Monday, June 15, 2020


We are at a time when all areas of life are progressing swiftly and speed becomes a mode of human life. People are rushing after the changing circumstances to make life more gratifying. In this process, the value of human-relations is often forgotten. How many lives are left alone when they are unwilling to forgive each other? While some may say that they forgave everything, but not ready to forget the painful experiences of the past and waiting for an opportunity to pay off it. They are leading a wretched life without experiencing the beauty and joy of this God given opportunity. The sad thing is that even the Christians who follow Christ, the embodiment of forgiveness, are not ready to forgive each other over petty things. Though they worship the same God and take part from the same bread and cup are reluctant to forgive one another for simple matters. The unforgiving character spoils the relation between husband and wife, parents and children, and even pastors and believers.

The New Testament has given more importance to forgiveness in Christian life.  The Lord has taught us to pray, "Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors" (Mt. 6:12). It implies that we are the one who decides the criteria of forgiveness of our sins by God. Jesus has given more priority to mutual relation in the ‘Sermon on the Mount’ discourse: “When you bring your gift to the altar and you remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconcile to your brother; then come and offer your gift”(Mat. 5:23-24). In his life Jesus set the best model of forgiveness before those who crucified him, praying, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing" (Lk. 23:34).  Lack of love is the key factor of unforgiveness in one’s life.  Apostle Paul says love is patient and keeps no records of wrongs (1Cor.13: 4f). He reminds us that be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you (Eph. 4:32). In other words, human forgiveness is possible only when we have really experienced God’s forgiveness. 

Once Peter asked to Jesus, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” (Mt.18:21). With little proud Peter himself made a suggestion of seven times to reveal the depth of his forgiveness. The rabbis of that time had taught one should forgive up to three times for the deliberate mistakes. Jesus' words that ‘your righteousness should exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees,’ too might have influenced Peter's proposal. Peter had done his math. Peter took the three, doubled it and added one more. Who could ask more than that? Moreover, seven is a perfect number. Hence, Peter thinks he is being generous and asked "Is it enough?" But Jesus’ reply, ‘not seven times, but seventy-seven times,’ had crossed all boundaries of Peter’s calculation. It also exposes the nothingness of Peter’s proposal. Jesus might have taken a reversed approach to Lamech's vengeance in the Old Testament. Lamech said, "If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold, then Lamech seven and seventyfold times" (Gen.4: 24-NIV). Jesus may have been asking here to overcome Lamech's vengeance with the same degree of patience. Indeed, Jesus is not referring to a number 490 with the expression of seven-seventy times but made it clear that there is no limit to forgiveness. It was a way of saying infinity. Furthermore, Jesus revealed the fact that when we forgive to someone 490 times, it becomes a part of our character and be able to forgive others unconditionally. Jesus was using the numbers to say don't put limits on your forgiveness because God has not put limits on forgiveness and mercy toward you.

Then Jesus shows the importance of unconditional forgiveness through the parable of a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants (Mt. 18: 23-35). A man who owed the king ten thousand talents was brought to him.  The servant fell on his knees and begged for mercy. The master took pity on him and cancelled the debt. But as he was returning, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii. He grabbed him and began to choke him without mercy. The fellow servant fell on his knees and begged him for more time to repay. But he refused it and put him in the prison until he could pay the debt. Upon hearing this, the king became angry and handed over the servant to the jailors to be tortured until he should pay back all he owed. 

It is shocking when one realizes the difference between the sums of these two servants’ debts. Often the exchange rate of talent varied in ancient times. However, one talent was roughly the equivalent to 15 years’ salary of a common man. So 10,000 talents is equivalent to 1,50000 years of pay. The first servant owed a large number that could never be paid in his lifetime. Yet his master forgave him. But his fellow servant owed only hundred silver coins which is a meager sum. One silver coin was the daily wage of an ordinary servant. If so, then the fellow servant owed only 100 days wages. But 10,000 talents were worth about 100 million pieces of silver. He who received such great forgiveness did not forgive or show mercy to his fellow servant.

To forgive others is not optional.  We forgive as we are forgiven.  If you hold onto anger, hatred, bitterness, whatever, the compassion of God hasn’t changed you, and your debt remains. When we don't forgive others, it brings about a bondage to our souls that could be compared to being enslaved by people or bound by a substance addiction. Often this unforgiveness causes a bitterness that claims us from the inside out. It causes unnecessary stress and mental tension. It locks in sorrow, anger and strife; it locks out joy, love and fellowship. This bitterness is a result of a proud spirit that seeks to keep score and gain revenge for perceived and real wrongs. If we refuse to release our offended feelings, they will eventually control us. We will be in bondage to them as well as in the bondage of sin before God. Jesus pronounces a severe warning here because forgiveness is the cornerstone of our relationship with God, and with others. Forgiveness is the most precious gift God has given to us and we share it with others so that they too will know the joy of having their debt wiped out. Forgiving others’ mistakes is not one's weakness but reveals one’s mature character. As our Father in heaven is merciful, so as we be merciful and forgive others from our heart...


Tuesday, June 9, 2020



    Jacques Derrida’s theoretical writings – always articulated through the reading of philosophical, literary, critical, political or intellectual texts – have given a unique character to the last third of the twentieth century, and particularly with respect to the development of postmodern thought. He is most commonly associated with the textual practice of deconstruction. With Derrida, philosophers, critics, and theorists have learned a whole new set of strategies for reading texts, for thinking the role and significance of texts, and for establishing how texts constitute the textures of the cotemporary critical and theoretical scene. He constantly upholds the need to understand the internal logic of a textual system by dint of close reading, respect for a text’s details and much patience.

A Biographical Sketch of Derrida

          Derrida was born to a Jewish family in El-Biar, near Algiers, in 1930. Algeria was a French colony and Derrida was expelled from secondary school in Algiers in 1942 by an official anti-Semitism implemented in the colony. Derrida resumed his education first in a Jewish school and later moved to France’s prestigious Ecole Normale Superieure in Paris. He finally qualified in 1956 and then, at height of Algerian war, did French military service between 1957 and 1959 as a teacher near Algiers, before returning to French academic life. Derrida is a founder-member of GREPH (the International Group for Research into Teaching of Philosophy) and later become the Director of Studies at the Ecole des Hautes en Sciences Sociales in Paris.[1] His philosophical work began with a study in the mid-1950s of the German philosopher Edmund Husserl, before he turned to detailed, painstaking close analyses of many of the canonical philosophers, from Plato to Martin Heidegger.

Major Works of Derrida

            In 1967 Derrida published three books—Speech and Phenomena: Introduction to the Sign in Husserl’s Phenomenology; Of Grammatology; and Writing and Difference—in which he introduces the deconstructive approach to reading texts. In 1968 he published “The Ends Of Man”. In 1972 he published three other notable works: Margins of Philosophy, Dissemination, and Positions. Another important work is The Post Card: From Socrates to Freud and Beyond (1980).  In 1993, he published Specters of Marx: The State of the Debt the Work of Mourning, and New International. The ever increasing need to address political and ethical issues pushed him to publish such works like, “The Other Heading” (1991), “The Force of the Law” (1992), and “The Politics of Friendship” (1994). 

Ideological Background of Derrida

Derrida’s writings have not appeared in a vacuum. They clearly arise out of at least three different intellectual traditions. They are phenomenology, structuralism, and psychoanalysis.

a) Phenomenology

 The phenomenological tradition which runs from Edmund Hussel to Heidegger which offers a philosophy of description, accounting of human experience, and the objects of that experience. Based on the premise that we can achieve a pure, transcendental, immanent description of our experience of things, offered in a rigorous and presuppositionless fashion, Husserl claims that the transcendental subject can reflect upon the contents of an experimental consciousness and achieve both necessary and apodictic knowledge of the meaning of what is experienced.[2] While this phenomenology was crucial for the existentialism and hermeneutics that followed in both Germany and France, it was the backdrop for the Algerian-born Derrida’s formative years as a student in Paris. He produced three books in which he takes up Husserl’ philosophy—his master’s thesis on The Problem of Genesis in Husserl’ Philosophy, his Introduction to Husserl’s Origin of Geometry, and Speech and Phenomena.

b) Structuralism

Structuralism is rooted in the semiology of Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure. Structuralism is an attempt to isolate the general structure of human activity. A structure is a unit composed of a few elements that are invariably found in the same relationship within the “activity” being described. The structure cannot be broken down into its single elements, for the unity of the structure is defined not so much by the substantive nature of the elements as by their relationship.[3]

Saussurean semiology, the general science of signs, was reinvented some thirty years later in 1940s by the structuralist anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss. Where Levi-Strauss sought to build connections anthropology and linguistic, he also wanted to show that elementary structures of kinship, of myth, of totems and taboos are not matters for primitive alone., but rather that they are fully distributed throughout different societies and cultures—by virtue of some specifiable transformations, they constitute different version of the same structure. But according to Derrida there is no centered self or subject located within or behind any of these versions of human structure. Structures repeat, recur in multiple context, but they have no centered transcendal subject.[4] This notion of self-decentering became a fundamental tenet of Derridean deconstruction.

c) Psychoanalysis

Psychoanalysis, spawned in the early twentieth century by another contemporary of Husserl and Saussure, namely Sigmund Freud, raises the question of the subject in terms of psychic realm of id, ego and superego. Here the centered subject is split—always the ever-present reality of repression and the inaccessibility of the unconscious life. This split marks a gap, a break, a screen, a mystic writing pad, which both separates and brings together the conscious and the unconscious. Memory traces are inscribed on this screen, traces of experiences which are in principle inaccessible to the conscious life. This place of difference between the conscious and unconscious is where the period of erasure leaves its mark or traces constituting of locus of Freudian analysis, a kind of performance of the “scene of writing.”[5]

 Derrida’s principal interest in Freud has been through his reading of his followers, most notably, Lacques Lacan. Lacan’s famous statement that “the unconscious is structured like a language” has allowed him to develop the idea that whatever can be called the unconscious is proliferated and disseminated through the chains of signifiers, words as they narrate a patient’s dreams or fears or interpersonal relations.      

 A Critique of Western Metaphysics

          Derrida follows Nietzsche and Heidegger in elaborating a critique of “western metaphysics.” Western thought says Derrida, has always been structured in terms of dichotomies or polarities: good vs. evil, being vs. nothingness, presence vs. absence, truth vs. error, identity vs. difference, mind vs. matter, man vs. women, soul vs. body life vs. death, nature v. culture, speech vs. writing.[6] These polar opposites do not, however, stand as independent and equal entities. The second term in each part is considered the negative, corrupt, undesirable version of the first, a fall away from it. Hence absence is the lack of presence, evil is the fall from good, error is a distortion of the truth, etc. In other words, the two terms are not simply opposed in their meaning, but are arranged in a hierarchical order which gives the first term priority, in both the temporal and qualitative sense of the word. Derrida holds a linguistic, idealistic view of the world: we have no access to past or even present reality, we are stuck in language, we have only signs which relay us to other signs, and on ad infinitum.[7]

Important Concepts and Methods of Derrida

a) Post-Structuralism

            ‘Structure, Sign, and Play’[8] marks the moment at which ‘post-structuralism’ as a movement begins, opposing itself to classical structuralism as well as traditional humanism and empiricism: the moment when ‘the structurality of structure had to begin to be thought.’[9] Classical Structuralism based on Saussure’s linguistic, held out the hope of achieving a ‘scientific’ account of culture by identifying the system that underlines the infinite manifestation of any form of cultural production. The structural anthropology of Claude Levi-Strauss tried to do this form for myth. But, says Derrida, all such analyses imply that they are based on some secure ground ‘centre’ or ‘transcendental signified’, that outside the system under investigation and guarantees its intelligibility.[10] There is, however, no such secure ground, according to Derrida—it is a philosophical fiction. He sees Levi-Strauss as making this disconcerting discovery in the course of his researches, and then retreating from a full recognition of its implication.[11] Levi-Strauss renounces the hope of totalizing scientific explanation of culture phenomena, but on equivocal grounds - sometimes because it is impossible (new data will always require modification of a systematic model) and sometimes because it is useless (discourse is a field not of finite meaning but of infinite play).

             Derrida himself had no qualms about embracing ‘a world of signs without fault, without truth and without origin, which is offered to our active interpretation’, and fathered a new school of criticism based on this –deconstruction, based on Derrida’s assertion that ‘language bears within itself the necessity of its own critique’.[12]

b) Deconstruction

        Deconstruction is not a form of textual vandalism designed to prove that meaning is impossible. The word “de-construction” is closely related not to the word “destruction” but the word “analysis,” which etymologically means “to undo”—a virtual synonym for “to de-construct.” The deconstruction of a text does not proceed by random doubt or generalized skepticism, but by the careful teasing out of warring forces signification within the text itself.[13] If anything is destroyed in a deconstructive reading, it is not meaning but the claim to unequivocal domination of one mode of signifying over other. This, of course, implies that a text signifies in more than one way, and to varying degree of explicitness. Sometimes the discrepancy is produced by a double-edged word, which serves as a hinge that both articulates and breaks open the explicit statement being made. Sometime it is engendered when the figurative level of a statement is at odds with the literal level. And sometimes it occurs when the so-called starting point of an argument is based on presuppositions that render its conclusion problematic or circular. Therefore, according to Derrida, “the reading must always aim at a certain relationship, unperceived by the writer, between what he commands and what he does not command of the patterns of the language that he uses. His relationship is not a certain quantitative distribution of shadow and light, of weakness or of force, but a signifying structure that the critical reading should produce.”[14]

     In other words, Deconstruction is a method of critical analysis which questions the ability of language to represent reality adequately, asserts that no text can have a fixed and stable meaning, and that readers must eradicate all philosophical or other assumptions when approaching a text. One of the recurring themes of the deconstructive system of Derrida is the deconstruction of the metaphysics of presence. He maintains that the idea of presence provides the support for a series of founding concepts or centers which have variously aspired to govern the western philosophical tradition:

“Successively, and in a regulated fashion, the centre receives different forms of names. The history of metaphysics, like the history of the west, is the history of these metaphors and metonymies. Its matrix … is the determination of Being as presence in all senses of this word. It could be shown that all the names related to fundamentals, to principles, or to the centre have always designated an invariable presence—essence, existence   substance, subject, truth, transcendentality, consciousness, God, man and so on.”[15]

Each of these centers hopes to rule over the system of thought by belonging to itself, in such a way that it remains spatially and temporally self-present and self-identical. Deconstruction begins by identifying the center of a system or the privileged term in a violent conceptual hierarchy, and represents an intervention to make that system or hierarchy tremble.

c) Difference and Meaning

           Derrida departs from the traditional philosophical, and everyday, view of language and reason as essentially unified and unifying forces. In his view, language and rationality operate on the basis of discontinuity. One way to understand Derrida’s view of meaning is see it as modification of Saussure’s theory of linguistic meaning. For Saussure, to be schematic in the extreme, linguistic meaning is produced by difference, by the interaction of opposite –the meaning of ‘night’ only having value in relation to ‘day’[16]. Derrida pushes at the logic of Saussure’s basic insight. For Derrida, meaning is indeed differential, but is produced by the interaction of a potentially limitless number of terms, not just by the difference between two. In other words, difference between words are not to be found in any one place, but are, rather, both scattered  across the network of language and bound up with the unique instance of articulation.[17] In order to arrive at a provisional understanding of a word, we rifle through our private mental, and shared cultural, archive of words, checking sounds and concepts against each other. Because we carry out this process so rapidly and so automatically, we forget that this play between the same and the different underlies all meaning. But meaning is not simply given in advance in the system of language; meaning is actively produced in the linguistic utterance which must draw on the system (the structure) but which will always produced singularities.

           In effect, Derrida challenges the conception of texts as having fixed centers of meaning. It also challenges the prioritizing of stable meanings and the sort of thinking e.g. that requires a locatable centre to a text; an idea, a philosophy or a religion - the sort of thinking that requires stability or that fears the unknown. Derrida argues that meaning is best understood in terms of the relationship (the play) between the known and the unknown, the presence and absence, the stable and the unstable. This is not anarchic: he doesn’t suggest that the unstable should take over from the stable. If that happened then this would merely create a new centre, another form of meaning based on stability. His argument is that the constant deferring of presence means that the centre is never fixed. Hence a single, fixed meaning can never be determined; it is constantly postponed and deferred.[18] 

d) Writing, Speech and Logocentrism

           From Plato through to Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Saussure, speech in the western tradition is assigned the values of spontaneity, immediacy, authenticity, originality, and self-presence. Writing, in contrast, is considered secondary, derivative, impersonal, the produce of technique, contrivance and machination. Speech is nature and writing artifice. Writing is that dangerous supplement that always threatens to carry my meaning off to a place where I will not be able to exercise control over it.[19]

 Derrida’s critique of the western metaphysics focuses also on the privileging of spoken word over the written word. The spoken word is given higher value because the speaker and the listener are both present in the utterance of simultaneously. There is no temporal or special distance between speaker, speech, and listener, since the speaker hears himself speak at the same moment the listener does. This immediacy seems to guarantee the notion that in the spoken word we know what we mean, mean what we say, say what we mean, and know what we have said. Whether or not perfect understanding always occurs in fact, this image of perfectly self-present meaning is, according to Derrida, the underlying ideal of Western culture.[20] Derrida has termed this belief in the self-presentation of meaning “Logocentrism,” from the Gk word Logos (meaning speech, logic, reason, the Word of God). Writing, on the other hand, is considered by the logocentric system to be only a representation of speech, a secondary substitute designated for use only when speaking is impossible. [21]  Writing is thus considered a second-rate activity that tries to overcome the distance by making use of it: the writer puts his thought on paper, distancing it from himself, transforming, it into something that can be read by someone far away, even after the writer’s death. This inclusion of the death, distance, and difference is thought to be a corruption of the self-presence of meaning, to open meaning up to all forms of adulteration which immediacy would have prevented.   

e) Ethics

Derrida is also a philosopher of ethics, on the concept of responsibility, which is tied to the idea of the aporia. Aporia (from the Greek) designates a difficult, impracticable, or indeed impossible, passage, the experience of a non-passage. Its English translation “undecidablility”, does not fully explain its force. Derrida uses the word aporia to name the point in argumentation where one appears to arrive at the place of contradiction or paradox from which no simple exit is possible.[22] In The Gift of Death he attempts to disturb the Kantian foundation of ethics at the heart of which lies the notion of the absolute duty or responsibility, formalized as universal law, which all citizens have to respect and to which they must respond. For Derrida, aporia on the one hand, a responsible decision can only be taken in the light of knowledge; on the other hand, if decision-making amounts merely to following a body of knowledge given in advance, then it is irresponsible.[23] In other words, responsibility demands that one be responsible (follow the guidance offered by knowledge) and irresponsible (not always follow that guidelines) at the same time.           

 Derrida illustrates the paradox of responsibility by drawing on and developing Kierkegaard’s discussion of the biblical story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac. Without giving him any reason, God commands Abraham to sacrifice his only son on the Mount Mariah, staying his hand only at the last minute. It is the most extreme, most abominable instance of the obedience to the absolute duty. And yet, Derrida says, it is also the most and everyday experience of responsibility. In order for any human society to maintain itself along ethical lines, each individual must recognize and respect the alterity of another individual: I must be responsible in the face of the other as other and answer for what I do before him or her. That is my duty and obligation to the other. Such a duty might not prove difficult to fulfill if there were just one other. But there are an infinite number of others, to whom I am in principle bound to specific other, I neglect the other others. I sacrifice them. At the precise moment that I dedicate all my care and compassion, all my physical and emotional energy to another, I betray all other others. This paradoxical condition does not just affect a situation in the real world, as it is called; it affects thinking itself:

“The concepts of responsibility, of decision, or of duty, are contaminated a priori to paradox, scandal, and aporia. Paradox, scandal, and aporia are themselves nothing other than sacrifice, the revelation of conceptual thinking at its limit, at its death and finitude. As soon as I enter into a relation with other … I know that I can respond only by sacrificing ethics, that is, by sacrificing whatever obliges me to also respond, in the same way, in the same instant, to all the other … I don’t need to raise my knife over my son on Mount Moriah for that. Day and night, at every instant, on all the Mount Moriahs of this world, I am doing that, raising my knife over what I love and must love, over those to whom I owe absolute fidelity, incommensurably.”[24]

f) Truth

            The question of truth, the question of women, the question of style all are interrelated here in a reading of Nietzsche’s famous statement that “truth is a women.”[25] Heidegger’s account of truth as aletheia is that this Greek word (a-LETHE-ia, where Lethe was the mythical river of forgetfulness) means not-hiddenness, non-concealedness, and disclosure. Derrida reads this notion of truth as a metaphor for woman’s genitalia, disclosing and hiding or concealing. He contrasts the vaginal; with the penal; (the long oblong object, like a pen, writing instrument, stylus). The stylus is associated with style, with writing, while the vaginal is associated with truth, with openness, with dis-closure. The word “truth” in German (die wahrheit), French (la verite), Italian (la verita), Spanish (la verdad) etc. is feminine.[26] Truth is female. Style is male. Writing the truth happens with style and with question of truth.

g) Borders

        All of Derrida’s work takes place on and at the border. For Derrida, what is outside the text is marked by what is inside the text, and what is outside the text is inscribed by its exclusion in the text. The text would have no status without the question of the border, margin, edge of the text which has no status without the opposition between the inside and outside.[27] Derrida’s practice of reading tries, rather, to demonstrate that, in their etymological or philosophical origins, and in their historical development and contemporary resonance, words and concepts disturb oppositional reasoning, spilling over into each other to form a knotted fabric of associations.

 Such a fabric can be seen in the analysis of metaphor in ‘White Mythology: Metaphor in the Text of Philosophy’ in his Margins of Philosophy. The question of metaphor, Derrida says, derives from a theory of value, according to which things are equated each other on the basis of their resemblance or similarity.[28] Because, in the Greek tradition, the sun is the source of light and life which produces the essence of what is, the sun is also what make resemblance possible, it is the ‘non-metaphorical prime mover of metaphor’, around which and towards which everything turns. Thus the ‘flowers of rhetoric’ are tuned towards the sun as natural origin, source of truth and philosophical logic. But since we can never know what is proper to the sun,, that is, since we can never see or touch the sun properly, so the sensory object par excellence, the sun, paradoxically becomes the paradigm both of sensory (or literal truth of nature) and of metaphor (or tropes[means to turn]) since it turns itself and hide itself. If metaphor is heliotrope, then, it is so inasmuch as it designates both a movement towards the sun (as the source of truth) and the turning movement of the sun (which henceforth cannot act as the stable origin of the system). Western metaphysics attempts to reduce this play of metaphor by having metaphor, like sun, return full circle to itself without loss of meaning. This specular circle is shared by the trajectory of the sun, by metaphysics and western concept of Man. Thus, if the sun rises in the east, it reaches its completion in the west and in the eye of Western Man. In other words, for Derrida, metaphysics is an attempt to interiorize and master the metaphorical division between the origin and itself, the Oriental difference (that is metaphysics is white mythology). And yet, the heliotrope can always become a dried flower in a book, that is, a figure of excess that endlessly displaces the book’s closure. Moreover, heliotrope, Derrida writes in the final sentence, is also the name of a precious stone—a kind of oriental jasper.[29]

Evaluation and Conclusion

        The criticism leveled at him by Jurgen Habermas is that, despite his engagement with enlightenment philosophy, Derrida follows Nietzsche’s lead in seeking to overturn the age-old privilege accorded by philosophy to logic over rhetoric. By dissolving all of the foundation stones of intersubjective communicative rationality, Derrida’s work finds its home firmly in the relativist tradition which extends directly, from the Nietzsche to French postmodernists.[30] Steven Plaut calls Derrida as the father of the pseudo-philosophy of “Deconstructionism” and a philosopher who has contributed to human confusion rather than to enlightenment[31]. John R. Searle critics Derrida for his lack of seriousness and unwillingness to respect the traditional and commonly accepted coinage of the debate on linguistic communication.[32] Hans G. Gadamer argues similarly that the success of philosophical dialogue depends on the willingness of interlocutors to allow a text to say what it means in a gesture of mutual understanding.[33]    

Apart from the influence on the contemporaries like Roland Barthes and on a younger generation of philosophers (most notably Jean-Luc Nancy), Derrida’s influence in France has been limited. Elsewhere, Derrida’s work has been hugely influential on cotemporary critical theory. Derrida’s work on the ‘white mythology’ of Western metaphysics has been taken up by, and to certain extent helped to open up, the field of postcolonial studies and race theory –notably in the work of Homi Bhabha and Henry Louis Gates. 


It is difficult to assess at this stage whether such a dispersal is salubrious or deleterious, but what is evident is the fact that deconstruction has spread all over as a deductively desired commodity which is bought more for its appeal than for its consumption, more for its exchange value than for its use value.

       End Notes

[1] A Sharman, “Jacques Derrida” in Contemporary Critical Theorists, J. Simons (ed), (Edinburgh: EU, 2004), 86.

 [2] Hugh J Silvermon, ‘Jaques Derrida” in Postmodernism:  The Key Figures, H. Bertens and J. Natoli,(eds),  (USA: Blackwel, 2002), 11I.

[3] J. Derrida, Of Grammatology, Translated by G. C. Spivak, (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Pub., 1994), Iv.

[4] Silvermon, ‘Jaques Derrida”…, 112.

[5] Silvermon, ‘Jaques Derrida” …, 114.

 [6] J. Derrida, Dissemination, Translated by B. Johnson, (London: The Athlone Press, 1981), viii.

[7] J. Derrida, Dissemin …, viii.

[8] A paper presented at the Johns Hopkins University in a conference entitled ‘The Language of Criticism and the Science of Man in 1966.

[9] J Derrida, “Structure, Sign and Play in the Discourse of the Human Science” in Modern Criticism and Theory, D. Lodge and N. Wood (eds) (Delhi: Pearson Education, 2003), 88.

[10] Derrida, “Structure, Sign …, 88.

[11]Derrida, “Structure, Sign …, 88.

[12] Derrida, “Structure, Sign …, 89.

[13] Derrida, Of Grammatol  ..., 158.

[14] Derrida, Of Gram ..., 158.

[15] J. Derrida, Writing and Difference, translated by Alan Bass (London: Routlledge and Kegan Paul, 1978), 189-90.

[16] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida”…, 88.

[17] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida”…, 88.

[18]Derrida, Writing and …, 20.

[19] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida”…, 91.

[20] Derrida, Dissemi…, viii

[21] Derrida, Dissemi…, viii – ix.

[22] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida”…, 93.

[23] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida”…, 94.

[24] J. Derrida, The Gift of Death, Translated by David Wills, (Chicago: University Press, 1995), 68.

[25] Silverman, “Jacques Derrida” …, 114.

[26] Silverman, “Jacques Derrida” …, 115.

[27] J. Derrida, “Living On. Border Lines” in Deconstruction and Criticism, H. Bloom et al (New York: Continuim, 1999), 18.

[28] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida” …, 95.

[29] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida” …, 95-96.

[30] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida” …, 97.

[31] FrontPage magazine. Com,  The Deconstruction of Jacques Derrida by Steven Plaut. htm

[32] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida” …, 97.

[33] Sharman, “Jacques Derrida” …, 97.


Derrida, J. Of Grammatology. Trans. by G. C. Spivak. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Pub., 1994.

Derrida, J. Dissemination. Trans. by B. Johnson. London: The Athlone Press, 1981.

Derrida, J. Politics of Friendship. Trans. by G. Collins. London: Verso, 1997.

Derrida, J. Structure, Sign and Play in the Discourse of the Human Science” in Modern

              Criticism and Theory. Ed. by D. Lodge and N. Wood. Delhi: Pearson Education, 2003.

Derrida, J. “Living On. Border Lines” in Deconstruction and Criticism. Ed. by H. Bloom et al.

             New York: Continuim, 1999.

Derrida, J. Writing and Difference. Trans. by Alan Bass. London: Routlledge and K Paul, 1978.

Derrida, J. The Gift of Death. Trans. by David Wills. Chicago: University Press, 1995.

Harr, Michel. “The Play of Nietzsche in Derrida” in Derrida: A Crtical Reader. Ed. by David

             Wood. UK: Black well, 1992.

Plaut, Steven. “The Deconstruction of Jacques Derrida” in  FrontPage magazine. Com. Htm.

Sharman, A. “Jacques Derrida” in Contemporary Critical Theorists. Ed. by. J. Simons.

             Edinburgh: EU Press, 2004.

Silvermon, H. J. “Jaques Derrida” in Postmodernism:  The Key Figures. Ed. by H. Bertens and

             J. Natoli.  USA: Blackwel, 2002.

Wolfreys, Jullian. Deconstruction. Derrida. Moudon: Macmillan, 1998.

Monday, June 8, 2020



            1 Corinthians provides the most detailed example within the Pauline corpus of the way in which Paul applied his theological convictions to the practical issues facing the church. 1 Corinthians 1:10 begins the body of Paul’s letter and introduces, which runs from 1 Corinthians 1:10 to 6:20. This section contains Paul’s responses to the issues which he has heard about from “Chloe’s people” (1 Cor 1:11) and from other oral reports (1 Cor 5:1; cf. 16:15–18). In this first major section Paul also attempts to clear up the Corinthians’ misunderstanding of his earlier correspondence (1 Cor 5:9, 11). Beginning with 1 Corinthians 7:1, Paul turns his attention to the issues concerning which the Corinthians have recently written to Paul for clarification of his views and their implications. Paul’s treatment of these matters constitutes the second major section of the letter, which extends to 1 Corinthians 16:12. 

Issue on Leadership

In the first place, Paul deals with the causes of and the solution to the dissension and rivalry that has developed between some of the Corinthians based on their loyalty to various Christian leaders, including Paul himself (1 Cor 1:10–12). According to S. J. Hafemann the root of the problem was the Corinthian addiction to the power, prestige and pride represented in the Hellenistic rhetorical tradition, with its emphasis on the glory of human wisdom and attainment and its corresponding flagrant and flamboyant lifestyle.[1] B. Witherington also points out that self-promotion ran through every level of society: ‘Self-promotion had become an art form … People … lived within an honour–shame orientation. Corinth was a magnet for the socially ambitious … status-hungry people.’[2]  It is this Hellenistic “wisdom of the word” (1 Cor 1:17, 20, 26; 2:1; 3:19) that Paul combats by calling attention to the contrary “wisdom” and “power” of God as manifested first in the cross of Christ (1 Cor 1:18–25), then in the calling of the Corinthians themselves (1 Cor 1:26–31), and finally in the intentional nature of Paul’s own ministry and apostolic way of life (1 Cor 2:1–5; 4:1–13).

Yet since “the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing” (1 Cor 1:18; cf. 2:14), only those whose hearts have been transformed by the work of the Spirit will be able to accept the true wisdom and power of God as revealed in the gospel (1 Cor 1:20–24; 2:6–16). Paul therefore warns the Corinthians that their boasting in themselves and in their various spiritual leaders is a dangerous sign that the Spirit is not prevailing in their lives, since they are acting like those who are still “natural” or “unspiritual” (1 Cor 2:14–3:4). Should such an attitude and its behaviour continue, they too will thus find themselves under the judgment of God, who will destroy the wisdom of this world and all those who work to destroy the church as the temple of the Spirit, built on the foundation of the cross of Christ (1 Cor 1:19–20; 3:10–23). The Corinthians must consequently repent of their boasting, recognize that everything they have is a gift, and follow in the pattern of their own apostle, whose life of weakness and suffering manifests both the power of the kingdom of God and the reality of the cross (1 Cor 1:31; 2:3–5; 4:6–13, 14–21).

 On one side Paul guards against too high a view of those who serve as apostles or ministers. He asks, ‘What is Apollos? What is Paul?’ and answers, ‘Servants, through whom you came to faith’ (3:5). It is God, not ministers, who gives life and growth to the church (3:6). On the other side Paul equally rejects too low a view of ministers. They provide conditions (‘planting and watering’) through which God chooses to give growth (3:6–9a). Theirs is a shared ministry: although each has a distinctive task, under God they are fellow-workers (v. 9a) and are ‘one’ (v. 8a). They ‘build up’ the Christian community together, and the Day of Judgment will disclose whether their work has been solid, or ‘fire-proof’ (3:12–15).

 Apostleship, too, points away from the apostle’s own person to that to which the apostle bears witness, namely the crucified and raised Lord Christ. E. A. Castelli has argued that Paul’s call to imitate him as a model (1 Cor. 4:16; 11:1) functions as a bid for power.[3] However, a different view, from Chrysostom and Calvin to J. A. Crafton urges that apostleship points away from the agent to that to which he bears witness. ‘While an agent calls attention to himself, an agency gives itself wholly to the task … and therefore points all attention away from itself’.[4] The context of 11:1 confirms this. It is precisely concern for the other, not for the self, on which the mimeµsis of Paul and especially of Christ consists. 9:1–23 is not a ‘defense of apostleship’, but an integral part of the argument of 8:1–11:1 which calls believers to forgo their ‘rights’ for the sake of ‘the other’. Apostles need to be witnesses of the resurrection (15:3–11) because apostolicity points away from the self to witness to Christ as crucified and resurrected.

Issue on Exercising the Apostolic Authority

 Another issue in which Paul responds by exercising his own authority with the cooperation and consent of the Corinthian church. He disciplines the man who is living with his father’s wife with excommunication for the sake of his ultimate restoration (1 Cor 5:3–5). Paul then proceeds to make it clear that one’s new position in and worship of Christ demand a corresponding purity and separation, not from the world, but within the world (1 Cor 5:6–13), since “the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God” (1 Cor 6:9).[5]

Issue on Going to Secular Court

 In the midst of this discussion, Paul addresses the fact that the Corinthian are taking their disputes to the secular courts for arbitration. The issue of taking a fellow-believer to law most probably presupposes a social situation in which local civil magistrates could readily be influenced by networks of patronage, or the socially ‘strong’. Hence the ethical issue in 6:1–11 turns not on going to law as such, but more probably on manipulation on the part of the socially ‘strong’ to exploit more vulnerable fellow-believers.[6] Here too the Corinthians’ spirituality ought to equip them to express God’s wisdom, rather than allowing them to capitulate to the world, especially when they are being equipped as God’s people to share in God’s ultimate judgment of the world (1 Cor 6:1–6). And in the event that no settlement can be reached, those who are spiritual ought to be willing and able to suffer wrong unjustly for the sake of Christ (1 Cor 6:7–8).

Issue on Morality and Freedom 

In the 6th chapter Paul deals how to use Christian freedom in practical life. In 6:12 contains a quotation from Corinth: ‘I have the right to do anything – I am no longer under the law as a new creation.’ Paul does not deny the ‘freedom’ of the gospel outright, but he seriously qualifies and redefines what such freedom entails. It is precisely not ‘autonomy’, freedom to choose what I want to do. Paul first explains that indulgent freedom begins to exercise ‘rights over me.’ One clear limit-situation is that of a sexual relation with a prostitute. This is incompatible with the very union with Christ which allegedly provided the supposed ground for ‘freedom’ (6:16–17). There is no ‘autonomy’ for the purchased slave of Christ (6:20). Christ has the care of the believer’s conduct in the public domain: the believer is no longer his or her own master. Freedom is always to be qualified in the light of what promotes the gospel (9:19–23) and what serves the well-being of the other (8:2–13; 10:23–11:1; 13:1–13).

Issue on Marriage and Celibacy

In 1 Corinthians 7:1–40 Paul discusses the issue of marriage and celibacy. Here he is mindful of the tensions and anxieties caused by living in an evil age between the first and second comings of Christ (1 Cor 7:25–35), and of the God-given physical and emotional needs and desires of his people (1 Cor 7:1–5, 36–38). The basis of Paul’s instruction is once again the determinative role that the calling and gifting of God play in one’s life (cf. 1 Cor 7:15, 17–24 with 1:26–31). And here again, though Paul himself prefers being single as the way of life most suited to serving God (cf. 1 Cor 7:8, 32–34, 38), the goal is to live, whether married, widowed or single, in the kind of devotion to the Lord that corresponds to God’s work in one’s life and reflects God’s character (cf. 1 Cor 7:19–20, 35).

 Some Scholars relate chapter 7 to Stoic-Cynic views of what is ‘beneficial’ in a given context. A. C. Wire argues from a feminist perspective that Paul seeks to restrict the power and freedom of women by placing them in the private domain of the home.[7] This does not cohere well, however, with Paul’s acceptance of women’s role in proclamation or ‘prophecy’ (11:5). According to Witherington, here ‘Paul’s attempt to reform the patriarchal approach to marriage and singleness.’[8] While Rosner underlines the major point that in line with OT traditions Paul gives priority both to ‘contentment in one’s life-situation’ and to a positive view of the physical order as part of ‘the goodness of creation.’[9]

Issue on Eating Food Offered to the Idols

In 1 Corinthians 8:1–11:1 Paul confronts the problems that have arisen due to the fact that the more knowledgeable within the church are eating food which has been sacrificed in a pagan temple. These individuals have come to understand that idols do not actually exist (1 Cor 8:4–6). But their behaviour has become a stumbling block for those who do not yet share this understanding, defiling their weaker consciences and destroying their faith (1 Cor 8:7, 9, 11–12). The translation and meaning of Gk. syneideµsis remains controversial. Does it mean ‘conscience’ or ‘self-awareness? According to Gardner ‘those “weak in their conscience” were people who … felt insecure … Their weakness was not in moral decision-making [but] weakness in self-awareness.’[10] Paul considers such disregard for the disposition of others, based on one’s own rights and knowledge, to be a sin not only against them but against Christ himself. Those who truly know God and are known by him will employ their freedom and knowledge for the sake of building up others in their faith, even when this entails denying one’s own legitimate rights as a believer (1 Cor 8:1–3; 13). This is the “love that builds up,” rather than knowledge alone, which merely “makes one arrogant” (1 Cor 8:1).

 To support his point Paul illustrates this principle of love by pointing to his own decision to support himself financially while in Corinth (1 Cor 9:1–27). Although the Corinthians accepted Paul as an apostle (1 Cor 9:1–2), others criticized him for not exercising his legitimate apostolic right to financial support (1 Cor 9:3–14;) even when this meant much undue hardship and suffering on Paul’s part (cf. 1 Cor 4:11–13). Paul’s answer is that he has given up his rights as an apostle for the sake of the progress of the gospel and for the reward God has promised for such acts of love (1 Cor 9:15–18). Paul thus makes himself “a slave to all, that [he] might win the more” (1 Cor 9:19) even though he is free to do as it is appropriate in Christ. This is the training in love that all must engage in, who, like Paul, are called to persevere in self-control in order to pursue the prize of the gospel (1 Cor 9:23–27).

 In chapter ten Paul goes on to warn the Corinthians of what will happen if they too fail to persevere in love, and misuse their knowledge and experience as an excuse for continual immorality and evil (cf. 1 Cor 10:11–12). Like Israel in the wilderness, they will be destroyed (1 Cor 10:1–10). Indeed, God has provided a way of escape from overwhelming temptation, so that there is no excuse for not enduring in the love that is produced by genuine faith (1 Cor 10:13). As an example of this Paul gives theological parameters and practical advice for dealing with the temptation to partake of food offered to idols. This temptation was common among the Corinthians in general, for whom it was a common social practice to eat in the precincts of a pagan temple.[11] But Paul warns of the inherent spiritual dangers, arguing that even if an idol is “nothing,” those who partook of food offered to idols were partaking of the table of demons (1 Cor 10:14–30). Finally, Paul returns once again to his own apostolic lifestyle of not seeking his own advantage but living to please others for Christ’s sake (1 Cor 10:31–32). Here too this is an example for the Corinthians themselves, calling them once more to be “imitators” of him, as he is of Christ (1 Cor 11:1; cf. 4:16;).

Issue on the Lord Supper

        Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians 11:17-32 was directed against wrong practices that developed in the Corinthian church. The basic problem appears to have arisen out of tensions in the church between the poor and the rich. Theissen points out that the richer members came early and ate and drank copiously before the arrival of the poorer members who would have brought much scantier fare with them.[12] This ideal picture of the Lord’s Supper was rather badly disfigured by the misdemeanours occurring in Corinth. This social scandal, according to Paul, made it impossible for a true Lord’s Supper to take place (11:20). Paul interprets such behaviour as a violation of the very essence of the institution of the Lord’s Supper (11:27). The intent of the salvatory Christ event—which is captured in the “for you” in the saying over the bread, and the notion of covenant in the saying over the cup—are thereby perverted. Here Paul develops the theological significance of the Supper on the basis of the tradition. He emphasizes that the “many” who share in the one loaf at the supper are “one body” in virtue of doing so. Paul sees that those who share in the blood and the body of Jesus are thereby brought into a unity with one another where social distinctions cannot be allowed to exist

Issue on ‘Head Covering’ in Worship

Another issue that Paul deals in this section is that the relationship between men and women in worship as expressed in the cultural practice of women wearing veils (1 Cor 11:2–16). Modern interpreters have often fastened on the single word head (Gk kephaleµ) and debated what Paul meant when he called the husband the wife’s “head.” Some scholars have argued that the term means “authority” or “boss”; the Hebrew for “head” (roµ<sû) could mean this, and occasionally kephaleµ means this in the Septuagint. Other scholars have disputed this meaning, noting that the translators usually bent over backward to avoid translating the Hebrew roµ<sû with the Greek term kephaleµ; kephaleµ does not normally mean “authority” or “boss” in Greek. These latter scholars often argue for the meaning “source,” which it does mean in some texts. Scholars favoring the “authority” meaning, however, respond that “source” is an even rarer meaning of kephaleµ in the Septuagint than “authority.” Both groups of scholars are undoubtedly right in what they affirm but may fall short in what they deny; the term sometimes means “source” and sometimes means “authority,” at least in “Jewish Greek” influenced by the rhythms of the Septuagint[13]

The question is what sense should be attributed to the term in 1 Corinthians 11:3? According to Keener Paul engages the issues with which his congregation is struggling, including gender issues from the culture. He also upholds the importance of the Christian family and church unity; further, while providing arguments for propriety of dress to keep the church unified, he seeks to persuade the woman who hears his letter read in the church to keep these arguments in mind without questioning her right to dress as she will (1 Cor 11:10), a far cry from stronger arguments elsewhere in the letter (1 Cor 4:18–5:5; 11:29–34). Perhaps most significant for our discussion, however, is what he omits: Paul nowhere in this text subordinates the woman, failing even to touch on that issue. While Aline Roselle’s research on the Roman world, reveals that in Roman society ‘one sees only the face’ of women. She further says that, who are ‘respectable’; that is, ‘A veil or hood constituted a warning: it signified that the wearer was a respectable woman’ who was not to be approached by men.[14]

Issue on Exercising Spiritual Gifts

Paul’s first reference to the Spirit of God in this epistle occurs in the context of a need for divine disclosure: ‘God revealed these things to us through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches out everything, even the depths of God’s own self’ (Gkta batheµ tou theou, 2:10). Paul takes pains to explain that this is no mere immanent spirit which animates the world in a Stoic sense, but ‘the Spirit who issues from God’ (Gk. to pneuma to ek tou theou, 2:12). The gift of the Spirit entails ceasing to live ‘on an entirely human level’ (2:14). Indeed the Corinthian self-congratulatory claim to be ‘people of the Spirit’ (3:1) is invalidated by their involvement in ‘jealousy and strife’ and ‘behaving like any merely human person’ (Gk. sarkikoi, 3:3). The Christian community is corporately the holy shrine of God among whom ‘the Spirit of God dwells’ (3:16). Similarly the Spirit indwells the individual ‘body’ i.e. our public, everyday life (6:19).

The opening of 12:1–14:40 on the agency of the Holy Spirit in prompting the confession ‘Jesus is Lord’ (12:3) is fundamental. The gifts of the Spirit serve diverse means for a single end: to make visible the lordship of Jesus Christ as crucified and raised, and to build up the whole community. Since all gifts come from the same Spirit, these should not manifest self-contradiction (in time or place), or serve mere self-affirmation. ‘Different apportioning of gifts “serve” the same Spirit … the same Lord … the same God’ (12:4–6). Paul clearly places these gifts in a ‘Trinitarian’ frame: they are not even to bring ‘the Spirit’ into prominence, but to serve God in Christ through the Spirit. The criterion of authenticity is the ‘common advantage’ (Gk. to sympheron), not of an elite group but of all believers (12:7). Hence gifts which relate to speech (prophetic speech, tongue-speaking) must constitute intelligible communicative events or else should be reserved for a context outside public worship (14:13–17). An unintelligible utterance in a tongue is addressed not to fellow-believers but to God (14:1; cf. Rom. 8:26). There is no evidence in 12:1–14:40 that Paul regarded speaking in tongues as a kind of coded message to the congregation. Presumably its ‘building’ or ‘common advantage’ when tongues were put into plain speech (14:13) consisted in their facilitating a depth of corporate praise or prayer prompted by a heart welling up with deep yearnings, passion or visionary insight.

 In a public context utterance must be articulated, i.e. involve mental reflection (14:14–21). Strange sounds put other believers in the position of feeling like outsiders rather than ‘at home’, as if tongues gave a sign of their status as unbelievers, like Israel exiled under judgment (14:22). By contrast prophetic speech may include straightforward proclamation or preaching. It can convict and convert the outsider (14:24–25), just as it can build up the believing community by comfort or exhortation, or encouragement (14:3–4).

Issue on Resurrection

Having begun by grounding his opening section in the cross of Christ (cf. 1 Cor 1:18–25), Paul now concludes his application of theological truths to practical problems by dealing in 1 Corinthians 15:1–58 with the surety and nature of the future resurrection in view of the resurrection of Christ. Paul first calls attention in 1 Corinthians 15:1–5 to the death and resurrection of Christ as the centre point of the gospel, which Paul had received as the common tradition of the church and then passed on to the Corinthians as the basis of their salvation. This is the earliest account we have of the contours of the early Christian message and its historical evidence. Paul then supplements this evidence with the recital of Christ’s further resurrection appearances. He concludes with his own experience of the resurrected Christ and its consequences for his life as the “least of the apostles” (1 Cor 15:9–11).

 In turning his attention to the Corinthians, Paul draws out a threefold significance from the fact of Christ’s resurrection. First, no one can conclude that there is no resurrection from the dead (1 Cor 15:12–19, 29–34). Second, Christ’s resurrection is the “first fruits” of what will happen to all “in Christ” at his second coming when God’s “final enemy” death is destroyed and all authorities are put back under subjection to the reign of God. Hence, contrary to the Corinthians’ belief that they were already experiencing the fullness of the resurrection age to come in their own current life of the Spirit (i.e., their “over-realized eschatology”), the final resurrection is by no means merely an experience of spiritual power and gifting in the present (1 Cor 15:20–28). Rather, it is a qualitatively different bodily existence which can only be gained through the granting of a new, resurrected and spiritual body (1 Cor 15:35–56). Third, believers now live “between” the two resurrections, Christ’s and their own. They live in the midst of an age which is still evil, but which can be endured and overcome by the sure confidence that Christ’s resurrection experience and victory over death as the “last Adam” will be shared by them because they are “in Christ” (1 Cor 15:42–54). The practical implication of this hope is that the believer is encouraged to “be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labour is not in vain” (1 Cor 15:58).

    In short, Paul's pastoral mind is visible in this letter through his exhortation that the believers to work for unity and the benefits of others but not for selfish gain. The letter as a whole, he emphasizes the importance of love in ministry and practical life.   


End Notes

[1] S.J. Hafemann, “Letter to Corinthians,” in Dictionary of Paul & his Letters, Edited by G.F.Hawthorne,  R.P.Martin, and Daniel.G.R, (England: Intervarsity Press, 1998),164.

[2] B.Witherington, Conflict and Community,(1995), cited by A. C. Thiselton, “Letter to the Corinthians” in New Dictionary of Biblical Theology, Edited by A.T. Desmond and B. S. Rosner, (Downers Grove, Ill: Intervarsity Press, 2000), 298.

 [3] E. A. Castelli, Imitating Paul (1991) Cited by Thiselton, Op cit., 298.  

[4] J. A. Crafton, The Agency of the Apostle (1991), ibid, 299.

[5]Hafemann, Op. cit., 165.

[6] Thiselton, Op cit., 299.    

[7] A. C. Wire, The Corinthian Women Prophets,(1990), cited by  Thiselton, Op cit., 299.    

[8] Witherington, ibid,300.

[9] B. S. Rosner, Paul, Scripture and Ethics: A Study of 1 Cor. 5–7 (1994), ibid.,300.

[10]P. D. Gardner, The Gifts of God and the Authentication of a Christian, (1994), cited by Thiselton, Op cit.300.

[11] Hafemann, Op. cit, 166.

[12] Theissen, The Social Setting of Pauline Christianity: Essays on Corinth (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1982O), 91

[13] C. S. Keener, “Man and Women” in  Dictionary of Paul & his Letters, Edited by G.F.Hawthorne,  R.P.Martin, and Daniel.G.R, (England: Intervarsity Press, 1998),585-86.

[14] A. Rouselle, “Body politics in ancient Rome” (1992), cited by Thiselton, Op cit, 302.


Barrett, C.K. The First Epistle to the Corinthians. New York: Harper & Row, 1968.

Dunn, J D G. Theology of Apostle Paul. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974.

Fitzmyer, J A. “Pauline Theology.” in NJBC. Edited by R E Brown. Bangalore: TPI, 2004.

Hafemann, S.J. “Letter to Corinthians.” in Dictionary of Paul & his Letter. Edited by G.F.Hawthorne.  R.P.Martin and Daniel.G.R. England: Intervarsity Press, 1998.

Keener, C.S. “Man and Women.” in  Dictionary of Paul & his Letters. Edited by G.F.Hawthorne. R.P.Martin and Daniel.G.R.England: Intervarsity Press, 1998.

--------. Paul, Women & Wives: Marriage & Women’s Ministry in the Letters of Paul. M.A: Hendrickson, 1992.

Marshall, I.M. “Lord Supper.” in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters. Edited by G.F.Hawthorne. R.P.Martin. and Daniel.G.R. England: Intervarsity Press, 1998.

Meeks, W.A. The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul. New Haven: Yale Univ, 1983.

Theissen, G. The Social Setting of Pauline Christianity: Essays on Corinth. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1982.

Thiselton, A.C. “Letter to the Corinthians.” in New Dictionary of Biblical Theology. Edited by A.T. Desmond and B. S. Rosner. Downers Grove, Ill: Intervarsity Press, 2000.


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