THE YOKE OF TORAH

S.DEANMcBRIDE,JR.
The fullest and most incisive testimony in scripture about the character of Christian liberty is offered by the apostle Paul, especially in his letter to the neophyte churches of Galatia. Paul's bold and influential claim is that such liberty is the antithesis of life governed by Mosaic Torah. What is striking in the discussion of biblical law and liberty is that the Hebrew scriptures place no focus on liberty. As we will see, later Jewish writers do, but the Hebrew woni for freedom Qjert) does not occur in the canonical texts Obedience to the will of God is what matters, not freedom. Deuteronomy describes the law as having three functions: 1) To establish the relation between Israel and God that already existed (Deut 26:16-19; cf.7:7-ll; 29:10-15). 2) To describe how the covenant people are to interact (e.g. Deut 5:621) 3) To keep Israel distinct from the nations (e.g. Deut 12:1-4,29-32). (Obviously these "functions of the law" have no direct relation to the discussion among the Reformers over the three uses of the law.) If Pauline language were used, one would have to speak of justification and sanctification for the first two, but because of the oneness Christ creates Paul viewed the third function as no longer operative. This three-fold function is determinative for understanding the role of law throughout scripture. For Israel the law is primarily about a calling, a vocation of holiness. This same vocation of holiness is still part of Paul's theology (e.g., Rom 6:15-23), but it takes a different form because of his focus on Christ. Clearly a shift occurs from the OT to Paulfrom law to freedom, but this interplay of law and freedom is a major theme in various writings from the ancient world, some roughly contemporary with his missionary endeavors. We will consider the contribution of the ancient classical writings and the emphasis in the Hebrew scriptures on Israel's unique vocation of holiness. We will then treat briefly the shift in Hellenistic Judaism that occurs with accommodation to the then contemporary language of freedom. Then we will look more closely at Paul's argument. As an anticipation of the differences of opinion, note the affirmation of ancient Israel's unique vocation of holiness, which is well attested in sources con-

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temporaneous with Paul's work. This affirmation maintains that true freedom is realized through unwavering fidelity to the discipline of faith and morality prescribed in Torah. Here, as a keynote, is a succinct, though somewhat cryptic formulation of the view that Paul apparently rejects:
Rabbi Nehny ben Haqqn said: Anyone who accepts upon himself the yoke of Torah, from him shall be removed the yoke of tyranny [dominion, kingship] and the yoke of worldliness [the way of the world]; as for anyone who casts off the yoke of Torah, upon him shall be laid the yoke of tyranny and the yoke of worldliness.1

THE CLASSICAL HERITAGE OF LIBERTY IN LAW Liberty is an amorphous concept Like justice, it is easier in the abstract to praise than either to define or to defend. To become substantivei.e., accessible as a political or a spiritual realityit needs to be articulated in relationship to other, more tangible conditions, causes, values, and goals. Such matters that shape how freedom is understood reach deeply into the traditional identities of cultures, revealing not only basic social structures but underlying habits of life and mind. Jews were not the only ones to consider the role of law ordering life, and insight is gained if we first consider how other ancient thinkers treated law and liberty. In classical antique thoughtas still is true in modem thoughtliberty is most sharply construed over against oppressive forms of physical and volitional constraint.2 Thus the Greek noun eleutheria and its Latin counterpart libertas refer in their basic senses to specific acts of "emancipation," such as "manumission" from slavery, "remission" of debt, and "release" from incarceration or political vassalage. The terms also designate the unfettered civil status of a full "free-born" citizen, in contrast to the unfranchised slave, and the "independence" of a sovereign city-state or nation. Extending these uses, eleutheria and its cognates acquired strategic, instrumental significance in two interrelated streams of philosophical tradition that flourished from classical times through the Hellenistic period and beyondwell into the republican and imperial ages of Rome when their impact on Jewish life and thought becomes explicit. In each of these traditions, the theory of law affects the definition of what liberty is, or ought to be, and how it is actualized in national and personal affairs. The first philosophical stream is the celebrated deliberation about comparative politics and law, which came to the fore in the later fifth century B. C. E., the age of the Peloponnesian War between the Greek city-states of Athens and Sparta. Figuring prominently in the discussion is the appropriate relationship between the political integrity of each state and the respective rights and duties of its citizenry, as defined in the state's indigenous or "customary" legal traditions. According to Aristotle's foundational analysis, for example, it is distributive endowment of eleutheria among citizens that discriminates democracy from other viable forms of constitutional government, specifically those which accord social privilege to people who possess "virtue" and "wealth." Aristotle's model of democratized "liberty" was the polity of Athens, which championed the principles of open debate and majority rule, but also cherished the Periclean ideal of giving each citi-

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zen theright"to live as he wants" within the limits set by just and reasonably enforced civil laws.3 The Spartan alternative, favored by Plato, disparaged the Athenian political experiment as a devolution into anarchic inclusivism, ethical relativism, and moral license. Sparta's communitarian ideal of eleutheria was essentially aristocratic, shaped in part by its leadership in the victorious struggle of the Greek states against Persian imperialism. Liberty meant national autonomy, Sparta's capacity to remain independent of and even preeminent among other nations, consistent with the ancestral legacy of law it claimed to have received from Lycurgus. Spartan polity thus subordinated self-determination of individual citizens to the integrity of the state, whose ordered coherence and well-being were closely maintained through the authoritative instruments of government.4 Major differences duly acknowledged, the enduring legacy of these competing classical polities is recognition that the freedoms identified with statehood and citizenship remain inalienable only to the extent that they are anchored in enlightened rule of law.5 The still contentious issues of who or what authorizes such rule and how it should be constituted and enforced already took on international urgency in the wake of Alexander's conquests. When, in the mid-first century B. C. E. the Roman statesman Cicero addressed them, his reflections became decidedly theo-political. Cicero argued that the Hellenistic commonplace of professing admiration for the deeply rooted customs of different nations does not legitimate a claim of ethical equivalence between their respective forms and practices of government.6 In his view, which resembles the Spartan critique of Athenian democracy, it is erroneous to value political diversity among states per se. To do so only turns decisions of right and wrong into matters of individual national preference allowing them to become endlessly relative, arbitrary, subject to the fickle dictates of tyrants and strange provincial superstitions. Cicero urged that every civil constitution, however long and honorable a pedigree it claims, should be judged on merits, as measured by a universal rather than a utilitarian standard of justice:
For Justice is one; it binds all human society, and is based on one Law, which is right reason applied to command and prohibition. Whoever knows not this Law, whether it has been recorded in writing anywhere or not, is without Justice.7

This unifying bond of "Justice," which Cicero equates with "Law" and "right reason,'9 is also accessible to the whole of humankind because it is fixed in "Nature" and coexistent with the rational mind of the divine creator:
For reason did exist, derived from the Nature of the universe, urging man torightconduct and diverting them from wrong-doing, and this reason did notfirstbecome Law when it was written down, but when it first came into existence; and it came into existence simultaneously with the divine mind. Wherefore the true and primal Law, applied to command and prohibition, is therightreason of supreme Jupiter."

Thus in Cicero's view no excuse exists for international contentiousness about what constitutes justice and good government. Any state whose polity does not exhibit close acquaintance with the innately divine, monistic law of nature has

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no legitimate basis for membership in the community of "free," autonomous nations. Conversely, good government and civic virtue should be correlative with a public theology informed by knowledge of cosmic order. In Cicero's ideal constitution every citizen would be required to participate in public rites that honor not only Jupiter, Rome's divine patron, but the other credible gods and acknowledged heroes, such as Hercules and Aesculapius, whose virtuous earthly lives won them admission to the heavenly ranks of divinity. Private beliefs were another matter, however; idiosyncratic religion was a threat to national integrity and should be suppressed: "No one shall have gods to himself, either new gods or alien gods, unless recognized by the state."9 Of course, Cicero's comparative politics awarded high honors to Roman jurisprudence, which claimed to be eminently just, civil, pious, and rational, as well as nobly pedigreed. His analysis also implicitly rationalized Rome's expanding empire, whose practices did not always match the respect it professed for the liberty of states wrested away from Greek hegemony, w Hellenistic Judaism, as we will see, developed its own versions of theonomist or nomistic cosmology and used them to defend against both Greek and Roman forms of imperialism. The second noteworthy philosophical stream is associated with Platonic and especially Stoic discourse about individual self-actualization, through cultivation of the rational "mind" or "intellect" (nous) in pursuit of sublime "good." Although the typical agenda of such discourse supports an aristocratic posture and is consistent with Cicero's understanding of good citizenship, the elitist objectives purport to be more metaphysical than political. The predominant focus is introspective, comparable in this respect and others to what is now often called "spiritual development." Otherwise, the moralistic themes expounded by Stoic teachers resonate strongly with the familiar didactic lore of Proverbs, Sirach, and, to a lesser degree, Ecclesiastes. For example, Epictetus and Seneca, who were contemporaries of Paul, tirelessly extol diligent exercise of the cardinal "virtues"rational judgment, selfcontrol, justice, and courage all of which are at least implicit values in the earliest Israelite-Jewish sapiential literature.11 Accordingly, the instructions assembled in Proverbs seek to inculcate prudential wisdom, which is knowledge that shapes practical discernment and piety. These attributes in turn are supposed to empower the disciplined student to shun evil and stay the straight course of righteousness; the reward most often promised is "life," secured through divine blessing.1* The Stoic regimen considers the sum of these matters, as in the political definition of Pericles, to be that liberty is the capacity to live as one wants; but as an intellectual or metaphysical status this is attained, paradoxically, by mastering one's deepest desires rather than satisfying them. The self, although usually considered free by nature in Stoic thought, can easily become ensnared by personal passions and ambitions as well as by material possessions. Even love can coerce, often more so than anger or fear of death, subjugating one to another's will. All such worldly attachments and inner compulsions must be rationally subdued, if the intellect is to enjoy the equanimity of freedom. Seneca identifies the proximate goal of Stoic discipline as follows:
Liberty is having a mind that rises superior to injury, that makes itself the only source from which its pleasures spring, that separates itself from all

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external things in order that man may not have to live his life in disquietude, fearing everybody's laughter, everybody's tongue.13

This notion of the liberated self yields another, higher form of Stoic paradox; true moral autonomy, earned and exercised through perfection of the virtues, is at once submission of the individual mind to what is variously, and it seems interchangeably, called Nature, Law, Reason, Providence, God, and the gods. Seneca goes on to say:
I am under no compulsion, I suffer nothing against my will, and I am not God's slave but his follower, and the more so, indeed, because I know that everything proceeds according to law that is fixed and enacted for all time.14

Stoic eleutheria/libertas becomes, in the final analysis, the harmony of human intellect with the sublime rationality of immutable cosmic order. Moreover, this metaphysical state of liberty shows the innermost self to be consubstantial with divine reason and lawwhat Cicero, in sketching his ideal of politics, referred to as "the primal and ultimate mind of God.'"15 The Stoic equation thus brings us once more into the realm of nomistic cosmology, with its grand synthesis of divine order, public virtue, and pantheistic piety. The classical heritage of liberty in law is thus a mixed one. What begins in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C.E. as a celebration of independent city-states, free to be self-governing in accord with their particular traditions of law, becomes in the centuries of Macedonian and Roman ascendancy a cultural as well as political imperialism, made all the more compelling, or coercive, because it claims to extend to the wider world of nations, and to all of its citizens, the benign, enlightened rule of divine reason. A NATION CONSTITUTED FOR HOLINESS Israel's concept of law is quite different. Ancient Israel's understanding of communal identity and national purpose, developed throughout the Hebrew Bible, differs in fundamental respects from the ideas about the meritorious state and civil liberty that came to expression in classical Greek political discourse. The chief difference is indeed theological; it overshadows even the affinities already noted between biblical traditions of wisdom and forms of Stoic thought that thrived in the Hellenistic world. For one thing, "autonomy" in the strict sense of self-governing is neither a political nor a moral ideal in ancient Israelite and classical Jewish traditions. To seek such unqualified independence for nation or self epitomizes perversity, because, wittingly or not, it contravenes God's right to rule. Apotheosis of human will, which corresponds to the prideful self-assertiveness that traditional Greek piety calls hubris, characterizes rebellion in biblical thought, and defines the height of folly.16 To be sure, positive themes of human freedom are already developed in biblical and other traditions of early Judaism. Without them there could be neither personal accountability nor repentance, no diligent pursuit of wisdom or possibility of practicing justice and mercy, no way even of responding to divine

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grace. But these libertarian themes are delineated within a broad, resolute paradigm of heteronomy.17 While divine sovereignty is everywhere presupposed in Jewish and Christian scriptures, the theological patent is registered in the pentateuchal account of Israel's origins. The narratives of Genesis 1-15 already prefigure the whole, sketching the cosmic and international scope of God's providential care that will in due course transform Abraham's lineage through Isaac and Jacob into a unique nation (e.g., Gen 12:1-31; 15:7-21). This providence nurtures formation of an Israelite family (Gen 26:2-5; 28:13-15; 35:9-15); and, using strife among brothers as an unlikely means, guides it into Egypt, in order to preserve it there in time of severe famine (Gen 45:4-8; 50:15-21). Later, in an unparalleled display of sovereignty, militant providence extracts Israel's descendants from Egyptian bondage, reasserting hegemony over those who are already God's own (e.g., Exod 3:7-8; 4:21-23; 13:3-16). Then, in wilderness isolation, the erstwhile slaves of Pharaoh are reconstituted as Israel through covenantwhich is necessary both to establish that they, in spite of their human perversity, will remain the people of God (cf. Exod 32-34) and to define in full the character and consequences of this identity. The crux of the drama, as announced in God's first words to Israel through Moses at Sinai, is sanctification rather than political liberation (Exod 19:4-6):
You have seen what I did to Egypt: I bore you up on eagles9 wings and brought you to myself. So now if you heed me and keep my covenant, you shall be my most treasured one among all the peoples. The entire earth is indeed mine, and you shall become my priestly dominion, a holy nation.

Formal acceptance of God's sovereignty by Israel, which means faithful observance of the covenant, commits both parties to the creation of something new in the wider world over which God will continue to rule. Israel is to become a "holy nation" (Exod 19:6), a people not only belonging to God but one conformed in its national life to the holiness that is God's chief attribute.* For this hallowing to be complete, Israel must receive in trust and observantly implement a unique legacy: the constitutional provisions legislated through Moses, who is God's human surrogate as well as preeminent servant (Exod 14:31; cf. Deut 34:10-12). What Mosesinspired leader, intercessor, and lawgiver transfers to Israel is, in effect, his own vocational mandate of holiness, promulgated as Torah. The extended corpora of pentateuchal legislation, which together comprise the substance of Torah, detail the threefold significance of Israel's sanctification.^ Above all, sanctification in this context refers to the intimate bonding between God and corporate Israel, initiated in the Exodus from Egypt and consummated in covenant-making at Sinai/Horeb (e.g., Exod 24:l-ll;Deut 7:7-11; 26:1619). The fundamentally discrete roles of sovereign God and servant people are never to be abandoned in this permanent relationship, nor are they to become confused without peril to Israel. But the parties do convene in holiness, and they will continue to pledge their troths through reciprocal acts of consecration and praise, and shared blessing (e.g., Lev 22:31-33; Num 6:23-27; Deut 26:1-10). The Mosaic legacy of Torah describes how this privileged communion of

The Yoke of Torah

Israel with God can be both enjoyed and sustained. It identifies the depth of divine pathos that makes the continuing relationship viable (Exod 34:6-9) and specifies accompanying rules of intimacy (e.g., Exod 22:31 [30]; 31: 12-13; Lev 10:311; 11:44-45). To the correlative category of legislation belong also the elaborate directions for construction of the tabernacle cultus, by means of which God's exalted presence may henceforth accompany Israel, ruling with majesty and grace in its midst rather than from afar (cf. Exod 25:8-9; 29:43-46; 34:6-10; 40:34-38; Num 9:15-23). Included here as well are not only the rites of consecration, seasonal celebration, and sacrificial expiation, prescribed through much of Leviticus, but the ordinances in Deuteronomy which, for God's sake and Israel's, distinguish betweenrightand wrong ways of worship (e.g., Deut 4:9-20; 12:2-32; 14:1-21). Second, sanctification affects a crucial transformation of Israelite personal identity and public ethos.21 Transfer of allegiance from Pharaoh to God is not an emancipation of each individual to pursue the Periclean ideal of an independent, self-fulfilling life, appropriately governed by introspective reason and conscience. Neither, however, does Israel's covenantal commitment replace Pharaoh's tyranny with mindless subservience to immutable divine authority. The new life, granted to Israel in the service of God, comes first of all as a commission to make society into a domain of holiness, where individuals relate to one another in imitation of God's revealed character (e.g., Lev 19:2-3; Deut 6:20-25; 10:12-16; 14:2). Accordingly, Torah not only delineates the responsibilities and restrictions that pertain to sacerdotal personnelthe Aaronids and Lvites, who are full-time specialists in holiness (e.g., Lev 10:8-15; Num 3:5-13; 18:1-24)but develops the civil institutions, offices, economic priorities, juridical procedures, and rules of righteousness by means of which God's own devotion to equity and compassion becomes Israel's public trust (e.g., Lev 19:9-37; Deut 1:917; 15: 1-18; 16: 16-18; 24:6-22).* It is important to observe how legislation most relevant to this second dimension of sanctification shapes one of ancient Israel's principal contributions to the legacy of civil liberty. Although the life of holiness is defined largely in terms of duties that are incumbent upon individual Israelites, these obligations often entail active acknowledgement of rights of other personsfellow citizens and resident aliens aliketo life secured in dignity, property, and livelihood.23 Just as the duty to love God with one's whole being epitomizes the first dimension of sanctification (Deut 6:4-5), so the second, complementary dimension is effectively encapsulated in the injunctions to love the neighbor as oneself, but also the alien who is already in God's fold, just as the enslaved Israelites had been in Egypt (Lev 19:18,34; cf. Deut 10:17-22).* Separation is an intrinsic, yet paradoxical aspect of Israel's sanctification. In the great deliverance, God repossesses Israelite slaves, forcefully wresting them away from both Egypt's power and captivating prosperity (Exod 14:5-15:21; Deut 4:20, 34; cf. Num 11:1-16). Or, as Exodus 19:4 describes this epic performance, Israel is carried aloft "on eagles' wings" into God's nurturing presence away from entrapment in Egypt, obviously, but removed too from territories allotted to other nations (cf. Deut 32:8-10; 2:3-19; Num 23:9). And Israel's separation is to be permanent, even though die isolated encampment in the wilderness, at Sinai/Horeb, is only a way-station, a temporary sanctuary suited for physical respite

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and sublime spiritual focus (cf. Exod 5:13; Num 23:9). Although others might find this austere desert-place fit for holy life, if little else, it is not where Israel can properly pursue its vocation of holiness. That will commence in a national homeland, determined long before and assigned in promise to Abraham (Gen 12:1; 15:18-21; 17:8; cf. Exod 33:1; Deut 1:6-8)in spite of the inconvenient facts that the territory in question is small, largely mountainous, already occupied, and hedged about by other nations. Nevertheless, God's "priestly kingdom and holy nation" will have its geographical locus there, in the land of the Canaanites, set apart among them and interconnected with nations of the wider world over which God is sovereign. For how else can the vocation of holiness become, at one and the same time, a sacral reality within Israel's own society and a source of blessing to peoples round about and beyond, fulfilling the divine plan announced to Abraham (Gen 12:2-3; 22:17-18; cf. 11:1-9)7 This third, paradoxical dimension of sanctification is apparent throughout the legislation of Torah. It informs provisions and briefs regarding Israel's chosenness for divine service, the stringent safeguards against violation of sanctity, the extravagant rules to promote piety and moral purity, and the mandates for relentless pursuit of justice. To be sure, it also comes to expression in militant xenophobia, directed toward any residue of the homeland's former occupants, whose ways are identified as the antithesis of holiness (e.g., Exod 34:11-16; Lev 20:2226; Num 33:51-56)25 The threefold significance of Israel's sanctification is not only a feature of pentateuchal law; it is evident throughout the rest of Hebrew scripturesin the books of historiography and prophecy, in psalms, sapiential instructions, and familiar stories about human suffering and divine grace. All of this literary tradition fits the extended vita of a holy nation, which was constituted neither to gain an empire, though it sometimes tried, nor to conform with the ways of the world. Israel was constituted for a long term vocation of holiness and blessing and to become a lamp of justice, illuminating the world with the light of God's law (Isa 2:2-4; 42:19; 49:1-6; 51:1-8). Exhortations at the beginning and end of the division "Prophets" remind us of the first function of Israel's covenantal law, which is to define and secure an intimate relationship with the sovereign God. The opening exhortation in Joshua 1:8 states: "This book of the Torah should never leave your mouth; meditate on it, day and night, so that you may diligently observe everything written in it." The concluding exhortation in Malachi 4:4 [3:22] echoes this as a reminder of how to live toward the full realization of God's kingdom: "Remember the Torah of Moses, my servant, the legislation with which I charged him on behalf of all Israel." The second principal function of the law is to form the people of God into a community of holiness, whose members live together in harmony, sharing the fruits of exuberant justice and compassion which are God's own delight. Listen to the instruction in how to accomplish this in the familiar words at the beginning of the "Writings" division in the Hebrew Bible:
Happy is the person who does not follow the counsel of the wicked, or take the path of sinners, or reside in the company of the obstinate;

The Yoke of Torah But whose delight is rather in the Lord's Torah, and who meditates with this Torah day and night Such persons are like trees, planted by flowing waters, yielding their fruits in season, and their leaves do not wither; In all that they do, they prosper. (Ps 1:1-3)

The third function of the law, which is to define Israel's distinctive vocation of holiness over against and in relationship to other peoples, reverberates throughout the books of the Prophets and Writings. But it is attested especially in the poignant, compelling prophetic words of judgment and hope, in the oracles and visions that wrestle constantly with what it means to be the people of God, and even whether or not there wiU be a future for Israel. These witnesses remind us still that God's people are constituted neither to gain an earthly empire nor to be crushed by any (the yoke of dominion), nor otherwise to go out of business by conforming to the invidious ways of the world (the yoke of worldliness). What rabbinical tradition means by accepting "the yoke of Torah" is one's willing participation in the difficult and joyful, long-term and liberating vocation of holiness. It is a role distinct from the usual ways of nations, but lived toward fulfillment among diem. The Isaianic visionary affirmed much the same task for both the present and the future when he described God's trusted, though often beleaguered and sometimes despised servant who was to become an inextinguishable lamp of justice, illuminating the world with the light of God's law (Isa 2:2-4; 42:1-9; 49: ; 51:1-8; cf. Matt 5:14-20) LIBERTY IN OBSERVANCE OF TORAH IN JEWISH SOURCES Nowhere in the Pentateuch, nor in the Prophets and Writings for that matter, do we encounter the term herut, which is the Hebrew equivalent of Greek eleutheria and Latin libertas. While this may seem surprising at first, it is fully consistent with the portrait sketched in the preceding section of ancient Israel's identity as a "holy nation," belonging not to itself but to God, and seeking always to conform through the grace of sanctification to the character of God as revealed in Torah. However, when Israel through the agency of its later teachers and political leaders gave account of itself to the Hellenistic world, the indigenous language of covenantal sanctification and vocational holiness found new expression in harmonious Greek and Latin idioms of liberty. Not surprisingly, the common ground for discourse seemed to be respect for "law." Cultured Gentiles and Jews alike prized law in several of its most familiar manifestations: as an inheritance of national identity, received in written form or customary practice from the ancestors; as functioning civil polity designed to promote good government, economic well-being, and social justice, and, cast more in prudential than jurisprudential forms, as instruction in right thinking and virtuous living. Even law in the intellectual senses of nature's order and cosmic design was an easily shared interest among diverse Hellenistic nations, as it presumably has been since the remotest origins of human civilization. That Judaism professed and sought an absolute commitment to law is not surprising. But during Hellenistic times the language of freedom became increas-

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ingly associated with law. Partly this was occasioned by the political realities of subjugation by and rebellion against foreign powers who tried to get them to abandon the law. The mainstream Jewish position during Hellenistic times supported the aim to recover and implement the bond with God through political independence, freeing especially the temple precincts from Greek and Roman profanations. The books of Maccabees use eleutheria of "Israel's" political independence and theological identity in relationship to its "customary laws," i.e. Torah.26 Gamaliel is credited with the expression "from bondage to freedom"27 which at some point (probably by early second century) finds its way into the Passover liturgy. This statement portrays for the first time in Jewish sources that the Exodus from Egypt was a divine enactment of Israel's political "liberation." In this period too coins begin to appear marked with "the freedom of Zion!"which I take to mean both political freedom and freedom to fulfill the vocation of a "holy nation." In his defenses of the Torah in Against Apion, Josephus emphasizes how fidelity to Torah unifies all Jews in obedience to God. He uses "freedom" and the idea of "free citizens" to describe this communal bond, especially in his account of Jewish resistance in the first revolt. To abandon this commitment to Torah is to relinquish one's membership in Israel as the people of God, which of course Paul would challenge. Further, Philo^-in close conversation with Platonic and Stoic ideas treats individual freedom as perfection of the self through virtuous living. This is accomplished for him through the discipline of obedience to Torah. Moses epitomizes friendship with God, which is the goal connoted in the title of his work Every Good Man is Free. For Philo, in contrast to the Stoics, this is not simply a matter of the disciplined individual discovering, as it were, his essential divinity. God remains God. And God reaches out to offer "redemption and liberty" to those who worship and seek refuge with the deity. God "lightens their tasks" and provides for "the soul's salvation"just as in the liberation of Israelite slaves from Egypt. Philo wants Gentile converts to Judaism, to bring them into the communion of "holy people" as "friends of God."28 The latter expression and such parallels as "friends of the emperor" were widely used in Hellenistic politics and religious thought. These sources connect law and liberty in ways quite different from any discussion in the NT, but they do show the increasing focus on freedom. They also show law and liberty were not viewed as polar opposites. Jews did not seek freedom from the law; they sought freedom from outside interference so they could observe the law. FREEDOM IN CHRISTTHE PAULINE TEACHING Paul's teaching on freedom does not exist independently of the rest of his theology. An understanding of his focus on freedom requires attention to the foundations of his argument. The basic assumption of his thought is that God is sovereign, which means God rules over all, both nature and nations, as God chooses. Divine sovereignty and freedom lie at the base of any thought of human freedom. Already in Galatians in the treatment of Paul's commission and God's work in Christ, God's ac-

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tivity lies outside the normal channels of human authority (1: 1-3, 11-12, 15-17). Later in 4:1-7 the broader divine plan is summarized. The goal from the beginning of God's activity was to manifest this rule among all people in fulfillment of the promise made to Abraham in Genesis 12:3, as Galatians 3:8,14 and 29 show. Debate about the "righteousness" issue has too often obscured the basic theme of blessing that comes from Genesis 12:3. The promise can only be fulfilled by the creation of descendants of Abraham, which Paul sees at least partly fulfilled in the inclusion of the Gentiles. These people are descendants of Abraham because of a like faith that was "reckoned as righteousness"(Gal 3:6). When Paul talks about the Law, he is not speaking only or even primarily about "rules and regulations," and he does not suggest the problem with the law is "legalism." Radier, the law is integral in Paul's viewas in the Pentateuch itself and the basic Jewish identityto Israel's vocation of holiness. Paul does not deny that this was in full accord with God's providence. Where he differed from the traditional and contemporary Jewish view is in the matter of how the vocation of holiness came to fulfillment. Paul says it happened because God completed holiness in Christ. Christ effected sanctification for Jews under the law and Gentiles alike. This justification-sanctification is the means by which Genesis 12:3 is accomplished. Since it has happened, issues of circumcision and non-circumcision, dietary habits, and particular observances have all become irrelevant. That is because these were ways that Israel was kept distinct from the nations for its mission. But that missionin the paradox of the third sense of sanctificationwould consummate when Israel's distinctiveness was no longer crucial or even necessary. In fact, Israel's separation got in the way of what God had done in Christ when zealous Jewish-Christians tried to get Galatian Gentile Christians to accept circumcision as a necessary way of establishing their membership in the "holy nation" that now they too understood to include ethnic Gentiles as well as ethnic Jews. The argument is focused on circumcision, but the basic issue is how holiness is constituted or accomplished to unite Jews and Gentiles into one holy nation/people. Paul says that God designed Israel's unique vocation to be an interim, with the Mosaic law as Israel's pedagogue until the time that God chose to accomplish the vocation's broader work through Christ (Gal 3:21-26). Hence, Christ does not so much "replace" the law as complete the vocation which it defined. What is clear, however, is that of the three functions of law from Deuteronomy mentioned in the introduction (to establish the relation between Israel and God that already existed; to describe how the covenant people are to interact; to keep Israel distinct from the nations), it is the last that Paul argues against most strenuously. If Gentiles are now brought into God's workings, the law's task of keeping Jews separate from Gentiles must be over. For the Galatians to accept circumcision as necessary for salvation or sanctification symbolizes misunderstanding and even rejection of God's providential work. It moves the clock back to the old job description of holiness that was indeed uniquely Israel's, because, as Paul says, that would involve the whole discipline of the law"the yoke of servitude" (Gal 5:1)which was never supposed

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to be for the nations and which has become superfluous. This is why Paul focuses on freedom. Galatians 3:28 makes the point that all of the old distinctions familiar in Graeco-Roman and Jewish polities are irrelevantin Christ there is neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, not male and female. Because of the democratizing gift of Spirit those old identity roles have no bearing on how the people of God in Christ share a holy life. All are equal in status and citizenship; through baptism into Christ they are made "children of God" (3:26-27). The agony caused by Paul's argument requires attention. Was Jewish identity now to be given up? That is what Greeks and Romans had been attempting to accomplish for centuries in policies toward the Jewswith circumcision being a particular target of their scorn and sometimes their overt persecution. For Jews, even Jewish Christians, to give up on this amounted to something far worse than capitulation to the Gentiles. It meant denying national autonomyAdentitythe claim grounded in "ancestral traditions" that could compete successfully with any the Greeks and Romans could claim. Paul's argument, though addressed to Galadan "converts," at least implied that the traditional Jewish vocation of holiness could go out of business, because God in Christ had given away the merchandise. Paul, indeed, adopts another tone on these matters in Romans, and it is evident his Jewish heritage was not considered valueless. I am not convinced he did or could resolve the basic question of Israel's identity as defined in the vocation of holiness constituted in Torah (as law, and not just as the narrative frame of promise; cf. Gal 4:21). On a pragmatic level, the early church itself found it necessary to relativize the harshness of Paul's argument in Galatians. For one thing, Jewish-Christian communities continued alongside Judaism and Gentile churches; those already Jews continued to affirm the traditional vocation of holiness, though now as reconstituted and refocused through Christ. The teaching of James and the focus on the Sermon of the Mount may reflect these realities.30 The more the church increased, however, the more it needed clear polity. "Law" could not be dispensed with; it either had to be reinvented as the law of Christ or it had to be exegetically recovered from parts of pentateuchal Torah. Maybe these are not really distinct options, but we do find Irenaeus using pentateuchal Law together with the Gospel mandate in arguing against gnostic antinomianism. For Irenaeus, the "perfect law offreedom"is the new Torah of Christ which, when it is taken abroad by apostolic missions, fulfills the promise of Isaiah 2 that God's Torah will go forth from Jerusalem to bring all nations under the umbrella of God's justice and compassion.31 Finally, it is just such a unified kingdom, though not necessarily one that rejects diversity, that much of the thought of the Hellenistic world tried to envision. One very common theme is "friendship"what Romans sought in becoming "friends of the emperor" is what Jews and Christians alike mean when they speak of being/becoming God's friends. They sought to be bound together as a human cohort in loving service of God. For Jews that is what it meant to accept the yoke of Torahto be joined with God in holinessand thus to remain free of the burden of worldly affairs and the imperialistic politics and intellectual coercion of Rome. Christians, too, sought such freedomin the yoke of Christ which they described as becoming "friends of God." Increasingly the Church saw itself

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as another community replacing or standing alongside Judaism as God's holy people. In that context grappling with law took on greater import. Important theological questions reverberate throughout this discussion of law and liberty. What is the relation of the liberty of the individual to the liberty and welfare of the state or community? Where is liberty sacrificed for love? Is there such a thing as Christian autonomy? How do we do justice to individuality and being bound to God in service? If the law's task of keeping Jews separate from the nations is over, does the law still function in some way to separate from the tyranny of worldliness? Is that task accomplished in the second function of the law to instruct covenant people how to interact? How can the Church be honest about its discussions of the need for law and of the importance of law without losing the focus on liberty in Christ? NOTES
1. Mishnah, Abot 3.5. Throughout this article translations of Hebrew texts are from the author; those from Greek and Latin texts are taken from the Loeb Classical Library. 2. Still unsurpassed is the broad historical overview of the classical traditions provided by Max Pohlenz, Freedom in Greek Life and Thought: The History of an Ideal, trans. Carl Lofmark (Dordrecht-Holland: D. Reidel, 1966). On 161-179 he discusses Paul's view of freedom. 3. Aristotle, Politics, .4.7; IV.6.1-S; VI.1.6-9; see also IV.4.2-7, which acknowledges the danger that democratic liberty, without the restraints of law, can deteriorate into anarchy or despotism (cf. similarly Cicero, Republic, 1.47). 4. For reflections on Spartan polity, among others see Aristotle, Politics, IV.7.1-6. 5. Western thought about liberty since the Enlightenment has diverged from the mainstream of ancient classical and biblical traditions, not only in emphasizing freedom of the individual as an "inalienable" right (i.e., one supposedly established and guaranteed in the order of nature) but by contrasting the exercise of such freedom with the real or implied threat of coercion by any external authority, lawful or not and whether human or ostensibly divine. It is instructive in this regard to review the manifesto of John Stuart Mill, On Liberty (18S9), which was shaped in significant measure as a response to overbearing ecclesiastical authority (Calvinist and Anglican as well as Roman Catholic), especially when such authority was exercised through the legislative and punitive instruments of the state. Mill's views drew inspiration from and extended the Athenian political model of democratic liberty. 6.The theme is developed through book one of Cicero's Laws {De legibus). Putative respect for ancestral traditions of custom and written law among diverse nations was an important topic in the often polemical interactions between both Jews and Christians and their cultured despisers in the Hellenistic world. It provides an opening for Josephus (ca. 100 CJE.), when he defends his account of Jewish antiquities against the scornful attacks of Apollonius Moln and other detractors; see Against Apion, especially 1.1-56,161-194; 2.145-150. Probably the most forceful argument levelled against the early church by the philosopher Celsus (later second century CE.) is that Christians not only show disrespect for Roman common law but got their start by rebelling even against what Celsus considers to be the relatively inferior and peculiar ancestral laws of the Jews. Origen's response, a generation or so later (ca. 250), vigorously defends the superior antiquity and content of the Mosaic Law, in comparison with the customary laws of other nations; he suso claims full Christian adherence to Mosaic law, though he emphasizes that its sense can now be correctly discerned with the inspired hindsight provided by Jesus' teachings and allegorical method. See Contra Celsum, especially 1.1; 2.1-2,5.25,43,65; 7.18,26. 7. Laws, 1.42. S.Laws, 11.10. 9. Laws, 11.19. Accordingly, Celsus later charges that Christians are guilty of a double violation of Roman polity by their refusal to participate in state-sponsored cults and their secretive and seditious worship of Jesus; see Contra Celsum, 1.1; 7.66; 8.12,24.

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10. On Roman foreign policy during the republican period, see . H. M. Jones, The Greek City from Alexander to Justinian (Oxford: Clarendon, 1940) 113-121. Cf. 1 Maccabees 8, which describes the political negotiations initiated by the Maccabean leadership of the Jews with Roman authorities, requesting "alliance and friendship"; this essentially involved gaining Rome's recognition of Jerusalem and Judea as a "free state," no longer subject to the heavy "yoke** of Seleucid rule. 11. Prudence, grounded in "fear of the Lord," is the foundational axiom of the biblical sapiential curriculum, with temperance, justice, and valor developed as its principal corollaries: e.g., compare Prov 1:2-7 with 2:6-15; 5:1-23; 22:22-29; 31:8-9, 10-31; and similarly, Sir 1:1-20 with 1:22-24" 6:2-4* 27:8-10 44:1-15. ' 12. E.g Prov 3: M , 13-18; 9:1-6; 11:19; 13:14; 14:27; 28:16; and Sir 4:11-19; 40:1827. The promise of "life" is also closely connected with observance of Torah: e.g., Deut 30:15-20 and Lev 18:5; cf. also Ps 119:93; Sir 15:11-20. 13. On Firmness, XK.2. Compare Epictetus, Discourses IV.I-1: "He is free who lives as he wills, who is subject neither to compulsion, nor hindrance, nor force, whose choices are unhampered.... " 14. On Providence, V.6; see also 1.5. Compare Epictetus, Discourses IV.7,120: "For I regard God's will as better than my will. I shall attach myself to Him as a servant and follower, my choice is one with His, in a word, my will is one with His will. Cf. also 1.9.17; 14.6; and IV.I.158,171-172,176. 15. Laws, 11.8; see also n. 8 above. 16. See Deut 32:1-43 (especially vv 4-6,15-18,21); Isa 10:5-19; Jer 2:4-13; Ezek 28:110; Ps 14:1-2. 17. On the essentially heteronomous character of biblical law and consequential traditions of Jewish ethics, see especially Emil L. Fackenheim, Quest for Past and Future: Essays in Jewish Theology (Bloomington: Indiana University, 1968) 204-228; and Eugene B. Borowitz, Exploring Jewish Ethics: Papers on Covenant Responsibility (Detroit: Wayne State University, 1990) especially 289-294. See also the works cited in n. 23 below. 18. In its development of this tradition, Deuteronomy prefers the designation "holy people" (7:6; 14:2; 26:19; 28:9), perhaps to make clearer a democratized understanding of communal holiness that suits its polity (cf. Ps 114:1-2; 135:4; Mai 3:17). In "priestly" pentateuchal tradition, on the other hand, the compound designation "priestly dominion and holy nation" of Exodus 19:6 was understood to legitimate an oligarchic polity, which assigned highest authority to the Aaronid priesthood. For the contrasting positions, albeit represented in narratives designed to establish the priestly perspective, see, e.g., Numbers 16-17. This inner-Israelite debate over the structural politics of "holiness" resembles the distinctive emphases on the meaning of "liberty" in the polities of Athens and Sparta. On the basic biblical terminology and themes of sacrality and sanctification, see now David P. Wright, "Holiness (Old Testament)" in David Noel Freedman, et al. (eds.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary, Vol. 3 (New York: Doubleday, 1992) 237-249. 19. On this, see S. Dean McBride, Jr., 'Transcendent Authority: The Role of Moses in Old Testament Traditions," Interp 44 (1990) 229-239. 20. The three-part scheme outlined here is suggested as a contextually sound and hermeneutically useful way of understanding the principal functions of the pentateuchal laws in relationship to the vocational identity of Israel that is also emphasized in the Pentateuch's narrative frame. These functions are complementary and overlapping, as are the corresponding categories of law. This proposal should not be confused with the taxonomy, already introduced in patristic sources, which attempts to classify pentateuchal laws under the separate headings "ceremonial, civil, moral," with the aim being to salvage as far as possible the third category for Christian ethical instruction (while supposing that Christ abrogated the first two). Much sounder, in my judgment, is the approach to pentateuchal law usually identified with Calvin (e.g., in his Institutes) but already sketched in part by Irenaeus (Adversus Haereses, especially 4.12-16) which maintains the essential coherence of law and gospel in the economy of God's gracious providence. Accordingly, the whole lawand not merely portions thereof, conveniently selected to authorize an ethical predispositioncontinues to play a necessary and positive role with the gospel in the formation of Christian conscience and the development of ethical praxis.

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21. Michael Walzer offers a provocative analysis of the Exodus drama, based in part on rabbinic traditions, which underscores the psychological trauma accompanying transition from slavery tofreedom:Exodus and Revolution (New York: Basic Books, 1985) especially 43-98. 22. The connection between God's character and Israel's social responsibility is well illustrated in Exod 22:21-27 [20-26]: the rules of righteousness in w . 21-26 120-25], which enjoin compassionate justice for marginalized members of Israelite society, are followed by the divine declaration "because I am gracious" (v. 27 [26]), which echoes God's superlative self-asseveration in Exod 34:6-7 (cf. Deut 4:31). I am indebted to my colleague James Luther Mays for the insightful designation "rules of righteousness," which he uses to fine effect in relating biblical traditions of law and prophecy: "Justice: Perspectives from the Prophetic Tradition," Interp 38 (1983) 5-17. 23. See especially Herbert Chaan Brichto, "The Hebrew Bible on Human Rights" in David Sidorsky (ed.), Essays on Human Rights: Contemporary Issues and Jewish Perspectives (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1979) 215-233. The issues are succinctly described in broader perspective by Robert M. Cover, 'Obligation: A Jewish Jurisprudence of the Social Order," Journal of Law and Religion 4 (1987) 65-74. 24. These, of course, are the "greatest commandments that epitomize the Mosaic Law in Matt 22:36-40; Mark 12:28-34; Luke 10:25-28. In Jewish liturgy they correspond to the complementarity of covenantal duties known as "the yoke of the kingdom of heaven" and "the yoke of the commandments"; see Mishnah Berakot. 22. 25. Most egregious in this respect is the Deuteronomic polity, which is otherwise so noteworthy for its liberal politics and proto-evangelical theology (cf. 4:5-8,32-40; 30:11-20; with, e.g., 7:1-6; 12:29-32; 18:9-14; 20:16-18). This correlation is not coincidental. In an effort to consolidate Israel in its traditional self-understanding as the holy people of God, Deut both encourages distribution of power and prosperity within the covenant community and attempts at the same time to erect solid barriers between Israel's membership and hostile forces (external and internal) which are supposed to threaten theo-political identity. This phenomenon characterizes the nativismi that is a familiar aspect of national "revitalization movements." 26. See 1 Mace 2:11; 10:33; 15:7; 2 Mace 2:22; 9:14-17. 27. Mishnah Pesabim 10.5. 28. See his Who Is the Heir, 124,272-273, and On the Confusion of Tongues, 93. 29. See Robert Jewett, "The Agitators and the Galatian Congregation, NTS, 17 (19701971), 198-212. 30. See Hans Dieter Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, ed. Adela Yarbro Collins (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995). 31. Adversus Haereses 4.34.4-5. Cf. Jas 1:25; 2:12.

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