ritual, whether it is explicit or not, therefore plays a major role in the evaluation of a particular performance of a ritual.

At this point, a potential criticism arises concerning the application of modern theories, like those concerning rituals and ritual failure, to ancient texts like Philippians 2:5–11. That is, might the theories involve anachronism? While this question is certainly legitimate, it may also be considered answered by the productive contribution made by applying sociological models to the study of the New Testament in general (see Strecker 1999: 23–31; John Elliott). The danger of anachronism, which lurks whenever a new model is applied to an old text, can be avoided by ensuring that the results from the (primarily heuristically oriented) use of a particular model in the exegesis of a text do indeed have a basis in the text itself and not in the model only. With regard to ritual criticism in particular, it may be noted that this field of study generally assumes the transcultural character of particular ritual patterns. That fact also legitimates the use of models stemming from the analysis of one culture or cultural group to analyze rituals of another culture or cultural group.

Having outlined all of this, the notion of “ritual,” as it was introduced above, can be specified somewhat more. A starting point can be found in Becker's statement that “Ritual refers to an elaborate sequence of individual rites which, following an established ritual syntax, are logically connected within a certain functional context” (Lamoreaux: 154). Such an understanding, which depends on the notion of “script” or “grammar” as outlined above, can be developed further with the help of the theoretical framework provided by Michaels, who argues that rituals can be understood to to have the following five characteristics:

All the above considerations lead to a situation in which, several conditions are needed to arrive at a satisfactory ritual exegesis of a text. One needs

Difficulties lie not only in determining which script is relevant in what way, but also in reconstructing it appropriately. Depending on one's expectations, also with regard to the effect and outcome of a ritual and determined largely by the “grammar” or “script” that one had in mind, a ritual would be deemed a failure or a success. Having outlined this, I can now address the specific categories of “ritual failure” and “ritual negotiation.

Ritual Failure and Ritual Negotiation

Ritual failure refers to cases in which a ritual is imperfectly performed, giving rise to its discussion and (re)negotiation in relation to the ritual community's developing identity (= “ritual negotiation”—see Hüsken & Neubert; for the following see also the presentation in Smit 2013b). A fledgling field itself, this approach to rituals has yet to begin to be introduced in New Testament scholarship.

Rituals may fail for a number of reasons, all related to the “grammar” or “script” of the ritual, including expectations with regard to its procedure, the persons and items involved, and the outcome. A broadly received proposal for the classification of ritual failure has been introduced by Grimes (Grimes 1990), who is widely regarded as one of the most important and influential theorists in the field of ritual studies. The typology that he offers includes various of kinds of failures that are not (mutually) exclusive. Also, a ritual can be successful on one level for some and a failure on another level for others (e.g. a fertility ritual that fails to produce fertility, but does contribute to group cohesion). According to Grimes (1990: 204–05), the following cases of ritual failure can be distinguished:

This classification provides a useful starting point for the analysis of ritual failure in Philippians 2:5–11. First, however, some further observations with respect to the nature of ritual failure should be made.

To begin with, the evaluation of rituals is an inherent part of the communities performing them:

Or, as Grimes has it: “Ritual criticism goes on informally all the time, and its contexts are various—both popular and scholarly. Criticism is not restricted to scholars. Ritual criticism is implicit in the normal course of conserving, transmitting, enculturating, and adapting rites” (Grimes 2004, in Hüsken: 339). In other words: the attribution of failure or success to a ritual is not an extraneous scholarly classification, but is inherent to the ritual and its performance (Hüsken). This notwithstanding, a ritual can fail for outsiders in some particular ways. It may fail, for example, because it is unintelligible to them (category 6—“opacity”), or because it constitutes a violation (category 4), which may not be the case for those actually engaged in the ritual. Also “misframing” (category 9) is a category particularly relevant for outsiders evaluating a ritual—but not only for them. At the same time, a ritual can simultaneously fail and be successful, depending on the criteria applied in its evaluation (Hüsken: 353. 361). With regard to the latter, it should be stressed that a ritual always fails for particular people and from a particular perspective, i.e. it can be successful for some while it is a failure for others. Crucifixion, for example, understood as a ritual, may be spectacularly successful as a ritual performance of imperial dominance from the perspective of some, while it may just as spectacularly fail due to “violation” (see above) from the perspective of others.

Furthermore, as Hüsken, has pointed out, cases of rituals going awry are a great help to undertstand a community's rituals and to the further development of the rituals as such. As she states:

Another significant aspect of the dynamics involved in detecting and discussing ritual mistakes or ritual failures is the ritual competence that performers of rituals and/or its critics have (or claim) and/or deny others. Only “ritual specialists” may be seen to have the right to deviate from ritual norms; others may be regarded as lacking this specific authority (Hüsken: 334–46. 361). As Hüsken points out:

Finally, the “creative power of deviations” should be considered (Hüsken: 346–47). This is an important aspect of the dynamic of “ritual failure,” given that “breaches of [ritual] rules can—and frequently do—instantiate the creation of new ritual rules in practice” (Hüsken: 346) Of interest is also Hüsken's remark that such creation of new ritual rules takes place “frequently under the pretext of ‘returning to older (severer) rules’” (Hüsken: 346). Thus, the breaking of ritual rules and their correction, can be seen as a creative process as well, in which new ritual forms are created, or new meaning is given to rituals. This creative aspect of ritual failure is closely related to the second aspect of ritual studies that is of significance here: “ritual negotiation.”

“Ritual negotiation” has been described by Hüsken and Neubert as the process of “interaction during which differing positions are debated and/or acted out” in relation to a particular ritual and the community performing it. A central feature of ritual, moreover, “is its embeddedness in negotiation processes, and that life beyond the ritual frame often is negotiated in the field of rituals” (Hüsken & Neubert: 1). These insights further develop three aspects of what has already been brought to the fore by the study of ritual failure:

It goes without saying that such (re)negotiation of rituals also points to the often masked but fundamental instability and fluidity of rituals and their performance. Initial explorations in the field of “ritual negotiation” have led to the identification of three main themes associated with it:

Now we can turn, first to crucifixion as a ritual performance of Roman imperial power and then to its failure according to Philippians 2:5–11.

Crucifixion as Ritual Performance of Imperial Power

Crucifixion, of course, can be considered as simply one among many more or less cruel forms of execution (see Carter: 87–106; Hengel: 25–84; Chapman: Samuelson; Cook; Finney). Leaving one's understanding of the crucifixion at that, however, would overlook the ritualized character of most, if not all forms of public execution, both in actual practice and, just as relevant, in their literary and pictorial representation. It is through these representations that (further) meaning is attributed to these executions and that their future (ritualized) performance is framed. But there is more: what remains striking about crucifixion as a form of public execution is its particularly labor-intensive character. Surely, there are easier and logistically more convenient ways of disposing of someone; hanging, decapitation, drowning, cutting someone's throat, etc. all require much less effort than a crucifixion, which not only requires a cross, but also a process of attaching someone to a cross, subsequently a guard to make sure that the protracted process of expiring is not disturbed, and possibly the effort of breaking (leg) bones in order to speed up this process. Furthermore, crucifixion, certainly of individuals, was often preceded by the equally labor intensive process of public whipping, or other forms of humiliating and emasculating treatment. If one adds to this the use of signs (tituli), indicating publicly why a person was crucified, the observation that all of this was intended for public display, to achieve the public humiliation of the victim and the “edification” of the onlookers, and the fact that execution by crucifixion occupied a particular place on the scale of shameful ways of dying, the impression is hard to escape that there is more to execution by crucifixion than just another form of putting someone to dead. Thus, following a more or less clear pattern, crucifixion can be seen as having a ritual and symbolic quality, dramatically showing who was in charge and could do whatever he liked with another person. (Horsley: 6–7) Wright has put it thus:

Malina and Neyrey, then, rightly referred to the crucifixion as a “status degradation ritual” (Malina & Neyrey: 69–92) To this we can add the considerable curiosity of having a poetic text extolling a crucified Lord from a society in which the topic of crucifixion was considered to be unfit for polite conversation (Bockmuehl: 139). In light of the understanding of ritual presented earlier, crucifixion can easily be classified as ritual, even if this is hardly ever done (see Price).

Recall Becker's notion of ritual as referring “to an elaborate sequence of individual rites which, following an established ritual syntax, are logically connected within a certain functional context” (Lamoreaux: 154). Crucifixion, with its various elements listed above, clearly follows a certain logic in fulfilling the social—and even religious—function of ritually proclaiming the dominance of Rome. In doing so, it uses the body of the victim as the ritual “matter.”

Social and religious: is hard, if not impossible, to distinguish between these two when transcendentally legitimated authority is involved, as with the authority of empire or of Yhwh)

Also, crucifixion easily fits into this mold of ritual when we consider the five characteristics Michaels attributes to ritual.

Having thus established the ritual nature of crucifixion, we proceed to note that Bell has identified a particular category of rituals as political rites—rituals that aim at displaying, promoting, and constructing political interests and, with that, power (see Lamoreaux: 157; Bell: 128–29; Kertzer: 2–8). Bearing in mind this aspect of ritual, we can clearly understand the ritual character of the crucifixion as a ritualized, theatrical display of imperial power. This is the case in particular because the ritual was enacted on the orders of imperial authorities with victims as unwilling participants—in particular those who upset the hierarchy of empire or flouted Rome's authority in a fundamental way. (See, for a list of potential victims, Kuhn: 719–45).

Torture as such (of which crucifixion, a tortuous and humiliating way of dying, is an extreme case) can be understood as having its own particular kind of rituality, particularly involving the exclusion of a person from society and even from being a human being through extreme non-recognition. As Kuch notes:

It probably hardly needs any argument, also given the preceding observations, that this analysis of the rituality applies to crucifixion just as it applies to a variety of other forms of torture. In the case of crucifixion, a person that had flouted imperial authority was dramatically and symbolically excluded from society and denied all humanity. This understanding of crucifixion as a ritualized form of torture is one final reason to understand crucifixion as a ritual, specifically as a political ritual and even more specifically as a ritual of torture. All of this remains true, even if the cautionary remarks of Samuelson are taken into account, referring to a rather vague range of “suspension” punishments that were available in the ancient world (cf. Cook).

The precise mode of suspension and the terminology used for it, Samuelson's focus, and the unclarities regarding it do not obscure the social function of such executions or post-mortem public humiliation. The dying or dead body was put on public display and often denied proper burial (thoughy not in the case of Jesus in the accounts of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John), and a message was conveyed as to the public worth and status of this person. Samuelson does not consider the ritual aspects of the crucifixion.

On this basis, it is also possible, following the lead of Beard and Georgia, to apply the insights of Butler concerning ritual to the crucifixion (Georgia: 23; Beard: 25). Butler notes that “ritual is material to the extent that it is productive, that is, it produces the belief that appears to be ‘behind’ it” (Butler: 25) Regarding the Roman ritual celebration of triumph and dominance, Georgia observes that the

Exploiting this “cultural exchange” by the Roman subjects depended on two things. First, one needs to take into account the fact that displaying power and dominance publicly, using the medium of the bodies of defeated and subjected people, always means that these bodies are placed center stage and in the spotlight (Georgia: 23). Of course, such a display was intended to emphasize Rome's control over these bodies.

But the bodies are an interpretive surplus that cannot be controlled. Put differently, and this is the second point, interpreting such a theatrical display is a problem. Beard considers it to be a “central dilemma for triumphal celebrations” (Georgia: 24) and notes that the question at stake is one that concerns all mass spectacles: “How do you control the gaze of the viewer?” (Beard: 136). Thus, putting one's dominance and power on display through the medium of the bodies of the defeated usually meant for a victor also to surrender himself to the evaluation of this display by the spectators, on which he depended for the public recognition of his victory. Thus his triumph depended on the medium of the bodies of his victims. The outcome of this process was never a certainty; through a different “reading” of the humiliated bodies of the defeated (e.g, as the undeservedly humiliated bodies of noble royalty, or the like), the persuasiveness of such a public ritual could well be undermined. Who saw what in the theatrically and ritually celebrated victory was, therefore, of the utmost important, both for the victor putting on the display and for those seeing it. In particular, the question of interpretation was crucially important for the associates (kinsmen, members of an ethnic group, clients, etc.) of the person(s) whose body/-ies was/were used as the medium for the public display of triumph.

As Meeks notes, in relation to the death of Jesus,

Thus, recognized victory—and in a society so preoccupied with public recognition as the Roman one, only such victory was real in any meaningful sense of the word—depended to a large extent on the public's interpretation of the (bodies of the) defeated (Georgia: 24). As soon as a ritual is performed publicly, therefore, “a mimetic sequence of presentation and representation … subjects the spectacle to viewers who necessarily introduce their own hermeneutic” (Georgia: 24). This process and the ambiguity concerning the interpretation of the ritual that is produces are inherent in the way rituals function (see Bell: 184).

We come, at last, to a consideration of crucifixion as ritual failure in Philippians 2:5–11. As has already been indicated, this text invites an analysis from that perspective, given that the outcome of the crucifixion in this text is strikingly different from what those ordering Jesus' crucifixion, (supposedly) in charge and control of it, would have intended. In this way, Philippians 2:5–11 is one of the earliest available literary interpretations of the ritual display of Roman victory over Jesus and his renewal movement within “colonialized” Judaism from the perspective of his marginal and defeated followers. It is evidence of the fact that the gaze of the onlookers could indeed, in this case, not be controlled. It is worthwhile, then, to consider this process of interpreting a ritual, leading to what can be regarded only as its failure from the perspective of its performers, from the perspective of ritual failure.

Philippians 2 as a Case of Failed Imperial Ritual

As was just outlined, specifically with regard to Roman triumphal rituals and the crucifixion, rituals are always in the process of being evaluated, especially when their outcome or performance does not agree with the expectations that one had of them or considered to be normative. The evaluation of a ritual is not fully controlled by those who perform it; as Beard has it, the gaze of the spectators is beyond such control. What comes out of the evaluation of a ritual, therefore, literally depends on one's point of view. In the case of Philippians 2, the ritual of the crucifixion that is considered in this text (v 8, even with considerable emphasis, describes Christ as ὑπήϰοος μέχρι θανάτου, θανάτου δὲ σταυροῦ—“he was humbler yet, even to accewpting death, death on a cross—see Smit 2013a: 92, n. 84) leads to a curious result. The ritual frequently aimed at humiliating, punishing, and killing a disobedient slave (Kuhn) becomes in this text something like a rite of passage leading to Christ's hyperexaltation by God because of Christ's obedience, not disobedience, to God (Bockmuehl: 140). Indeed, as Strecker has pointed out elsewhere in relation to the crucifixion, distinguishing, with Foucault, between the type of authority based on the power to destroy (Souveränitätsmacht) and the kind of authority based on the power to transform and make alive (Biomacht):

Neil Eliott puts it somewhat differently, but no less aptly:

In other words, the ritual of crucifixion had failed and its meaning was renegotiated—from the perspective of early Christians, to be sure.

This can be considered from two perspectives, from one, the crucifixion cum exaltation must appear as a failed ritual for a number of reasons from the perspective of the Roman authorities, given that it does not lead to the (permanent!) death and humiliation of the crucified, but to his exaltation to the very highest of honors.

From the other perspective that takes the crucified and exalted Christ precisely as normative (Phil. 1:1, 2–5), the ritual is not failed at all, but appears as part of a broader dynamic, that of the enactment of Christ's obedience until death of the cross and consequent exaltation. In fact, it can well be argued that familiarity with both of these perspectives is necessary to grasp any of the force of the enkomion in Philippians 2:5–11 (for form-critical considerations, see: Smit 2013a: 87).

This text mimics the dominant ritual script with a twist (Peppard: 130–31; Bhabha). It subverts it in the process and replaces crucifixion as the imperial punishment for a disobedient slave with an understanding of crucifixion as a rite de passage from δοῦλος to ϰύριος based on the utter obedience of the δοῦλος to God (Bryan: 85–86; Oakes 2001). This is a truly extraordinary transformation—one to a truly stellar status, when we consider the meager options for upward social mobility of slaves during their own lifetime in Greco-Roman society, Such a double perspective agrees well with the colonial situation that Paul found himself in and the hybrid identity that was his (Moore; Marchal 2011). Thus, one needs to know how the ritual of crucifixion could (and should) work from the perspective of the Roman authorities, i.e., as described above, resulting in the (permanent) humiliating death of Jesus, leaving his corpse for the birds on the cross (Hughes: 10), and one needs to know how it did work out in reality (assuming the perspective of the early Christian communities in which Philippians 2:5–11 was circulated), i.e. as a ritual indeed, but now of the exaltation of Jesus Christ and his endowment with the Name above all names (Phil. 2:9–11)—indeed, with a lordship that all acknowledge and proclaim. This is an interesting way of putting it; it could also be a pars pro toto, an individual for a people. Should this be in play here, then the victim of colonial powers becomes supreme colonial lord (see Hawthorne: 93, noting that the γλῶσσα in 2:11 can also denote “nation” or “people.” Christ's exaltation takes place at the point at which his corpse “should” have remained on the cross to decay and be eaten by scavengers. In fact, the latter interpretation leads to a complete reframing of what crucifixion is, leading to its failure from an imperial perspective.

Further light is shed on this, when we reflect that Philippians 2:5–11 uses a public “script,” i.e. that of the ritual of crucifixion, a notable and very visible instance of the public interaction of dominators with their subjects. It thus provides, in the private, or at most semi-public setting of the Christian congregation and Paul's correspondence, invisible to the eye of those in power publicly, an alternative performance of it. It does so utilizing the medium of the text and engaging in mimicry, or repetition with a difference. Thus, as a critique of those dominators and their powers, it can be described as a “hidden transcript”—i.e., as an “off stage” and “camouflaged” way of resisting the publicly dominant Empire and its claims, in particular by mimicking it. Mimicking it with a, literally crucial difference: destabilizing the control that those performing the dominant public transcript have over their onlookers and (involuntary) participants, who, in their own space, enact a different transcript, hidden and subversive (Scott: 3–4; Streett; Horsley; Van Henten 2009).

We can now turn to the classification of ritual failure provided by Grimes (as it was presented above) and consider which category or categories might help to clarify further the failure of the ritual of crucifixion in Philippians 2:5–11. To begin with, we note a route not taken in Philippians 2:5–11: that of considering crucifixion a failed ritual performance of legitimate imperial power and authority due to its demeaning character (failure due to “violation”, Grimes's category 7). This perspective would be readily available—for fairly obvious reasons—for members of the group whose (leading) member was crucified. But this was not the case among early Christians. In fact, the demeaning character of execution by crucifixion per se is unpacked nowhere—even if an awareness of its awkwardness is clearly present (e.g., in 1 Cor. 1:23). Instead, a different route is chosen. This route consists of a number of different kinds of failure—from an imperial perspective—and of a complete reimagination and reinterpretation of what crucifixion amounts to as part of the narrative of the early Christian communities. The trigger of this process is none other than the realization, of whatever nature, that Jesus lives (again). The precise character of this realization is not to be discussed here. We are concerned, rather, with its effect on what the ritual of crucifixion and its failure amount to when using Grimes' categories as heuristic tools. To begin with, crucifixion certainly turns out to have been an ineffectual ritual; i.e. it does not precipitate the anticipated empirical change (see Grimes's category 3), in the sense that Jesus does die, but his death turns out to be only part of his transition to new and glorious life—the fullest acceptance and recognition possible, being elevated to the highest position in the social (or socio-religious) hierarchy imaginable. The notion that the “ritual execution” that is the crucifixion does not achieve its aim has its background in another aspect of what took place, from an early Christian perspective, at Jesus' crucifixion: its killing effect was “defeated” (Grimes' category of ritual failure 7), because this aspect of the crucifixion was invalidated and discredited by God's intervention (see: Phil. 2:9: διὸ ϰαὶ ὁ θεὸς αὐτὸν ὑπερύψωσεν, etc.). This also means that the ritual form of execution that crucifixion amounts to failed, in the sense that Jesus was raised to new life, despite its flawless execution; Jesus did die on the cross (note the emphasis on death in Philippians 2:7: γενόμενος ὑπήϰοος μέχρι θανάτου, θανάτου δὲ σταυροῦ), which means that those executing it are left without an excuse, while, at the same time, the power of death (as it is at the disposal of the imperial authorities) is defeated. Thus, the implications of this particular kind of ritual failure go, in fact, beyond imperial authority as such: also the authority of death is challenged.

All of this implies a thorough “misunderstanding” or “misframing” (Grimes' category 9) of the ritual from an imperial perspective, which, indeed, leads to its failure from that perspective. This “misframing” is, in Philippians 2:5–11 most succinctly expressed by the complete reversal of the interrelationship of slavery-disobedience-crucifixion. Instead of presenting slavery as involuntary but socially sanctioned loss of autonomy and freedom, a slave's disobedience as an unsanctioned protest against it, and crucifixion as the appropriate and socially sanctioned death-by-torture of a disobedient slave that reaffirmed the structure of society and denied such a slave any form of recognition as a human being, being a slave (Phil. 2:7: ἑαυτὸν ἐϰένωσεν μορφήν δούλου λαβών) it is interpreted as a voluntary act (e.g., with emphasis on Christ's agency—Lohmeyer: 93, followed by many others). It is seen as an expression of active obedience, and this same obedience is seen as leading towards a slave's (and human's) death on the cross (Phil. 2:8: ἐταπείνωσεν ἑαυτὸν γενόμενος ὑπήϰοος μέχρι θανάτου, θανάτου δὲ σταυροῦ), leading to the bestowal of a divine reward, as is asserted in vv 9–11 (see Smit 2013a). Thus, what Paul expresses in 1 Corinthians 1:23, is also expressed in Philippians 2:5–11: what is a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, is indeed the power and wisdom of God. The reason for this is the radical reimagination of what crucifixion amounts to, and this is possible because, given the post-crucifixion experiences of the early Christian community, in the eyes of this community, and beyond the view and reach of the performers of the ritual of crucifixion, indeed, as a hidden transcript, its interpretation spins out of control.

Finally, the most practical aspect of all of this for the early Christian community, i.e. its empowerment by its reflection on the meaning of Christ's crucifixion can also be captured, from the perspective of empire, in terms of ritual failure. Christ's crucifixion and subsequent exaltation reveal the impotence of the Empire and the power of the colonial deity Yhwh. Given that crucifixion was designed to inculcate subjection, rather than empowerment; fear, rather than courage in those associated with whomever was crucified, and the obvious failure of crucifixion to achieve this in the case of Jesus and his followers, the ritual of crucifixion can be considered a “flop” (Grimes' category 2.4). It failed to produce the appropriate atmosphere and mood. In fact, because of the empowerment of the early Christian community resulting from of the (ritual) failure of the crucifixion, the allegiances of the members of this community are also realigned.

Further light can be shed on what is described as happening to Jesus in Philippians 2:5–11 if we bring into play the role of rituals in transferring a person or a group from one identity to another (e.g., from girl to woman, from deacon to priest, etc.). This is emphazied in Michaels' fifth characteristic of rituals (see above). The process involved in a ritual governing the transition of one identity from another covers is often understood as consisting of three phases:

We should read Philippians 2:5–11 from this perspective, a reasonable thing to do, given that someone clearly moves towards a new identity (see ὄνομα τὸ ὑπὲρ πᾶν ὄνομα) through a ritual. A moment of separation can, for example, be found in the first line of the enkomion: ὃς ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ ὑπάρχων οὐχ ἁρπαγμὸν ἡγήσατο τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ. Verses 7–9 can be seen as a liminal phase during which through self-emptying, obedience and resulting death on the cross, and the reception of a new name a new identity is forged, while Christ, now adorned with the divine name, is reintegrated into the larger whole of the created order in verses 10–11 (aggregation).

In what has preceded, three sets of questions have been considered:

Further aspects of the dynamics that come into play when a ritual fails can now be considered.

It is clear, to begin with, that the question of power is a central one. The interpretation of ritual and the attribution of meaning to it always has to do with leadership and authority in the community performing it, or in which it is performed. When focusing on the crucifixion of Jesus Christ as it appears in the enkomion in Philippians 2:5–11, and assuming that the interpretation of the crucifixion that is presented in it is shared by both Paul and the Philippians (see, e.g., Smit 2013a), the community within which power relations are renegotiated is that of the Roman Empire as such.

The reason why this is the case is simply that the crucifixion, the ritual enactment of imperial power par excellence, is reinterpreted; had it been the sacrifices in the Jerusalem Temple, for example, then the relevant community would have been that of Judaism within the Roman Empire, but not of the oikoumene as such. So if Jesus' crucifixion is presented as a failed imperial ritual of exclusion and humiliation, on the one hand, and, on the other, as the instrument of the successful exaltation of the same person to divine glory by means of the same ritual by God (see 2:9), which power relations are questioned and, at least in textual and ritual form, renegotiated?

In the end what is questioned is the effective power of the Roman imperial administration to definitely determine a person's ultimate fate and place in the whole of (socio-religious) reality. The ritual designed for this is, after all, presented as failed and reframed (misframed from an imperial perspective) in terms of a ritual of exaltation, probably at the background of early Jewish martyrological considerations (see, for background, Van Henten 1997; Van Henten & Avemarie). Instead of utter social exclusion, there is one of utter social integration and elevation (Strecker 2007: 152) As part of this dynamic, also the power of death is challenged and questioned, given that death is also defeated by Jesus' elevation to glory by the God of Israel. The clear meaning of Philippians 2:5–11 is that the ritual expressed there, the translation of Christ from self-emptying to glory by means of crucifixion, is, as it were, executed by Yhwh, not by imperial agents, who are, with regard to this ritual, denied any agency and power.

In fact, in the space of the early Christian community where the subversive transcript of Philippians 2:5–11 has been developed and is being performed, the imperial perspective on the crucifixion is denied all right to exist; it is not accorded a single word of mention. A bold claim is made in this way—and a bold reinterpretation of the structure of the world these early Christians lived in. Involved is a reinterpretation that has at its core the renegotiation of the meaning of a ritual: crucifixion, leading it to fail in one way and to succeed in another, highly unexpected way, because of a fundamental shift in the attribution of authority and agency (see, on empire and ritual, Chaniotis: 5–17).

Whereas one authority is denied ultimate power, this kind of power is, at the same time, attributed to another authority. The reason why and how this happens has everything to do with another aspect of the dynamics of ritual negotiation, to which attention can now be given. Ritual and its renegotiation and reinterpretation is, in this case, clearly more about a kind of renewed signification (transsignification) of the whole of social, religious, and material (bodily!) reality, than “just a matter of ritual.”

Conclusions

Conclusions can be drawn with respect to formal and material matters, i.e. with regard to method and content. They can be relatively brief.

In terms of method, it has been shown that ritual theory and in particular theory concerning ritual failure provides a fitting and heuristically helpful tool to understand both the dynamics of crucifixion as such and the dynamics that come into play when the ritual goes awry. This has been demonstrated above, especially in relation to the renegotiation of a majority ritual by a minority.

In terms of content, the use of ritual theory to analyze Philippians 2:5–11 has brought to light the ritual nature of this text, in the sense of it being an interpretive representation of a ritual, i.e. the crucifixion of Christ. Also, it has become clear how this text, as a Christological hymn that reinterprets and renegotiates what Christ's crucifixion amounts to, simultaneously reorders and renegotiates the structure of the entire social and socio-religious fabric of the Greco-Roman world, more particularly, of the Roman empire. It does so specifically by privileging the role of the God of Israel and reinterpreting the crucifixion of Christ as a ritual of exaltation rather than a ritual of humiliation. In doing so, early Christians also carved out a position for themselves in the imperial world as a whole and substantiated their following of a crucified slave as Lord.