The familiar and traditional approach to Paul credits him with co-founding the Christian church along with Jesus Christ. Today this thoroughly Gentile religion is widely considered not only separate from Judaism but, in fact, supersedes it as God’s new covenant people. Meanwhile, when many Jews revisit two thousand years of Christian anti-Semitism they follow the trail directly to Paul.

Feminists home in on the parts of his letters that offer guidelines for the place of women in the church (most notably, being subservient to men and remaining silent in classes and worship). And yet, Paul’s Romans letter concludes with specific reference to two women (Junia and Phoebe) identified respectively as an apostle and a deacon. Gay-rights opponents and proponents argue over other passages and debate just what they meant in the culture of the first century of the Common Era—and exactly what that means in the twenty-first.

So, who’s right and who’s wrong?

To many people, the words and actions of Jesus of Nazareth come across as simple and clear in the Gospel accounts. He proclaimed the beginning of the peaceable kingdom of God on earth. Then Paul came along, and all too often people believe he complicated everything with a message focused on an individual’s need for forgiveness of sin and the promise of eternal salvation for those who accept Jesus Christ as Savior.

Of course, that’s a gross oversimplification of Jesus’ message, for starters. At least with Paul we have letters he left behind. The only writing Jesus did (as far as we know) was some finger-writing in the sand—and even that may have been doodling. The “Quest for the Historical Jesus” is another huge topic, well beyond the scope of this text. Perhaps Jesus (both the man and the eternal “Christ”) could be the subject of my next book.

Paul is often credited with being Christianity’s first theologian, the originator of a complex, sometimes contradictory, and often just plain hard-to-understand theology subsequently enshrined in rigid doctrines by an institutional church that was (and is) both hierarchical and patriarchal. That church developed, expanded, fractured, and split, then repeated the process over and over. Eventually Paul got much of the credit or the blame for what it’s become.

What if that all-or-nothing approach is wrong?

At the beginning of the twenty-first century, Christianity offers a bewildering choice of orthodoxies (multiple “right ways” of thinking) and orthopraxes (an equally numerous array of “right practices”). Every tradition, sect, denomination, and group appears to have its own orthodoxy and orthopraxis. Sooner or later Apostle Paul’s name crops up in just about everybody’s attempts to justify their doctrines and practices. But where is Truth in it all?

Recently I came across an essay by Dwight J. Friesen in An Emergent Manifesto of Hope (Baker Books/Emergent Village, 2007). Friessen uses a new term, at least to me, orthoparadoxy, as a way to bridge the gulf between orthodoxy and orthopraxy. Here is some of what he wrote:

The ministry of God’s people has always been understood as a ministry of blessing—from God’s call to Abraham, with the promise that Abraham and his descendants would be a blessing to the nations, to Paul’s charge to the church in Corinth: “All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5:18). Orthoparadoxy is an effort to make God’s main thing the main thing for all the people of God: reconciliation. Not sameness or agreement but differentiated oneness—where the fullness of one can be in relationship with the fullness of another. Orthoparadox is right paradox—holding difference rightly. Orthoparadox seeks to hold difference, tensions, otherness, and paradoxes with grace, humility, respect, and curiosity, while simultaneously bringing the fullness of self to the “other” in conversation, not to convert or to convince but with the hope of mutual transformation through interpersonal relationship. –pp. 204–205

Basically, in our post-modern, post-Christian, post-denominational (and whatever other post-) world, we live out our lives as believers—including our search for Truth—in constant paradox. It’s a life of certain uncertainty, of being in and out at the same time, of being chosen and marginalized, of possessing knowledge and being enveloped in mystery. Truth is somewhere in the mix, and it can only be approached within the tension of the search.

Certainly, this is an exceedingly difficult (maybe impossible) journey for those Christians who are content with the idea of sola scriptura (“by scripture alone”). They typically hold to a view of the Bible as inerrant: given directly by God, perfect, and with its component parts in total agreement. For them doctrine is a settled matter, at least since the time of the Protestant Reformers and perhaps ever since some supposed “golden era” of the early church.

Combined with this is the idea of sola fide (“by faith alone”). Various interpretations of the doctrine of justification by faith (Roman Catholics, Mainline Protestants, and Evangelical Protestants have different understandings) rely heavily on Paul’s words, especially his letters to the Romans and Galatians. We’ll discuss that later on.

For those Christians who appreciate a life filled with irony, paradox, and competing truth claims, the approach taken here may provide fertile ground for growth and discovery. The Christian religion, after all, is filled with paradox: the last will be first, the greatest is the least, one must die in order to live, and the shame and folly of the Cross is at the center of God’s good news.

This examination of Paul’s life, ministry, purpose, and thinking is not intended to be an in-depth exercise for biblical scholars, although it draws extensively on their work (and for which I am deeply grateful). But neither is it another example of so-called “pop theology,” which often is divorced from a serious connection with scripture.

It is probably undertaken best in a class setting (in or out of church), but individual readers can benefit, too. The only thing I can guarantee is that it might become for you as it has been for me: gratifying and upsetting, faith-affirming and faith-challenging, intriguing and baffling.

What answers I’ve discovered along the way have been both clear and obtuse. Faith communities need folks who uphold certainty, just as they need others who are constantly roaming the margins, asking uncomfortable questions and sometimes making a nuisance of themselves. I occasionally find myself wishing I resided with the former group more often than with the latter, but alas that hasn’t happened.

Likewise, this is not intended to be a thorough, comprehensive treatment of everything Paul said, wrote, or did. For starters, there probably is no such thing as a single, coherent, and systematic Pauline theology. Paul’s letters are frequently and frustratingly contradictory; what he wrote depended on who he was writing to, among other factors.

Other fine resources trace his missionary journeys in detail and explain who did what and when it happened. A good case can be made that what Paul did (his missionary work) was more significant than anything he said or wrote—at the very least it’s probably less confusing. Paul will be studied primarily from his own authentic letters, often putting to one side the second half of Acts.

Of course, much of what is popularly known and believed about Paul comes from that narrative account, yet two factors must be kept in mind: (1) Paul didn’t write Acts and (2) its author, identified as the Gospel writer Luke, wrote it after Paul’s letter writing, perhaps even after his death. Luke quite likely didn’t even have the benefit of having read Paul’s letters—and some scholars think he probably didn’t even know they existed. Comparing Paul’s letters with Acts could easily be the subject of its own study course.

Thirty years ago I had the good fortune to study at Vancouver School of Theology, an ecumenical seminary in British Columbia, Canada. That experience opened me to religious, theological, and cultural diversity. I have since come to value immensely the opportunity to study with Professor Lloyd Gaston, who taught my first-year New Testament classes and, during my second year, a year-long study of Paul’s Letter to the Romans.

Professor Gaston was one of the earliest voices (along with Krister Stendahl, E. P. Sanders, James D. G. Dunn, and others) in what has come to be known as the “New Perspective on Paul.” Even that term is paradoxical; there is no single “New Perspective” but an expanding number of variations. It is singular and plural. But then, why not? Furthermore, the “New Perspective” leaves unanswered a number of questions regarding the complexities and contradictions of Paul’s letters.

Let me be clear at the outset: The New Perspective on Paul generates considerable controversy. For the traditionally minded (particularly Evangelical Protestants but wide swaths of Mainline Protestants, Roman Catholics, various branches of Orthodox Christianity, and probably more than a few members of my own denomination, Community of Christ) its proponents are sometimes regarded as heretics—or worse.

For those residing somewhere in the middle of theological and institutional Christianity, much of the New Perspective approach may prove to be helpful and enriching, while other elements may be just a little too “over the top” for their comfort.

For those closer to the boundaries of progressive Christianity, who are attempting to make sense of life as Christ believers in a postmodern, post-Christian, post-Auschwitz twenty-first century, this modest presentation will probably lag behind their own sense of the Holy Spirit blowing in great force.

I tend to self-identify with the progressive group most often, but I do move around. I’m pretty solid in my acceptance of a literal resurrection, for example, which annoys or at least disappoints my most liberal friends. My primary job in writing this Bible study, however, is to raise questions that can aid in the search for meaning and help people find answers for some of life’s vexing challenges.

Although this is primarily a Bible study, the important issues raised here will not—and cannot—be dealt with in isolation from other critical considerations, especially personal and communal experience. This is true particularly in the final two lessons dealing with women’s roles in the church and homosexuality. My hope is that the Spirit will “hover” somewhere in the vicinity of your affirmations and struggles as you (and others with you) grapple with these issues. Maybe that is as good a definition of orthoparadoxy as I can offer.