Patrick Vaughan

Extract from Working for the Kingdom - The Story of Ministers in Secular Employment

Edited by John Fuller and Patrick Vaughan

Published by SPCK (1986)

The Pauline Precedent

Any discussion of the occupations of the clergy in the early centuries will sooner or later have to touch on the biblical precedent of St Paul’s practice.  Not that it would be proper to suggest that the later pattern of ordained ministry developed straight from the model he set.  Nevertheless, certain Pauline texts occur with such frequency in subsequent church discussions of the issue that it will be well to deal with these texts at this point.

We know from Paul’s own words that throughout his missionary journeys he was determined, as a matter of deliberate strategy, to be self-supporting.  Thus writing from Ephesus to Corinth he says: ‘To the present hour ... we labour, working with our own hands.’ *  Likewise, he reminded the Christians in Thessalonica: ‘You remember our toil and labour, brethren; we worked night and day, that we might not be a burden to any of you while we preached to you the gospel of God.’ [1]

In both cases, Paul speaks in the plural (‘we’), thus implying that his companions (Timothy, Titus, Silas and the others) also engaged in manual work.  Quite specifically, he cites Barnabas as ‘working for a living’ with him.[2]  This consistent missionary strategy was to cause much misunderstanding and criticism, quite apart from its physical demands - as the Corinthian correspondence bears vivid testimony.  Why did Paul so obdurately stick to this practice? - particularly as there existed a well-accepted ‘command of the Lord’ that ‘those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel’.[3]

This question can be answered in several complementary ways, especially in the light of a number of recent studies.[4]  Current interest in the economic and social status of the first Christians [5] has resulted in a great deal of attention being paid to Paul’s means of support.  All this has revolutionized our perception of the significance of Paul’s manual labour.

At one level, the question can be answered on purely pragmatic grounds: it was futile to hope to win converts and to found a church if the evangelist expected to be kept at the hearers’ expense (as Roland Allen perceptively pointed out in his earliest discussions of ‘voluntary clergy’ [6]).  All the signs are that Paul’s earliest converts were largely from amongst the urban poor.  If he had insisted on his right to financial support, the church in Corinth might never have been founded - so great would have been the financial obstacle to his message being received.  As he remarks

We have not made use of this right, but we endure anything rather than put an obstacle in the way of the gospel of Christ ... in my preaching I make the gospel free of charge, not making full use of my right in the gospel.[7]

What is really remarkable here is that Paul is diminishing a known command of the Lord to the status of a permission, which he chooses not to exercise.  In making his choice Paul explicitly placed his non-observance of this regulation in the context of a great, over-arching missionary strategy, according to which he claimed the freedom to keep or set aside all sorts of contemporary religious distinctions for the sake of the Gospel, including ... even obedience to the Lord’s command regarding support for apostles.[8]

It now transpires that Paul was not alone in his disregard for early principles.  The same process is to be found within the development of the synoptic tradition itself.  The origin of ‘the Lord’s command’ to which Paul refers seems to spring from Jesus’ own small-scale local mission in Galilee, the earliest account of which says:  ‘He charged them to take nothing for their journey ... no bread, no bag, no copper [coins] in their belt.’[9]  Presumably Jesus anticipated the Twelve being offered ‘kinship hospitality’ for over-night stays.  Later on, in post-resurrection time, it seems that at one stage this pattern of expecting hospitality was taken as the pattern for the Church’s missionaries.[10]

Luke, however, seems to have considered that this was no longer an appropriate strategy as the world-wide mission of the Church grew, so he inserted the Last Supper, saying, ‘But now, let him who has a purse take it’,[11] as though implying that from this point onwards apostles must be self-sufficient financially.  Certainly Luke has his apostolic hero declaiming to the Ephesian elders at Miletus:

I coveted no one’s silver or gold or apparel.  You yourselves know that these hands ministered to my necessities, and to those who were with me ... I have shown you that by so toiling one must help the weak, remember the words of the Lord Jesus how he said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive’.[12]

All this indicates that, within the first generation of Christian history, there were divergent views about apostolic support.  There is ample evidence that some unscrupulous Christian teachers took improper personal advantage of hospitality customs and scrounged off their hearers.  Paul and his associates therefore sought to avoid the possibility of this happening in their churches; so they determined to earn their own livelihood, rather than put any obstacle in the way of the gospel.

As the long story of clergy support unfolds, similar instances recur with clergy refusing to accept a salary/stipend and choosing the inconvenience of earning a living.  And always the reason is the same: the missionary motive, sharpened by the nagging question ‘if we abide by the received financial structures, will the gospel ever be heard in some circles?’

It has long been recognized that Paul’s decision to labour for a living was not simply a pragmatic one.  It arose in a cultural setting which made the decision appropriate.  Until recently, that setting was presumed to be Jewish: the Jewish respect for labour and the rabbinic teaching about the value of combining labour with study.  However, recent research has demonstrated that the cultural setting for Paul’s manual work is to be found not in Judaism[13], but within the tradition of the Hellenistic Cynic philosopher.  To Greek eyes, Paul will have looked more like a travelling philosopher of the Cynic tradition than anything else.

What exactly was the Cynic tradition?  How does it illuminate Paul for us?  Cynics (‘dog-philosophers’) were so nicknamed after Diogenes of Sinope, who, according to anecdotal tradition, abandoned convention and adopted the simplest of life-styles, living in a barrel (like a dog!).  The tradition he started in the fourth century BC continued in erratic succession until the sixth century AD.  Amongst other things, Cynics taught that happiness could be found through self-realization, once a person became aware of the distinction between natural and artificial values.  Possessions, reputation, duties to state and family were abandoned as enslaving conventions.  Cynic philosophers tried to embody this teaching.  Not only did they adopt an ascetic life-style but they associated with working men, dressed like them, and engaged in teaching in a style that the uneducated could understand.  A good deal of Cynic philosophizing seems actually to have taken place in workshops.

What is interesting for us is that the question ‘What means of support is appropriate for a philosopher?’ was keenly debated in the first century AD.  Musonius Rufus actually wrote a book entitled with that question.[14]  Effectively, there were four ways a philosopher could gain a living: by entering the household of a rich man (as resident tutor), by charging fees, by begging, or by manual labour.  Cynics naturally rejected the first, but held various opinions about the other options.  One philosopher considered it would be wrong for him to receive personal gain: ‘I generally do not regard it right to take money for philosophy, and that goes for me especially, since I have taken up philosophy on account of the command of God’.[15]  Musonius favoured manual labour, and himself worked on the land.  This both preserved his freedom and independence, and provided a visual lesson to pupils:

Is not the one who procures for himself the necessities of life more free than those who receive them from others? ... Pupils would seem to be benefited by seeing [the philosopher] at work in the fields, demonstrating by his own labour the lessons which philosophy inculcates - that one should endure hardships, and suffer the pains of labour with his own body, rather than depend upon another for sustenance.[16]

In urban settings, handcrafts were recommended, though discrimination as to trade had to be exercised, since many trades merely produced decadent luxuries for the rich.  Nevertheless it was pointed out that there are ‘many opportunities for making a living that are neither unseemly nor injurious to men who are willing to work with their hands’.[17]  Not all Cynics agreed with this.  Some lived by ‘dignified’ begging, spending the day and sleeping in public buildings, but in their very person demonstrating freedom, as in this contemporary portrayal:

Look at me, I have no house or city, property or slave; I sleep on the ground, I have no wife or children, no miserable palace, but only earth and sky and one poor cloak.  Yet what do I lack?  Am I not without pain and fear, am I not free?[18]

Seen against this cultural background, Paul’s references to his manual work take on a number of entirely new significances.  His chosen missionary strategy had led him to dismiss three of the possible four options open to a philosopher in Greek culture: he settled on the fourth - work - which for Paul became significant in a number of ways.  First, his very self-understanding as an apostle is bound up with his work:  ‘Am I not free?  Am I not an apostle?’ he asks - and proceeds to answer with a discussion centring on his work (1 Cor. 9).  Secondly, his refusal of subsisting through free hospitality caused him much personal hardship.  But this he willingly accepted, because this life-style embodied the ‘foolishness’ of the cross (cf. 1 Cor. 4.8-16).  Thirdly, he invited believers to imitate his practice: ‘Work with your hands, as we charged you’.[19]  He demonstrated through his own life-style an application of the ideas he believed in - and was bold enough to invite imitators (1 Cor. 4.16).  Fourthly, his very trade and the workshop it required became a context for evangelism.  Fifthly, although he never enunciated this, his work as an artisan posed a Christian challenge to the social divisions of Roman society.

Until recently Paul was chiefly studied and discussed for his ideas, his theology - without reference to his mode of subsistence (which was regarded as a peripheral matter!),   But now, it has become clear that the one thing which holds discussion of Paul together is his work.  Many earlier studies fell into the common trap of separating thinking from living, ideas from life as it has to be lived out.  But Paul’s thinking shaped his life-style, and conversely his life-style, and conversely his life-style helped shape his ideas.  As an aside, one may ask how far NSMs[20] (and all Christians, for that matter) allow their work and their faith to dialogue with each other.  The story of Paul suggests that work itself can be the integrating element in a life of ministry.

But what exactly was Paul’s work?  Luke tells us that when Paul visited Corinth he stayed there for eighteen months ‘teaching the word of God’, and that during this period he was self-supporting.  He also tells us precisely how Paul achieved his economic independence: he joined up with the refugees Aquila and Priscilla - ‘and because he was of the same trade, he stayed with them, and they worked, for by trade they were tentmakers’.[21]  It is this particular instance which has led some to coin the phrase ‘tent-making ministry’ as a name for the currently evolving non-stipendiary ministry.  Whilst being highly evocative for those with a close knowledge of biblical text, this jargon phrase is esoteric - and is unintelligible to anyone unaware of this single verse.  So the phrase has (rightly!) failed to gain general acceptance.

Tent-making was a specialist form of leatherwork, since tents were commonly made of skins sewn together.[22]  This chosen craft was particularly appropriate for a travelling teacher.  His tool-kit of awls and knives was small and easily portable.  Skins could be bought in any market.  What he did need, however, in each stopping place, was a workshop.  This could be rented, perhaps sharing space in another leatherworker’s shop (as happened with Aquila).  Evidence from contemporary ancient sources shows that workshops were usually small, with sufficient workspace for between six and twelve workmen, many of whom may have been slaves.  But artisans’ workshops were far from being only places for work.  Being often situated by the central agora (market) of the city, they were natural meeting grounds for informal conversation while the craftwork went on.  There is an account of Socrates discussing justice with a youth in a saddler’s shop which the lad had been using as a place to read, and Crates liked Philiscus the shoemaker because ‘he could stitch his leather attentively and still listen to Crates reading a book’![23]

Altogether, there are sufficient texts making association between Cynic philosophers and artisans’ workshops for the following conclusion to be made:

We can affirm that the workshop, including that of the shoemaker and leatherworker, was recognized as a conventional social setting for intellectual discourse, a setting, though, that was used primarily by Cynic philosophers.  On occasion the philosopher was also the artisan, whose shop became known as a place to engage in philosophical discussions.[24]

With this contextual evidence, it is therefore no flight of fancy to suppose that Paul used his workshop as a focal point for evangelism - literally gossiping the gospel while he worked.  That at least is a sense allowed (though not required) by his conjunction of the two phrases, ‘We worked night and day ... while we preached to you’.[25]  Should we think of Paul busily stitching his leather seams while he expounded the Christian gospel?  His silent craft certainly permitted that!  Indeed the fact that ‘handkerchiefs’ and ‘aprons’ were ‘carried from his body’ to heal the sick seems to imply that people were with him while he worked in his workshop at Ephesus.[26]   In passing we may note what hard manual work was involved: as he gossiped with them, Paul’s forehead may have been glistening with sweat - for the word so politely translated ‘handkerchief’ really means’ sweat-band’!).

But why did Paul have to work night and day?  Quite simply because an artisan’s earnings were very meagre.  Lucian (writing in the mid-second century) paints a vivid picture of one of his characters, Micyllus, a shoemaker, who was awakened before daylight and prodded to get started on a pair of sandals.  The seven obols they brought in allowed him to go to the baths and to buy a modest supper, but his earnings permitted him no more than a shabby cloak.  He is depicted as usually hungry, poorly clothed, and cold.  Accordingly death found him eager to lay down his knife and leather.  Lucian summed up the lot of most artisans thus: they could expect to earn their daily bread (literally that - a little bread and smoked fish) and then only by labouring and toiling from early morning until late in the day.[27]

Now since shoemaking and tentmaking were related and very similar crafts (being variant specialities of leather work), and since these conditions were all that an established artisan could hope for, is it any wonder that Paul speaks of being hungry, thirsty and ill-clad?[28]  And is it any wonder that he was grateful to the Macedonians for an occasional present?[29]  It was because of his trade, rather than his travels, that he constantly suffered hardship.  And the hardship was not always physical.  Much of it arose from verbal abuse and slander.  For to many the work of an artisan was to be dismissed as ‘slavish’, beneath the dignity of any free man.  Thus it was on account of his espoused artisan status that he was accused of being a false apostle!

To judge from his written reply to this accusation, it seems that Paul’s opponents criticized him for being ‘weak’, ‘foolish’, and ‘disreputable’ (1 Cor. 4.10).  What precisely was being referred to by these terms?  It now seems very likely that these critical rival leaders were referring to Paul’s scruffy appearance as a working artisan.  For in the very next sentence, he refers to his labour, and acknowledges that he is ill-fed, ill-clad and homeless, indeed like ‘refuse’ or ‘offscourings’ (1 Cor. 4.11-13).  All very reminiscent of poor Micyllus the shoemaker.

So it was that central to Paul’s defence of his status as a true apostle was his defence of his practice of manual work.  The arguments focused on the question of freedom: was he free or enslaved by his work?  One is reminded of Musonius’s argument on the same issue.  Paul admits that he could have taken a ‘reward’ (i.e. a salary by entering a household and having the status of resident teacher/philosopher, in accordance with the culture).  This would, of course, have freed him from the necessity of manual labour.  But he argues that in not accepting support he was free.  As a recent discussion of the issue concludes:

Paul’s affirmation of freedom is thus an unmistakable indication that he understood the issue of apostolic support in terms of the debate among intellectuals generally over the appropriate means of support ... In reflecting on the nature of his apostolic commission, Paul brought in the matter of his means of support.  Consequently he formulated his self-understanding as an apostle in such a way that his tentmaking was a constitutive part of it.  That is, his trade allowed him to boast that he offered the gospel ‘free of charge’.  This boast is thoroughly Pauline, a boast in his ‘weakness’ as an artisan, and very much in terms of the debate over the means of support befitting a philosopher.[30]

This boast was sufficient ‘reward’ (i.e. salary) for Paul.

Many aspects of these bitter accusations and refutations have a familiar sound about them.  Claims that MSEs* are ‘second-class priests’, that they do not have proper time to devote to ministry, that they ought to be seen wearing clerical collars, that they are not real clergy at all - each sounds remarkable like the arguments of those who considered Paul a false apostle!

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Note

This extract is taken from a wide ranging complete survey of the historic perspective of Ministers in Secular employment. Most of us are unaware that for the first four centuries, the church prospered with a self supporting ministry. If one takes this seriously it requires modification of some contemporary expressions of priesthood. Some of the evidence  relates directly to Egypt and Palestine and should be helpful roots material for tentmakers in the Arab World. The whole chapter is worthy of attention for those who are interested to study further.