The Philippians ‘Christ Hymn’: Trends in Critical Scholarship

Introduction

The so-called ‘Christ hymn’ of Phil. 2.5-11 has maintained great scholarly interest for over a century, with monographs and articles continuing to appear that seek to address important critical issues. Questions including the pre-existence of Christ and ‘kenotic theology’ have digressed and been revived with the invocation of numerous methodologies and the influence of major philosophical trends external to New Testament studies proper. Given the volume of treatments, it is nearly impossible to note every contribution, so this article tracks the major trends in research of Phil. 2.5-11, attending to three central topics of interest: the authorship and origin of the passage, its plausible hymnic structure and form, and its function and theology within the letter itself, including its ancient audience. A pre-Pauline origin seems to be a tenuous, though widely held position, while metaphysical kenotic theology has seen a resurgence in recent years. Promising results have developed from social-scientific and anti-Imperial readings, though the widely variant results demand greater care and methodological control in future efforts.

Authorship and Origin

The origin of Phil. 2.5-11 is a perennial question for scholars. Is the passage a Pauline composition, or is it a piece of pre-formed tradition to which Paul appeals and weaves into the fabric of his letter? If this is a piece of pre-Pauline tradition, where did it come from? Since Lohmeyer (1961), the conclusion of a pre-Pauline origin has been common and closely connected with an appreciation of a poetic or hymnic quality to the passage. This latter concern, and the reasons for that conclusion, will be addressed below. As such, it is sufficient at this point to engage perspectives that, on the one hand, accept Pauline authorship, and on the other hand, seek some sort of antecedent source upon which Paul drew.

The most common suggestion of pre-Pauline origin is a Semitic or even Aramaic background. Lohmeyer is frequently attributed with identifying a Semitic background, though it was a series of later scholars who pursued this question more deeply. Fitzmyer (1988: 473-76) provides a helpful survey of these developments. Martin (1983: 38-41) finds Lohmeyer’s analysis convincing and proceeds to go a step further by hypothesizing an ‘Aramaic original’ based on Lohmeyer’s structure of the verse. The opinion that an Aramaic original lies behind Paul’s Greek rendition depends on the assumption that, not only is the content and/or language of Phil. 2.5-11 divergent from that characteristic of Paul, but also divergent from Greek language use par excellence. For example, Lohmeyer (1961: 10) sees the use of participles (i.e., participles functioning as finite verbs) as characteristic of Semitic hymnic prayers. This argument and others are merely suggestive, however. From Martin’s perspective, the most convincing argument for an Aramaic original is that it is possible to ‘translate’ the Greek version back into Aramiac, and when this is done, ‘the text has a rhythm and evenness of flow that may well be the mark of an authentic composition’ (1983: 40).

Writing some years later, Fitzmyer (1988) raises some concerns with respect to such attempts. The Aramaic of the first century ce is not well attested, so when certain Greek words do not have an appropriate Aramaic gloss, scholars must have recourse to a later period (475). In spite of this hesitancy, Fitzmyer proceeds to provide his own ‘translation’ of the hymn into Middle Aramaic, complete with explanatory notes along the way (476-82). In light of Martin’s comment that an Aramaic retroversion evokes authenticity, it is significant to note that a comparison between Martin and Fitzmyer’s proposals yields strikingly different results. This is evident even in the first two lines.

Martin (1983: 40-41):

בדמותו דאלהא איתהי

וחשבא לא הוא לשללא

Fitzmyer (1988: 482):

וא בצלם אלהא איתוהי

רלא חשב שלל

The latter half of v. 6 illustrates the differences well as Fitzmyer and Martin chose different infinitival forms of the verb ללש. This, and other differences, reveal that constructing an Aramaic retroversion largely amounts to speculation and borders on special pleading, especially when a convincing translation is the strongest argument in favour of its existence. It is not surprising, then, that many scholars have rejected this proposal including Käsemann (1968), who prefers to see a Hellenistic background, and Beare (1959), who, at best, sees the hymn as composed by someone in the Pauline circle and certainly a Hellenist (77-78).

Even if an Aramaic background is rejected, some scholars posit a connection to some form of Jewish Christianity. Kümmel (1950), for example, argues that the hymn originated with the Jewish church. On the other hand, Tobin (2006: 95-102) has argued that the concepts of pre-existence that seem to be present reflect the thought world of Philo, particularly his Logos theology. Tobin’s proposition rests on the understanding that vv. 5-11 are indeed pre-Pauline, but a piece of tradition that Paul and the Philippian church held in common (91). Conversely, as noted above, Käsemann and Beare typify an appreciation of more Hellenistic elements to the hymn and Robbins (1980) has argued that the structure evinces the influence of Greek rhetoric. Regardless of the precise nuance put forward, there remains a strong contingent who view this passage as pre-Pauline. In spite of dissenting voices, Marshall’s critique of Martin heads in the other direction: that Martin does not go far enough in exploring the pre-Pauline origin (1968: 123). Following this trend, contemporary authors tend not to spend much time (if any) defending that position. From here, interesting theological inferences have been drawn. For example, in Ellis’s treatment of pre-formed tradition in Paul, he strongly asserts that Phil. 2.5-11 is evidence of deity Christology that develops very early on in the Christian tradition (2000: 319-20). Such a position is only possible given a particular view on the hymn’s authorship.

Despite Lohmeyer’s observations and the subsequent development of his line of thought, there remains a contingent who want to argue for Pauline authorship. From a literary critical perspective, Black (1988) has levelled criticism in that direction, suggesting that the authorship of other poetic elements of Pauline discourse, such as those in 1 Corinthians 13 and Rom. 8.35-39, remain undisputed. As such, it is inconsistent to reject Phil. 2.5-11 as Pauline on those grounds (274-75). Further, other undisputed passages in Paul reflect as many hapax legomena as does the Christ hymn (276). From a more positive angle, Black identifies literary features such as inclusio that operate over a span of text that includes 2.5-11 within it (281-85). Lying at the foundation of such suggestions is the glaring fact that there is no textual evidence for some form of the passage that exists independent of the epistle.

Whether or not the Christ-hymn is Pauline or pre-Pauline, it is still appropriate to appreciate the hymn within the context of the letter to the Philippian church. Hooker (1975: 152-53) identifies several lexical and grammatical links between the hymn and its immediate linguistic context. For example, the verb φρονεῖτε in 2.5 follows on the heels of φρονῆτε and φρονοῦντες in 2.2. Paul also begins 2.12 with the conjunction ὥστε, which, Hooker suggests, identifies a logical progression in Paul’s thought. Similarly, Rogers (2007: 188) argues for the inclusion of the textual variant γάρ after τοῦτο in v. 5, which he would see as a strong grammatical link between the so-called hymn and the immediately preceding text. Even if Paul did not compose vv. 5-11, he did an impressive job of weaving it into his letter.

The acceptance of a pre-Pauline origin to the hymn has dominated Philippians scholarship for almost one hundred years, in spite of the fact that the reasons for this conclusion have repeatedly been shown as tenuous. It appears as though the repeated assertion of this position has made it a foregone conclusion in the minds of many. Beare’s ambivalence to this question in 1959 and Black’s outright rejection in 1988 do not seem to have made much impact. As such, fresh inquiry into the question of the origin of Phil. 2.5-11 is most welcome.

Form and Hymnic Nature

Scholars have long identified a hymnic and poetic quality to Phil. 2.5-11, hence its frequent characterization as a ‘Christ hymn’. However, Bockmuehl (1998: 116-17) argues forcefully against such a designation. Intense debate regarding the precise form and structure of the passage—particularly its division into strophes—has resulted. In light of the numerous variations, Hooker (1975: 157) does not see the exercise as a valuable one and she is content simply to identify a poetic nature—what she calls rhythmic prose—to the passage. Similarly, Fee (1992) rejects the designation of hymn altogether, suggesting that Paul writes in excellent Greek prose. Following Hooker’s lead, Tobin (2006: 92) suggests that the passage is a prose hymn (rather than poetry) and therefore cannot be easily divided into strophes. Distinctions between poetry, prose, and their relation to hymnody are evidently contentious.

Regardless of the hesitancy in some quarters to provide a definitive structure to the hymn, such attempts have maintained staying power and continue to evoke debate. Helpful discussions have been provided by Talbert (1967) and Martin (1983: 24-41). The first and perhaps most significant attempt to delineate a strophic structure was accomplished by Lohmeyer, as outlined below.

Lohmeyer’s outline is thus divided into six distinct strophes, each made up of three lines. Except for v. 6, new strophes begin with a conjunction, though conjunctions (usually καὶ) can be found in the middle of lines as well. A significant feature of this outline is the removal of the expanding phrase θανάτου δὲ σταυροῦ at the end of v. 8. Lohmeyer apparently views this phrase as a Pauline insertion, given its disruption of the three-line, six-strophe structure.

Jeremias (1953: 152-54) provided an early rebuttal to Lohmeyer’s structure, on the basis of its disruption of clear verbal parallels seen throughout the hymn. For example, Lohmeyer does not seem to appreciate the conceptual and verbal parallel between the phrases ἐν ὁμοιώματι ἀνθρώπων γενόμενος and καὶ σχήματι εὑρεθεὶς ὡς ἄνθρωπος, separating them into distinct strophes. Jeremias prefers such parallelisms in his reconstruction, as can be seen below.

It is evident that Jeremias’s proposal better accounts for these parallelisms, while maintaining a balanced strophic structure organized in terms of couplets. However, to do so, Jeremias removes additional phrases: ἐπουρανίων καὶ ἐπιγείων καὶ ταχθονίων at the end of v. 10 and εἰς δόξαν θεοῦ πατρός at the end of v. 11. As with Lohmeyer, he suggests that these would have been Pauline additions to the earlier hymn (see Talbert 1967: 143). Lohmeyer and Jeremias provide important points of departure for subsequent discussions of the hymnic structure. Talbert’s article, though primarily concerned with theological issues, gives some treatment to structure, including a summary of Lohmeyer and Jeremias and his own proposal. His structure departs from both schemas insofar as it includes four strophes with three lines in each (147). Talbert also excises the phrase θανάτου δὲ σταυροῦ. His scheme begins by identifying the close connection between the lexemes ὑπερύψωσεν and ἐχαρίσατο and forming a strophe around the complete thought that contains this parallel. This construction includes three lines, thus the rest of the strophes are to follow suit. Talbert’s proposal is characterized by its three-line strophic structure, each of which includes a complete thought, and insists upon key term repetition (146). Martin (1983: 36-37) also departs from Lohmeyer and Jeremias, though he appears to follow Jeremias more closely in terms of the phrases he excises from the Greek hymn as it stands in Philippians. However, Martin’s proposal includes six strophes (as does Lohmeyer’s), each with two lines. The two-line strophe is a unique contribution from Martin, given that he envisions its antiphonal chanting, probably in a worship setting (36). Each of these proposals—and this analysis is by no means comprehensive—represents an interesting foray into determining a poetic or hymnic structure. Martin’s is perhaps the most interesting insofar as its arrangement has a direct connection with the social context of its origin. However, all four arrangements maintain the unfortunate characteristic of excising one or more phrases from the hymn, as it appears in the epistle itself. Consequently, Hooker is adamant that an ideal proposed structure would appreciate the hymn as is without removing pieces of it (1975: 158).

Other proposals have been put forward that do not directly reflect a strophic structure. Gundry (1994: 272-73) divides the hymn according to finite and participial phrases, which leads him to propose a chiastic structure (274). The first two segments (sections A and B) of the chiasm each consist of a participial and a finite clause, while the central section (section C) consists of two participial clauses. If the finite-participial verb structure is the means of identifying the chiastic structure than it is reasonable to expect the final two sections to match the first two sections. Indeed, section Bˋ follows this pattern; however, Cˋ is significantly larger than the other sections and contains four finite verbs and no participles. It becomes difficult to see how the chiasm can hold together at this point. In spite of this issue, chiasm is a common means of explaining the hymnic structure of 2.5-11 and can be seen especially in John Breck’s descriptive essay on chiasmus and the importance of literary structure to meaning (1987: 72) and as recently as Moessner (2009: 139). Notably, in each of these instances, the chiastic structure is arranged differently. Thus, while Breck suggests that the phrase ‘unto death, death on a cross’ holds the central position in the chiasm, Moessner divides the hymn into smaller sections and includes two middle sections (c and cˋ), instead of just one (though he still identifies the centrality of crucifixion).

The discussion regarding structure is indebted to the suggestion that Phil. 2.5-11 is a piece of pre-formed tradition and likely hymnic in nature. Some of the most important work in this regard has been accomplished by Martin and Fowl. Both scholars have asked questions as to the function of the hymn in the setting of early Christian cultic practice, while Fowl critiques the methods used to identify ‘hymns’ in the Pauline letters as a prolegomena to asking questions of function. Martin (1983: 43-45) appeals to lexical and stylistic evidence, as well as the coherence of the material surrounding vv. 5-11, arguing that the former segment of the letter is hortatory in nature, the character of which is interrupted by the elaborate christological treatise beginning in v. 5. From these assertions, he is able to move into his discussion of the initial context of the pre-formed hymn. Drawing on his assertion of a confessional emphasis to the hymn (see below), Martin proposes a specific early context for this hymn, particularly that of baptism. Such a nuance is brought out by the concluding phraseκύριος Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς;, which is widely understood to have a presence in and around baptismal rites. This point is further supported by the hymn’s mention of the name of Jesus ἐν τῷ ὀνόματι Ἰησοῦ;), which is reminiscent of Acts 2.38 (1983: 292).

Collins has more recently revisited the liturgical elements of this hymn, relying heavily on the work of Lohmeyer and Martin to legitimize Phil. 2.5-11 as a hymn. In her study, Collins situates the passage in the first-century practice of using hymns in a liturgical context, appealing to several examples found in early Christianity, Hellenistic culture, and early Judaism (Collins 2003: 361-71). In due course, Collins considers Paul’s exposure to Hellenism as good evidence to suggest that Phil. 2.5-11 represents an adaptation of the Greek prose hymn (372). While her conclusions assert a hymnic quality to the passage, Collins represents a strong voice that maintains Pauline authorship. It is damaging to her case, however, that Martin’s arguments legitimizing Phil. 2.5-11 as a hymn also necessitate its existence as pre-Pauline material. How Collins can argue for Pauline authorship yet maintain its hymnic character remains to be seen.

While considering hymns as a form-critical designation and in relation to the Greek term ὕμνος, Fowl begins his inquiry with the basic assertion that Philippians 2 and similar passages reflect a poetic quality and distinctiveness from other Pauline texts (1990: 31-37). Difficulties arise inasmuch as there is no immediate contextual evidence for an embedded hymn (i.e., no introductory formula of some sort; see Fowl 1990: 37) nor patristic evidence of its use in such contexts (see Bockmuehl 1998: 116-17). Fowl sidesteps these obstacles by leaving room for Pauline authorship of the passage, comparing the inclusion of poetic material amidst prose to Rom. 11.33-36. Still, scholars tend to identify linguistic and stylistic criteria, such as the presence of several hapax legomena, that would eliminate Paul as a potential author (see Martin 1983: 42). Fowl considers these criteria to be suspect, in spite of their longstanding acceptance. The linguistic profile of Paul is not large, especially if Colossians and 1 Timothy are relegated to deutero-canonical status, and as increasingly complex structures are proposed for the hymn, it becomes difficult to ascertain what deviates from an established Pauline style (Fowl 1990: 38-40). If this were not troubling enough, the identification of hymnic material based on its content—whether it be praise expressed to a deity drawn from the psalmic tradition, didactic expressions borrowed from the Wisdom tradition, or poetry related to pagan encomia—amounts to circular reasoning if the structure and background of the passage is important to interpreting the content of the passage itself. While Fowl does not ultimately illegitimatize the interpretations of such passages in terms of a pre-formed hymnic tradition, he does assert that these so-called hymnic passages (i.e., Phil. 2.6-11, Col. 1.15-20, and 1 Tim. 3.16b) can be well-understood within, and indeed are inextricable from, their present epistolary contexts (Fowl 1990: 44). More recently, however, Fowl has pushed his point further. Given developments in philosophy of interpretation, the passage’s prior existence is essentially irrelevant to its interpretation in Philippians (2005: 115). Fowl’s comments are to be taken seriously and, while they do not reject attempts to identify poetic form and structure, they do recommend a degree of caution in the reconstruction of pre-Pauline contexts to these verses. Though, as seen with Collins’s work, it is difficult to separate issues of authorship with issues of structure. Attempts to appreciate hymnic and poetic elements while maintaining Pauline authorship must be done with care.

Function and Theology

Susan Eastman (2011) points out that there has been significant debate as to whether the hymn is primarily ethical or kerygmatic—is Paul giving a summary statement of Christ’s incarnation or does he intend to provide an ethical example to be followed? These options provide helpful points of departure for the other theological issues that the hymn raises. That is to say, the function and the theology of hymn are as two sides of the same coin. Other theological issues include the question of kenosis or the emptying of Christ, issues of Christ’s pre-existence, and social, political, and literary backgrounds to the ‘hymn’.

That the Christ-hymn is an appeal to the Philippian Christians for a particular code of conduct is a popular proposal. Hurtado (1984) picks up on Lohmeyer’s foundational work that identifies Christ as an exemplar for the Philippian Christians to follow, seeking to dispute rejections of this proposal (particularly by Käsemann, see below). According to Hurtado, the language of the hymn reflects both the language of early Christian paraenesis as well as that of the Gospel traditions regarding Jesus’ earthly ministry. For example, the servant language of the hymn reflects Jesus’ own servant-hood, the imitation of which was inherent to that role (1984: 124). Submission to the Lordship of Christ implies a return to Christ’s own obedience, which resulted in his emptying and submission to death on the cross (1984: 125). For Nebreda (2011), Paul’s experience at Philippi contextualizes the need for the Philippian Christians to identify with and imitate Christ. Recently, Eastman (2008; 2011) has pushed this ethical program by advocating a mimetic element to the hymn. Eastman claims to detect the vocabulary and themes of Greco-Roman mimetic education within the hymn, suggesting a two-fold mimesis. Christ imitates or ‘puts on’ Adam, while the Philippian church is to ‘mime’ Christ (2008: 429-30). The themes of Greco-Roman mimesis are strikingly subverted inasmuch as Christ attains downward mobility in his imitation of Adam, rather than the upward mobility typical of Greek students in an educational setting (2008: 435-36). Eastman’s proposal relies heavily on seeing an Adamic background to the hymn. Dunn (1996: 114-21) has been a major recent and oft-cited proponent in proposing this embedded Adamic Christology in the hymn (though cf. Wanamaker 1987). Dunn’s proposal is situated in his larger assertion that Adam Christology was ‘widely current in the Christianity of the 40s and 50s’, the Philippians hymn being one of the fullest expressions of this attitude (1996: 114). Contrast between the ‘form of God’ and the ‘form of a slave’ and ‘equality with God’ and the ‘likeness of man’ can, according to Dunn, be best explained through allusion to Gen. 1–3. Christ’s being in the form (μορφῇ) of God recalls Adam’s creation in the image (εἰκῶν) of God, while the reference to ‘equality with God’ may well invoke Adam’s temptation to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil (1996: 115). However, unlike explicit contrasts between Adam and Christ such as the one found in Romans 5, in Philippians 2, the contrast remains implicit at best and relies upon loose lexical parallels (see Fowl 1990: 71). Fowl ultimately rejects Dunn’s proposal in favour of seeing the suffering servant of Isa. 52.13–53.12 as a broader conceptual backdrop (1990: 72-73). Whether or not Fowl’s alternative stands, his rejection of an implicit Adamic Christology is well-made and finds other sympathizers in Gundry (1994: 274) and O’Brien (1991: 263-68). In addition to the questions raised regarding an embedded Adamic Christology, the mimetic character of the passage itself is open to suspicion. Mimesis is far from explicit except later in the letter, when Paul invites the Philippians to imitate him—in this case it is Paul and not Christ (or Adam) who is the object of imitation. The way that the verb φρονεῖτε in 2.5 is understood has significant bearing upon a mimetic, and even ethical, viewpoint. If φρονέω reflects a behavioural process, then Eastman’s mimetic view stands on sounder footing. However, if φρονέω should be understood as primarily mental, then a mimetic view is on shakier ground.

In contrast to the ethical view, Käsemann (1968) has proposed a ‘purely kerygmatic’ perspective. Following Käsemann, Martin (1983: 287-89) argues that the Christ-hymn portrays a soteriological drama or theological treatise on the actions of Christ—an ‘early Christian kerygmatic confession’ (1983: 21). From this perspective, ethics may be present, but only as an extension of the primary christological/soteriological meaning—the Philippian Christians may act according to their standing in Christ (289). Martin’s position typifies what Eastman calls the ‘kerygmatic’ view. Even if Martin’s view can be sustained, it becomes difficult to see ethical and kerygmatic proposals as discrete options. Martin himself admits that ethical connotations necessarily stem from the proclamation of Christ’s actions in emptying himself and submitting to death. Consequently, it is not uncommon to encounter mediating positions, such as that of Hooker (1975: 156), that appreciate a melding of ethical and kerygmatic elements in the hymn.

In among the debate between ethical and kerygmatic proposals is the question of the content of the hymn itself, particularly as regards Pauline (or pre-Pauline) Christology vis-à-vis the issue of pre-existence and kenotic theology. As Lightfoot notes (1868: 131), the issue of pre-existence circles around the precise implication of the phrase ‘in the form of God’ (ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ). Lightfoot argues that the Pauline tradition clearly indicates that Jesus’ birth was the first moment of his humiliation, thus his ‘being in the form of God’ could only occur before this moment. Christ’s pre-existence is a logical inference from the description of the μορφῇ θεοῦ (132). Gibbs (1970) is not far removed from this perspective as he attaches a cosmic dimension to Christ’s lordship given the universality of those who will bend the knee to Christ the redeemer at his exultation. This cosmic element marks the endpoint of a trajectory that began with pre-existence and saw Christ’s servant-hood and death as the fulcrum. Kenotic theology stems from the pre-existence interpretation to the extent that Christ’s kenosis (ἐκένωσεν) is an emptying of his divinity. Phil. 2.6-7 marks a shift from Christ’s pre-existent state in the form of God to an emptying of this form—complete with the privileges that accompany deity—and the adoption of the human appearance (ὁμοιώματι ἀνθρώπων) and servant’s form (μορφὴν δούλου). In spite of its logical extension from the notion of Christ’s pre-existence, kenotic theology was beginning to lose favour by the mid 1960s (see MacQuarrie 1966: 199). The reason for this departure was a philosophical shift in an emphasis on the human Jesus, rather than a pre-occupation with Christ’s divinity. MacQuarrie has thus identified a ‘new-style kenoticism’ (199) that instead focuses upon Jesus’ involvement in a self-emptying while in his human condition in an attempt to distance itself from mythological or speculative forays into metaphysics (i.e., the strange assertion that a God can empty himself of divinity; see Harvey 1965: 337-38). Recently, this approach is best represented in Fisk’s (2006) comparison of the passage with some early Greek novels that highlight Christ’s own agency in his emptying. On the other hand, Gorman (2007) pushes the kenotic reading to suggest that Christ’s emptying reveals something about the nature of God—that emptying is a fundamental character of the divine. This reading of Phil. 2.6-11 has subsequently figured prominently into Gorman’s (2009) emphasis on cruciformity as a central piece of Pauline soteriology.

In opposition to pre-existence and kenotic interpretations, Charles Talbert (1967) addresses these questions from the position that a correct delineation of the hymn’s structure will lead to correct interpretation. Given his structural proposal, Talbert suggests that the first two strophes of the hymn should be considered parallel in structure and thus parallel in meaning. Since the second strophe describes Christ’s earthly life and death on the cross, the first strophe necessarily does as well. Drawing upon early assertions of Adam–Christ parallels (see Beare 1959: 84), to suggest that Christ rejected equality with God (i.e., the μορφῇ θεοῦ), Talbert concludes that Phil. 2.6-11 only engages Jesus’ earthly life and decision to be a servant of God, without recourse to identifying some pre-existent state (1967: 153). Talbert’s work sets a trajectory for contemporary studies, which tend to leave discussions of pre-existence behind. Dunn’s reintroduction of the Adam–Christ parallel provides ample room to see Christ’s kenosis in terms of his incarnate state as the new Adam, and Hellerman (2009) understands the ‘form of God’ to indicate social status, not ontological relationship. I would be remiss, however, to neglect some contemporary authors who insist upon the presence of the concept of pre-existence in the passage (see Eastman 2011: 2; O’Brien 1991: 267; Bockmuehl 1998: 129).

Bockmuehl (1998: 8-10) has argued against a Jewish presence in and around the city of Philippi, and, in concert with this assertion, scholars have tended to seek out social and literary backgrounds to the hymn that do not rely on Jewish cultural expressions (such as Dunn’s Adamic Christology). Moessner (2009) draws out elements of crucifixion and honor/shame in the hymn as typical of a slave’s death, connecting it with the Roman Imperial presence in the city of Philippi. Christ’s taking on of a servant’s form and submitting to crucifixion becomes all the more striking when read in the context of Roman Philippi. Gundry (1994: 276) draws this out in relation to the servant’s form, suggesting that δοῦλου draws a sharp contrast to the use of κύριος to refer to Christ. Wortham (1996) explores similar themes to Moessner, though from a social-scientific perspective, inquiring into the social status of the Philippian Christians. Wortham concludes that the Philippian church would probably have been a Gentile community made up of individuals from a variety of social strata. The christological expression present in Phil. 2.5-11 thus serves as a means of social unity, binding the members of the various strata together (1996: 274). This is accomplished by the hymn’s description of a social drama in which Christ achieves status reversal (282). Reversal emerges as a distinctive theme in 2.5-11 as social status is reversed and an enslaved God becomes an agent of liberation (see Briggs 1989). Similarly, Hellerman (2005) has given reasonable attention to the material evidence at Philippi, offering the proposal that Christ’s actions would be viewed as cursus pudorum given Philippi’s intense pre-occupation with social status. It is also argued (Hellerman 2010) that Paul and Silas’s experience in Roman Philippi provides a tangible example for following Christ’s emptying and counter-cultural submission.

In a similar vein, the passage may reflect anti-Imperial sentiments, given the audience’s setting in Roman Philippi. Heen (2004) notes that the notion of equality with God (isa theō) was a characteristic of the Roman Imperial cult, which would have had a significant presence in the Roman colony of Philippi. Especially if Phil. 2.5-11 was used in a public worship setting, the repetition of the hymn by the community would have functioned as public form of resistance against the Imperial cult (2004: 126-27). The anticipated universal proclamation that ‘Jesus is Lord’ is another feature that could explicitly reject Roman Imperial propaganda that tended to dictate that ‘Caesar is Lord’ (Oakes 2001: 129-74).

Of course, the Philippians ‘hymn’ exists presently in the context of the larger epistle to the Philippian church and, as such, deserves to be considered in terms of its function within that larger context. As noted above, Hooker (1975: 152-53) is keen to identify lexical and conceptual links between the hymn and its immediate context. Broader associations have been articulated as well. Wuest (1958) suggests that the hymn is included specifically to address the strife that had sprung up between Euodia and Syntyche. This is an interesting proposal, though it is questionable that this set of verses, which fits so prominently in the former half of the epistle, would be included for the primary purpose of addressing an issue that receives only brief mention. Eastman’s emphasis on the mimetic character of the hymn (though suspect in my opinion) is situated in the context of what she sees as Paul’s broader mimetic program throughout the epistle, seen especially in Phil. 4.9. Fowl (1990) has made the strongest effort to situate the hymn in the context of the epistle. He proposes that Phil. 2.6-11 (regardless of authorship) is included in order to provide content to the earlier commission to live worthy of the gospel of Christ (1.27) and in support of Paul’s objections against opponents in 3.1ff (1990: 77). As Fowl readily admits, the way in which such goals are achieved is debated; however, the attempted connection between the hymn and the larger context is well made. Fowl’s argument relies heavily upon an ethical reading, particularly that of Christ as exemplar, a position that he eventually extends to other Pauline hymnic material.

Conclusion

The literature devoted to the various issues connected with Phil. 2.5-11 continues to grow. Despite what has been said in the past, satisfactory conclusions regarding issues of authorship/origin, structure, and hymnic nature continue to elude scholars. What may appear to be fundamental assumptions, such as the pre-Pauline or hymnic character of the passage, would not suffer from reappraisal, taking cues from Fowl’s work. In a similar vein, issues of the theology and function of the ‘hymn’ itself seem to go through cyclical trends. Christological pre-existence was rejected in the mid-1960s in favour of more adoptionistic (or at least less metaphysical) proposals. Yet, scholars like Eastman, O’Brien, Fisk, and Bockmuehl resist such trends, opting for more traditional perspectives on the pre-existence of Christ.

A common approach to the interpretation of this passage has been to assess conceptual origins, parallels, and analogues, and to situate the ‘hymn’ in relation to its immediate social and political context, namely Roman Philippi. The resulting surplus in meaning is almost overwhelming: Eastman has drawn insights from Greek mimesis, Heen and Oakes see Paul as subverting the Imperial cult, and Hellerman has investigated the social stratification characteristic of Philippi, to mention a few proposals. The attempt to situate the passage in its material and social setting of Roman Philippi seems to be worthwhile but could benefit from more detailed research into the ancient site (how might the inscriptional and papyrological evidence elucidate this further?) and relating such findings with the letter as a whole.