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In: Religion, Language and the Human Mind,
edited by Paul Chilton and Monika Kopytowska (forthcoming Oxford University Press, New York, 2017)
CHAPTER 12
Metaphor in Religious Transformation:
‘Circumcision of the Heart’ in Paul of Tarsus
1
Ralph Bisschops
ABSTRACT
Interpreting sacred notions of the Hebrew Bible in a non-literal or figurative sense was part of the
hermeneutical manoeuvres of Early Christian writers. They proceeded by deliteralization and
metaphorization. These are meta-linguistic speech acts by which a word appearing in a given religious or
doctrinal corpus and which usually is understood in its literal sense receives a non-literal meaning. Paul’s
notion of the “circumcision of the heart” which is intimately linked to that of the “inner Jew” (Romans 2:
28-29) was an attempt to internalise Jewish law-abidingness whilst abolishing its initial dignity. What
exactly happens on a cognitive linguistic level in such instances? Drawing upon Fauconnier and Turner’s
Cognitive Integration Model the author develops a two-phase model at work behind Paul’s
metaphorizations. First the initial values (Jewishness and ritual circumcision) are projected onto a newly
created target, namely inwardness. In a second move (retro-projection) the original value is abolished. This
process can be termed a value-shift, in contradistinction to similar and precedential instances (cf.
Deuteronomy, Jeremiah and Philo of Alexandria) which should be seen as value-extensions, the source
value being preserved and merely extended to other realms of action. Corollaries of value-shift and value-
extension are duty-shift and duty-extension, since values also imply duties.
From a socio-religious perspective metaphorization goes along with a widening of the religious community.
In the last resort, however, it reveals itself to be a moment in the genesis of new philosophical concepts,
such as inwardness as the locus of redemption.
Key words: metaphor, value, duty, value-extension, value-shift, St. Paul, Cognitive Integration model,
internalisation, metaphorization, Christianity, Judaism.
The author: Ralph Bisschops (Ph.D. 1992, Vrije Universiteit Brussel) is research associate at the Philosophy
Department of the Vrije Universiteit Brussel (VUB) and retired staff member of the Brussels Education Center.
He was also visiting professor at the University of Duisburg (Germany) and research associate at the University
of Ghent. He is the author of a book on metaphorical language and ethics (Die Metapher als Wertsetzung, 1994)
and together with James Francis he edited the volume Metaphor, Canon and Community - Jewish, Christian and
Islamic Approaches (1999). He has published about hundred articles, essays and reviews on theory of metaphor,
biblical exegesis, Judaism, literary criticism and philosophy. He is also widely noticed for his pioneering historical
investigations on Samuel Holdheim and Sigismund Stern, the figureheads of Classical German Reform Judaism
of the 19th Century.
Religious movements do not emerge out of nothing. They tend to be born out of a previous
religion and are the result of a theological re-shaping. Religious renewers incorporate the main
notions and symbols of the mother religion into their doctrine. They need these ancestral
notions to articulate their vision. Metaphoric speech and thinking, therefore, may connect the
1
I must express my huge gratitude to all scholars who helped me in this interdisciplinary undertaking: Professor
Paul Chilton, who, as the editor of the present volume, supervised my paper with greatest care and challenging
questions, Professor René Dirven (Duisburg University), Rev. Professor James Francis (Sunderland University),
Professor Jean Pierre Van Noppen (Université Libre de Bruxelles), Professor Matthew Thiessen (Saint Louis
University), Rabbi Mark Neiger M.A. (Leo Baeck College/King’s College London), Rabbi Abraham Dahan
(Brussels).
2
old with the new. In the present chapter I devote my attention to the gospel of St. Paul (Paul of
Tarsus), who created, albeit roughly, the initial conceptual framework of Christianity.
Early Christianity was a faith highly dependent on Jewish lore. In Paul’s time there were no
Christian gospels; hence a genuinely Christian text-based hermeneutic was not possible. The
Hebrew Scriptures (and the Septuagint, their Greek translation) were the only sacred texts Paul
and his fellow Christians could refer to. Paul, the apostle to the gentiles and a declared
universalist, had to rely on his Jewish text-based tradition. His own cognitive instruments were
the semantically highly dense words of the Hebrew Scriptures. He used these ancestral notions
to voice things “which no eye has seen and no ear heard”
2
and introduced ideas which
subsequently would become core concepts in Christian ethics and metaphysics.
Metaphor, analogy and allegorical reading were the tools Paul used to create a new domain
of religious devotion,
3
namely inwardness and spirituality, which were the cornerstones of his
universalist, that is to say cross-ethnic,
4
outreach. I will confine myself to Paul’s circumcision-
metaphor in Romans (2:28-29) which is highly representative for Paul’s metaphorical use of
terms belonging to the Jewish canon. I have chosen this passage because it has far reaching
metaphysical and ethical implications. What is its semantic and cognitive mechanism? Can the
insight in this mechanism be helpful in the ongoing exegetical debates?
1.1 Metaphor in religious discourse
Religious metaphorpresents some difficulties which demand a specific approach. Source, target
and mapping present characteristics which are typically displayed in religious discourse. In
some cases the target domain is God, who is not only unknown to us but whose ontological
nature differs fundamentally from things accessible to our empirical experience. This problem
was already discussed at length in Scholasticism (Thomas Aquinas, Cajetan) and triggered a
great many investigations of God-talk, also called ‘theography’, particularly since 1960, from
various religious viewpoints. In 1981 Jean-Pierre van Noppen (Brussels) coined the term
‘theolinguistics’
5
delineating a separate sub-discipline of linguistics devoted to the study of
religious language.
6
Since 2000 the interest for Theolinguistics has shifted to Poland
7
and
Germany
8
. Recently the thread has been picked up by Sweetser & DesCamp (2014) in the USA,
this time from the viewpoint of Cognitive Linguistics, which, postulating the experiential
grounding of metaphor, has difficulties acknowledging the gap between human experience and
the ineffable divine transcendence. Sweester and Descamp (2014: 18) write “(…) ‘good’ or
appropriate metaphors for the Divine-human relationship certainly express power differential,
and that power differential (at least) is understood as ‘true’ of God” However, from a
theological viewpoint, transcendence cannot be reduced to this-worldly (e.g. “embodied”)
2
1Cor 2: 9. Note on the translations: generally I used the King James Version, which comes very close to the
original text. In some cases I amended the extant translation to obtain a more precise rendering.
3
I refrain from using the word “religious experience” because so-called religious experiences rarely conflict with
the theological framework of those affected by this experience (See Bisschops 2003, 114). Our beliefs shape that
what we call our religious ‘experience’.
4
Barclay (1998, 556) rightly remarks that “multi-ethnic” is a more appropriate term. The notion of “universalism”
is underdetermined. Recent scholarship insists on the Jewish “self-apartness from the nations” (Dunn 2008: 380),
which Paul is believed to have resisted. Actually, all peoples at that time maintained their “self-apartness.”
5
See van Noppen: Theolinguistics I (1981) and Theolinguistics II (1983). Van Noppen’s approach is presented in
a concise way in his paper Christian Theographic Metaphors, Ordinary Words with Extraordinary Meanings
(1999). See also above Crystal, chapter 1.
6
Among the many scholars who have worked on Theolinguistics the following names might be mentioned: Jean-
Pierre van Noppen, Wim De Pater, Eberhard Jüngel, Sallie McFague, Janet Martin Soskice, Anna Wierzbicka and
David Crystal.
7
See Mikolajczak, Stanislaw & Malgorzata, Rybka, 2014.
8
See the book series Theolinguistica published by Bauer & Raspe.
3
notions such as power differential. Van Noppen and earlier generations were sharply aware of
the inadequacy of human language, experiences and concepts to grasp the Divine, as were
earlier scholars familiar with the Thomist tradition. Aquinas addressed this issue with
unsurpassable clarity and a delicious touch of sarcasm (Summa Theologiae, art. 1, quest.9). To
him it would be much better to use totally inappropriate metaphors for God, instead of beautiful
images, in order not to incite the mind to idolatry. Attractive metaphors, Thomas argued, do
not prompt the mind to go beyond the image (i.e. “source domain imagery”). Van Noppen
(1999, 106) writes: “ (…) if our theographic utterances convey any knowledge or report any
experience of the divine, they can only refer to the believed or perceived aspect(s) of the total
reality, while part of the divine ‘mystery’ and transcendence remains beyond expression.”
To sum up: in Cognitive Linguistics the target domain (here: God) is viewed as capable of
being conceptualised via a physical source domain, while the theological tradition (Aquinas,
van Noppen) teaches that the transcendent divine can never be conceptualised in its entirety.
Cognitive linguistics only investigate the way the mind conceptualises experiences de facto;
theologians also want to assess whether these conceptualisations are appropriate. That does not
only hold for theology: there will always be a tension between the cognitive and the epistemic
approach.
Also with respect to the cognitive source religious metaphors have some peculiarities. In some
religious metaphors, the source lies in the domain of the holy and the sacred, notions which are
extremely difficult to understand in themselves. Here frame semantics may be relevant. In the
Jewish and early Christian scriptures semantic and cultural frames
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of ‘holiness’ can be clearly
perceived and delineated, whereas the domain of Holiness itself lies beyond human knowledge
and experience. The frames of ‘holiness’ pertain to religious ritual, consecrated things and
required states for participating individuals (such as purity, e.g. for the service of the Temple,
or being circumcised, e.g. to be allowed to take part in the Seder of Passover). Metaphors
borrowed from the service of the Temple in Jerusalem evoke such a frame.
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The present
investigation is about that kind of metaphor, i.e. metaphors whose source belong to the frame
of the sacred (Temple, ritual) and which, by virtue of their provenance, are bearers of treasured
values, since they are marked by the seal of the consecration to God.
It should be stressed right at the outset that in Judaism, the sacred and the profane are radically
different domains which may not interfere with one another. As to the biblical notion of the
Holy itself, an outline has been worked out by Israel Efros (1964), who states that the holy (ha-
kodesh) is intimately interwoven with God’s transcendence, in contrast to God’s ‘glory’ (ha-
kavod) which denotes His presence in this world. The Hebrew word for ‘holy’, kadosh, is
rooted in the verb le’kadesh, which means ‘to set apart’. Hence, holiness can refer to two
notions: (1) God’s transcendence, that is to say the idea that God stands apart from his creation,
and (2) the consecration of all things which are used or performed in His service. It is worth
emphasising that all things which are consecrated to the Divine service can no longer be used
for profane purposes.
1.2 The value-ascribing function of metaphor
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The term ‘frame’ is used here in the following sense: “Frames are (…) tightly linked chunks of conceptual
structure which get evoked together. (…) Typically, complex frames have roles, and relations between those roles”
(Dancygier and Sweetser, 2014: 18). A very comprehensive development of frame-semantics with respect to
metaphor has been elaborated by Sullivan (2013)
10
Robert von Thaden’s chapter on Saint Paul (2014: 104) illustrates the usefulness of the notion of ‘frame’ when
dealing with the Jewish priestly world.
4
We can discern many functions of metaphor: descriptive,
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explanatory, category-creating,
heuristic, etc. An underestimated function which, however, matters much in religious discourse
is the value-ascribing one. This function consists in assigning a positive or negative value (or
even a set of positive or negative values) to the target – for example: our finances are healthy,
the leader of this rogue state is a new Hitler. By appealing to values cherished by the audience
or non-values abhorred by it, the speaker can influence decision-making processes, behaviours
and attitudes.
Seen from this angle, Lakoff’s notion of metaphor as understanding one domain of
experience via another,
12
should also be seen as evaluating one domain of experience via
another. Indeed, one of Lakoff’s well known examples of evaluative understanding involves a
mapping of a financial frame onto a highly abstract target domain: TIME IS MONEY (Lakoff and
Johnson 1980: 8). Lakoff and Johnson have also sought to outline the system of metaphors
underlying morality concepts (Lakoff and Johnson Metaphors We Live By (2003, 250); 999: 292-
331), and it is on this specific area of cognition that I wish to focus.
Lakoff and Johnson see value-ascription (a term they do not use) in terms of
conceptualisation. In their investigation on the language of morality they observe that the
notion of well-being is ‘conceptualised’ in terms of wealth or financial transactions (Lakoff
and Johnson 1999: 292). In this context, it is interesting to note that the source of morality (e.g.
‘well-being’ in Lakoff & Johnson) should not necessarily be ‘moral’ in itself. It’s a value, but
not a moral one. This being said, it is all the more important to note that well-being is not the
only source of morality articulated via metaphors. The frames of Ritual and Holiness also
convey moral values, without necessarily having any bearing on morality themselves.
1.3 Value, holiness and words referring to sacred things
Let us pause a while on the notion of ‘holiness’. In this frame ‘holiness’ is a tremendous force.
Moreover the ‘Holy’, albeit a supreme value, is not a mere moral notion: touching the Ark of
the Covenant can be lethal, even if it is motivated by the best intentions.
As the ark was being transported, the oxen pulling the cart stumbled, and a Levite named
Uzzah took hold of the ark. God’s anger burned against Uzzah and He struck him down and
he died.
(2 Samuel 6: 1-7).
Holiness transcends well-being, yet it is one of the most central values of the Hebrew Bible.
By the same token, ritual ‘purity’, which is the condition sine qua non for participating in the
cult of the Temple, is not a moral one. A menstruating woman or a woman after childbirth is
impure, although she cannot possibly be accused of immorality. A priest who touches her, even
inadvertently, becomes impure too. He may not, among other things, partake in the priestly
meals, although he is not necessarily in a state of moral deficiency or sinfulness (see also
Klawans 2006: 54).
The world of religious life, more than any other, contains many sacred, and consequently
value-laden notions, such as ‘priesthood’, ‘offering’, ‘purity’, ‘temple’ and ‘circumcision’,
which would provide a strong value to the target if used as metaphors. Impressive Pauline
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i.e. the description of the target with respect to appearance, condition, constitution, etc., e.g.: ‘The door-keeper
of the Tropical-Bar is a gorilla’. In ‘terrorism is the cancer of civilisation’, the metaphor focuses on the way
terrorism spreads (destroying from the inside via uncontrollable dissemination) and pretends to explain why it is
so difficult to defeat it. The descriptive function of metaphor has received much attention following Hofstadter
and Sander (2013), who focus on the heuristic function of metaphor and analogy in the elaboration of categories.
12
For instance the experience of love: “The metaphor involves understanding one domain of experience, love, in
terms of a very different domain of experience, journeys.” (Lakoff 1993: 206)
5
metaphors of this type are: The body is a Temple of the Holy Spirit (1Cor 6, 19)
13
and “The
body is the Temple of the living God” (2 Cor 6, 16-17).
14
Source, target and mapping are easily
discernible here: The body is a dwelling place of God, as is the Temple of Jerusalem. This
metaphor also has a descriptive and heuristic function: it sketches (in a philosophically
inarticulate way) the ontological nature of the human body. However, we cannot overlook the
fact that in Paul’s time, the Temple of Jerusalem, being most intimately associated with
holiness, was the most central value in Israelite life. Paul bestows this value on the body of
each individual. Incidentally, this metaphor also has strong ethical entailments with respect to
sexual behaviour (1Cor 6, 18). In the same way as the Temple can be defiled, debauchery
defiles the human body. It is crucial to note that statements about values also (or mostly) imply
statements about duties. In Paul’s case, the metaphor the body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit
implies the duty of sexual restriction.
To be sure, value-laden sources for metaphors do not only appear in religious contexts. In
all cases they convey their value to the target (see below). In some cases mapping and
correspondences are just pretexts for bringing a source in the neighbourhood of the target, so
that the source can project the values it embodies onto it (see Bisschops 1994: 118). It is
important to note that the ascription of a value is an additional operation, once the mapping has
been completed. In the case of metaphors operating through deliteralisation of sacred notions,
the target comes to be ‘hallowed’ by its source.
1.4 Metaphor as deliteralisation of a sacred notion
1.4.1 Deliteralisation
Within the corpus of religious figures of speech a separate category should be singled out on
the basis of their specific performance, namely deliteralisation (of course, these semantic
processes are not specific to religious discourse: they also appear in other genres, but in religion
their impact is highly decisive). Deliteralisation is a semantic process by which a word
appearing in a given religious or doctrinal corpus, and usually understood in its literal sense,
receives a non-literal meaning and a new referent, which under certain circumstances might be
called ‘target’ (as in the case of metaphor). Christian readers might be particularly familiar
with deliteralisations. One would immediately think of Matthew (15: 10-11): “Not that what
goes into the mouth defiles the man, but what is going forth out of the mouth, this defiles the
man.” This verse can be understood as the deliteralisation and subsequent redefinition of the
Israelite notion of ritual impurity. Ritual impurity becomes moral impurity.
15
This, at least, is
the way in which most readers unfamiliar with the polysemic Hebrew notion of impurity
(tumah), would see it.
1.4.2 Deliteralisation of a sacred notion as a metaphor
In order to analyse the sometimes revolutionary performance of deliteralisation as a metaphor,
let us consider the following verse of Isaiah:
Is it such a fast that I have chosen? A day for a man to afflict his soul? [...] Is not this rather
the fast that I have chosen? To loose the chains of wickedness, to undo the bands of the yoke,
and to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share thy bread with
13
“What? Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you (…)?” (1Cor 6, 19).
14
“For ye are the Temple of the Living God (…)” (2Cor 6, 16).
15
In fact, the Hebrew word for impurity (tumah) has both meanings: ritual and moral impurity. Jesus’ saying can
also be interpreted as a word-play with homonymy conveying an ethical message.
6
the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? When thou seest the
naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thy own flesh?
(Isaiah, 58, 5-7)
For the sake of clarity I shall oversimplify this passage, rephrasing it as CHARITY IS FASTING. .
Isaiah’s statement is unmistakably a metaphor. There is a source (fasting), a target (charity).
Both belong to radically different frames (holy vs. profane) and there is a mapping: sacrificing
well-being to God can be mapped to giving wealth to the poor, the nexus between well-being
and wealth being amply documented by Lakoff & Johnson (1999: 331) for metaphors in the
field of ethics. We may call this figure a metaphor through deliteralisation of a sacred notion
(fasting). Metaphors of this kind are often employed to challenge existing socio-religious
values or to shift away from them. The fasting-metaphor caused a religious and socio-cultural
earthquake whose consequences we still experience today. Isaiah’s metaphor broke down the
wall between the holy and the profane, and social empathy is endowed with the tremendous
weight and gravity of holiness.
There is more, however: the ritual constraint of fasting on the Day of Atonement is projected
upon our relationship with the needy and the oppressed. It becomes our sacred duty to help
them. Within the biblical context this metaphor sparked a revolution with consequences
reaching all the way to Christian charity, socialism, communism, social-democracy, and many
other socio-cultural developments. Some of these movements are secular or even atheistic.
Even if the source of holiness has faded away, its radiancy can still be felt.
1.4.3 Value/duty extension versus value/duty shift
If we follow Isaiah literally, fasting should be abrogated. Instead, we should help the poor and
free the oppressed. It is important to note that rabbinical authorities would never accept such a
reading and state that “a verse cannot depart from its plain meaning”.
16
According to this meta-
linguistic ruling, Isaiah’s verse can only be understood as the extension of the original meaning,
and hence of the duties it implies, not as a shift. If we accept this restriction, Isaiah’s statement
would mean that our obligation towards the underprivileged are at least as important as the
ritual duty of fasting, without however advocating the abandonment of the latter. I would like
to call this interpretation a ‘duty extension’, which of course is also a ‘value extension’.
In his Dialogue with Trypho (chapter 15) the Christian apologist Justin Martyr (100 – 165
CE) quotes Isaiah’s verses, leaving, however, no doubt about the fact that he champions the
abrogation of fasting, if this could make us more sensitive to the needs of the underprivileged.
He introduces them with the following words: “Learn to keep the true fast of the Lord (…)”.
Justin’s stance is indicated by the modifier ‘true’. ‘True’ fasting means helping the oppressed,
which, by the same token, implies that ritual fasting is ‘untrue’ and, hence, worthless. In this
sense we are facing a value- and duty-shift.
This phenomenon can also be called an ‘inversion’ of values. Two evaluative processes are
at work here: (a) the valuation of the target (charity) via the source (the sacred notion of the
fast) and (b) the devaluation of the source itself. Such a dual-phased metaphorical process,
departing from a classical theory of metaphor based on Source Domain and Target Domain
correspondences, is difficult to comprehend. Fauconnier and Turner’s Conceptual Integration
Network Model (Fauconnier and Turner 1998), some implications of which have become an
indispensable complement for the study of metaphor, might be more useful in such cases. In
the Conceptual Integration Model there is no direct projection/mapping from source to target.
16
“R. Kahana said: ‘By the time I was eighteen years old I had studied the whole Shas, yet I did not know that a
verse cannot depart from its plain meaning until today.’ What does he inform us? That a man should study and
subsequently understand”, Sabbath, 63 a. (Talmud Babli).
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Source input and target input are (selectively) projected into the blending-space, which
processes the information. Then the processed information is reprojected
17
onto the target and
even to the source. Many things can happen in the blending-space: in the present case it is (1)
the transformation of a ritual obligation into a social one, (2) the identification of man’s
partnership with God with that with his fellow beings, and (3) the inversion of the positive
source-value into a negative one (‘fast is good’ into ‘fast is bad’).
18
This kind of reading would
account for metaphors functioning as the tools of religious change. We now turn to the
metaphor that is the focus of the present chapter, a metaphor, which like the fasting metaphor,
also draws upon ritual practice for its source domain.
2 Paul’s heart circumcision metaphor: the questions
In Romans 2, 28 we find:
For he is not a Jew, which is one outwardly; neither is that circumcision which is
outward in the flesh. (Romans 2, 28)
This is a clear case of a metaphorical expression, although it confronts us with the following
problem: here "circumcision" is apparently intended to denote an inward process. We may call
it a target, but this target is created by the metaphor itself, which also contains an existential
statement (“there is something like…” etc.). It is like a blank screen on which experiential
elements and cultural assumptions can be projected. Is there any mapping? For the time being,
there cannot be any correspondences, since the target is not known. Nonetheless, it seems Paul
had both a target and correspondences in mind. Although the target cannot easily be identified
and the mapping will be difficult to process by the reader, there still are an intended target,
presumed correspondences, and intended mapping. John Barclay (1998: 52) rightly observes
that in this case “the metaphorical sense is allowed to efface the significance of the
circumcision of the flesh”. However, that is only one part of the cognitive process triggered by
the metaphor. As we shall see, Paul’s circumcision metaphor also effects a duty shift. The duty
of physical circumcision is not only abrogated, it is also superseded by a similar duty, which
can only be fulfilled in the realm of inwardness.
This raises the following further question: Which duties are shifted towards the target (i.e.
inward circumcision)? The answer depends on our knowledge of the source. This knowledge
not only includes information about the physical aspect of circumcision, but also about the way
it has been perceived in Paul’s time, about the religious legislations and folk theories
surrounding it.
Thus, investigating Paul’s metaphor presents us with the following particular issues:
(1) Historical and religious context of the source: What was the religious and cultural
significance of the source (i. e. circumcision) in Paul’s time and in his own thinking?
(2) Precedents. Historical precedents sometimes motivate the choice of a metaphor and can
shed light on its meaning.
19
What are the precedents for Paul’s metaphor in the Hebrew
Bible? To what extent are they relevant for the reading of the metaphor under investigation?
Does Paul refer to pre-existing (e.g. emblematic) notions of the source or does he deviate
from them?
(3) Target analysis. What is the intended target, metonymically represented by the notion
‘heart’?
17
On ‘reprojection’ or ‘projection backwards’ see: Fauconnier and Turner (2002: 44).
18
In this analysis I base myself on Fauconnier 2005.
19
The methodological importance of interpreting metaphors in the light of their historical precedents has been
stressed by Friedrich Keller-Bauer (1984), Van Noppen (1988 and 1999) and Ralph Bisschops (1994).
8
(4) Metaphorological analysis. Is there a mapping? Which features of the source are mapped
onto the target? What is the impact of religious dogma or creed on this mapping-process?
(5) Entailments. What are the theological, ethical and philosophical entailments of Paul’s
metaphor? These are the considerations that we shall bear in mind in investigating Paul’s
circumcision metaphor. Before analysing it in detail, it is essential, given the importance of
cultural and historical context in this case, to look closely at that context’s major relevant
dimensions.
3. Historical and exegetical context
3.1 The broad context
3.1.1 Paul of Tarsus (3-67 CE)
Paul was a contemporary of Jesus and his epistles to Christian communities are the first extant
written testimonies of the origins of Christianity. He stands at the heart of the transition from
Judaism to Christianity. Paul, a Hellenised Jew, was religiously trained in the tradition of the
Pharisees, who were the forerunners of Rabbinical Judaism. Initially he fought the Christian
movement emerging among Jews, but after he experienced a sudden revelation
(‘Christophany’), he underwent a profound transformation and became a believer of Christ. In
Jerusalem, he joined Peter and James, who restricted their own mission to evangelizing the
Jews. Paul took upon himself the spreading of Christianity among the gentiles throughout the
Mediterranean. In the synoptic gospels, written from 70 CE onwards, Paul’s firm belief in the
universality of the Christian message is less adamantly expressed.
3.1.2 Circumcision in Judaism
Although circumcision was generally practised by the Near-Eastern peoples, including the
Egyptians, it was nonetheless strongly associated with Jewish identity in the Mediterranean
world. The Hebrew Bible enjoins circumcision on the eight day after an infant’s birth (there is
no female circumcision/excision). According to biblical chronology, it is the first law recorded
and was enjoined to Abraham and his descendants (it is also the last custom a Jew will ever
abandon, even today). Until the rabbinical rulings on this matter (2nd Century CE), which are
recorded in the Talmud, there are no extant documents on the ritual accompanying the removal
of the foreskin. As to the surgical details, we have, for pre-Talmudic times, to rely on the book
of Jubilees (15:33), which stipulates that the entire foreskin is to be removed (Hebr.: periah).
Possibly, it is with regard to this ruling that the prophet Jeremiah qualified the neighbouring
peoples as ‘uncircumcised’ (Hebr.: arel),
20
even though they too practised some kind of
circumcision.
Circumcision is generally seen as the sign of Abraham’s covenant with God, but this view
seems to be of a later date (5th Century BCE, priestly document). Men who wish to convert to
Judaism are expected to undergo circumcision. This does not imply that circumcision
automatically confers Jewish identity.
21
Whether conversion was regarded as possible by other
Jewish traditions than the Rabbinical one is still heavily debated.
22
Some people tend to think that circumcision has been motivated by hygienic concerns, others
maintain that the practice of circumcision was believed to increase the fertility of the boy
23
.
The ritual status of circumcision however is undeniable and clearly attested in Exodus 12:10
20
See Richard C. Steiner, “Incomplete Circumcision in Egypt and Edom: Jeremiah (9:24–25) in Light of Josephus
and Jonckheere,” JBL 118.3 (1999): 497–526.
21
This has convincingly been shown by Matthew Thiessen in Contesting Conversions, 2011.
22
See Matthew Thiessen (2011) and (2014, 373-391).
23
See Hoffman, 39.
9
and Ex. 12:43-48. Being circumcised is a prerequisite to eat from the Pascal lamb on the
evening of Passover.
24
The foreigners (Hebr.: gerim) and the slaves should undergo
circumcision before partaking in the Passover-meal.
These are the basics of the situation in which Paul’s metaphor emerged and did its work.
But to understand the role of contextual features in the pragmatic functioning of the metaphor
in the short and in the long terms, it is important to investigate some of the finer details.
3.1.3 The Target Group of Evangelisation
Paul’s letters are permeated with Jewish lore and replete with references to the Hebrew Bible.
For a gentile unfamiliar with the Hebrew Bible and Israelite religious practice, they would have
been totally incomprehensible. Historical investigation, however, teaches us that in Roman
antiquity there was a relatively great number of gentiles who felt attracted by Judaism and who
practised Jewish rituals. We may, as most other scholars do, assume that they formed the initial
target group of evangelisation. It can also be presumed that these Judaising gentiles attended
synagogue services and received their religious initiation from Jews.
3.2 The debate about Paul and Judaism
The most obvious dependency of Paul’s writings on Jewish lore (the Gospels were not yet
written in his day) has preoccupied nearly all students of Paul and is also relevant for the present
investigation. The details of these debates cannot be comprehensively discussed in this study.
I restrict myself here to summing up the four main hypotheses in this problématique. They all
gravitate around the issue whether, in Paul’s mind, Christianity should be included into Judaism
or not.
3.2.1 The Exclusivist Answer
The Anti-Judaic hypothesis is that Paul did away with Judaism, claiming that a new era had
begun where Jews and gentiles stand on an equal footing before God, and in which Torah-
obedience has become obsolete once and for all with Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. This
summarises the classical, anti-Jewish (if not anti-Semitic) Christian and particularly Lutheran
and Calvinist reading. Many of Paul’s sayings can be adduced to underscore this approach
(such as 1 Thessalonians 2: 14-16).
There is, however also a hypothesis which I would like to call the Judaic hypothesis and
which states that Paul remained a faithful Jew throughout his life, teaching that born Jews
should abide by the Torah but that gentiles should gladly embrace the tremendous opportunity
of salvation brought by Jesus. One of the most visible representatives of this view is Pamela
Eisenbaum (2009), whose contention is that, according to Paul, Jews should remain Jews, and
that gentiles should embrace the message of Christ without becoming Jews:
Torah thus was God’s answer for how humanity could be in relationship with God. Since
gentiles could not follow it, God had to find an extrasystemic means of incorporating
gentiles into God’s family. That extrasystemic means was Jesus Christ.
(Eisenbaum 2004:240)
Closely related to Eisenbaum’s hypothesis is Lionel Windsor’s assumption that Israel is not
the new (Christian) Church. Israel, however, is the recipient of the divine vocation to
communicate the gospel to non-Jews (Windsor 2014: 45). Paul was a declared Jew, but he did
24
According to David A. Bernat (2009: 69) Ex. 12 :10 is more foundational for circumcision than the covenant-
idea.
10
not expect his communities to become Jewish. He only insisted on his Jewish identity to justify
his apostolic ministry (ibid. : 55).
3.2.2 The Inclusivist Answer
Christianity is the offshoot of Judaism and Christians should be part of the Jewish people. Paul
endeavoured to change Israel’s boundary markers in order to include gentiles into the Jewish
people. “Salvation comes to the gentiles only through their being part in Israel”. This is an
approach heralded by James Dunn (1998, 268).
All these hypotheses gravitate around the questions of how Paul saw himself and how he
defined the relationship between Judaism and Christian faith. As a theorist of metaphor I can
only try to explore the role of metaphor, in particular the circumcision metaphor, in Paul’s
thinking. But, as we shall see, Paul’s circumcision-metaphor can also be a point of departure
for examining the way in which he incorporates Jewish teaching and identity.
4. The role of metaphor in Paul’s sayings on circumcision
In order to know which features of circumcision are salient for Paul in the construction of his
metaphor, we must first gain solid knowledge about the way in which Paul viewed this ritual.
Paul discusses circumcision, and through this approach his relation to Judaism, using both
metaphorical and non-metaphorical language.
4.1 Paul’s non-metaphoric sayings on circumcision: Paul’s Letter to the Galatians
Among the fresh Jewish-Christian community, the debate raged whether gentile converts
should undergo circumcision. Many Jewish Christians adamantly argued in favour of it.
Among the gentile believers the idea that circumcision was a prerequisite for becoming a
Christian in good standing was also widespread (although circumcision was seen as an
abomination in the Graeco-Roman world). However, we have already seen that the first gentile
members of the early church were recruited among the relatively large group of Judaising
gentiles. They practised Jewish customs – albeit selectively – and attended synagogue service.
If we may trust our sources, these gentiles were prepared to undergo circumcision. Paul started
discussing the issue whether Christians should undergo circumcision in his letter to the
Galatians, a group of Christian communities in Asia Minor which he had founded. After his
departure Jewish Christian missionaries urged them to undergo circumcision. Paul’s epistle to
the Galatians is a response to this interference with his own teachings.
To these Judaising gentiles he expounds the notions – characteristic for his theology – of
justification by faith and not by works (i. e. obedience to the Jewish Law). Jewish religion, he
argues, is focused on what people do (“their works”). The Torah enjoins people to behave in
this or that way (keeping the festivals and the purity laws etc.), whereas Christianity demands
faith. Through the advent and suffering of Christ the obedience to Jewish Law has become
irrelevant (albeit still binding for those who stand under it). It served provisionally as a fence
against sin, but thanks to the indwelling spirit of Christ, proper behaviour no longer requires
the precepts of Jewish Law. Christian living is inspired by impulses and virtues like “love, joy,
peace, patience, loving-kindness, goodness and faith” (Gal 6:22-24).
Then Paul addresses the issue of circumcision. His admonition to the Galatians not to give
in to the pressure of Jewish Christians is supported by the following arguments:
(1) In a Christian perspective there cannot be any distinction between Jews and Gentiles.
25
25
“There is neither Jew nor Greek (…) for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.” (Gal. 3:28)
11
(2) Circumcision as a sign of Jewish distinctiveness is no longer valuable and meaningful.
26
(3) Undergoing circumcision is tantamount to denying the salvation brought by Jesus’ advent
and crucifixion. A man who does this is “fallen from grace”.
27
(4) Once a man is circumcised he stands under the rule of Jewish Law.
28
(5) Those who abide under the Law must keep all the commandments lest they be doomed.
Christ’s salvation will be of no help in the case of failure to observe the Law in its integrity.
(6) Therefore Jewish Law, albeit useful in its time, has become a curse now that men can
benefit by Jesus’ grace.
29
Paul thus leaves not the slightest doubt about the fact that he regarded circumcision as a non-
value for Christians. In addition Paul most obviously regarded circumcision as tantamount to
being Jewish and standing under the Mosaic Law.
4.1.2: Circumcision and conversion to Judaism
Most puzzling is Paul’s contention that circumcision eo ipso confers Jewish identity.
In this context the question arises about the significance of circumcision in the conversion
procedure. There has been a Talmudic debate on this issue. The treatise Yebamoth (46a,
Babylonian Talmud) records diverging opinions: Some Rabbis contend that ablution (a parallel
to baptism) is to be regarded as ritually decisive but not circumcision, and vice-versa. The
discussion finally leads to the ruling that both, i.e. circumcision and the ritual ablution, are of
equal importance.
30
If only circumcision has been completed, the children of a proselyte by a
Jewish woman would be regarded as bastards (ibid.).
The following thing should absolutely be emphasised: circumcision is in no way an entry to
Judaism; it’s not a parallel to baptism. It is simply the first law to be applied. It’s the father’s
duty to circumcise his sons. If he fails to do so the son is expected to effect circumcision on his
own body.
31
This implies that a man stands under Jewish Law by birth, even uncircumcised.
The same holds for conversion to Judaism, which first and foremost is a commitment of the
soul (Will and Orrieux 1992: 160). Since the (male) convert is regarded as a new-born person,
he must undergo circumcision. To be sure, before 200 CE there was a Pharisaic tradition
represented by Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrkanos according to whom circumcision alone counts for
conversion. It’s possible that Paul was part of this tradition. However, the opposite view has
also been expressed in that very period, saying that ritual bathing would be sufficient (b
Sanhedrin, 68a, 101a, see also Will and Orrieux 1992: 163).
Whatever the case, all these rabbinical discussions deal with the legal formalisation of the
conversion process, that is to say the sealing of the entry into Jewish peoplehood, not with
religious conversion as such (Will and Orrieux 1992: 160), which, in any case, must be
preceded by the solemn declaration to obey the Jewish laws.
26
“Behold, I Paul say unto you, that if ye be circumcised, Christ shall profit you nothing.” (Gal. 5:2)
27
“For I testify again to every man that is circumcised, that he is a debtor to do the whole law. Christ is become
of no effect unto you, whosoever of you are justified by the law; ye are fallen from grace.” (Gal. 5: 3-4)
28
Gal. 5:3.
29
“For as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse: for it is written, Cursed [is] every one that
continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them.” (Gal. 3:10)
30
Babylonian Talmud, Yebamoth (46 a): “The Sages, however, said, ‘Whether he had performed ritual ablution
but had not been circumcised or whether he had been circumcised but had not performed the prescribed ritual
ablution, he is not a proper proselyte unless he has been circumcised and has also performed the prescribed ritual
ablution’.”
31
Samuel Holdheim (1806-1860) makes this clear in his book on circumcision (1844: 8): “The one [i. e. non-
circumcised man] who does not effect circumcision on himself, is a destroyer of the Covenant. Ergo: one can
destroy the Covenant only if one is already part of it” [translation mine].
12
Another question arises: for what reason the male Galatian converts to Christianity were
eager to undergo circumcision? We have no record of what was going on in their minds. One
might hypothesise that these non-Jewish Christians did not exactly want to become Jews but
aspired to the “imitatio Christi” (imitation of Christ). Jesus was circumcised, therefore they
wanted to be circumcised too. The reason why I venture this hypothesis is a significant
historical fact: Ethiopian converts in the 16th and 17th century vividly expressed the wish to
undergo circumcision because they wanted to be like Jesus (Leonardo Cohen 2009: 161, 181).
There is also another interesting hypothesis put forward by Susan Elliot (1999: 119):
Circumcision reminded the Galatians of their ancestral cult of the Mother Goddess, whose
priests were eunuchs. Whatever the case, Paul wanted to thwart by all means the emergence of
ritualism among his communities.
In no way does circumcision automatically confer Jewish identity.
32
Paul’s equation of
circumcision with Jewishness was juridically based on weak ground and motivated by his will
to dissuade his audience from converting to Judaism.
4.2 Circumcision as emblem for Jewishness
Metaphor is an important feature of human cognition and language, but it is not the only one.
In this section I use other theoretical tools from cognitive linguistics – metonymy and cognitive
models – in order to probe the way Paul’s mind may have been working with respect to the
word ‘circumcision’ and the concept of Jewishness.
4.2.1 Some cognitive-linguistic instruments: Idealised cognitive models and metonymy
This situation can be understood further in terms of cognitive semantics. The human mind does
not primarily think in terms of legal, philosophical or logical definitions. It does not primarily
form categories in this way – and what is at issue here is a category, the category of Jewishness.
Rather, human minds form what Lakoff (1987) has called ‘cognitive models’ and ‘idealised
cognitive models’ (ICMs). Cognitive models are mental chunks, generally unconscious, that
contain understandings, perceptions and feelings about the way different aspects of the world
are. The term ‘idealised cognitive models’ recognises the fact that these models do not
correspond with an objective reality ‘out there’.
Lakoff argues that words are defined relative to a particular ICM, not to purely taxonomic or
lexical criteria. For example he shows that words that look like synonyms belonging to the
same category when defined lexically do not in fact have the same meaning for their users, and
are not in practice interchangeable. For example, ‘unmarried man’ and ‘bachelor’ are formally
equivalent, i.e. they belong to the same formal category (whose necessary and sufficient
conditions are + male and - married) but are not conceptually (including emotively) the same
for speakers of English. There are separate cognitive frames for each word (Lakoff 1987: 130).
In general, ICMs are categories that are formed all the time and can change; some become
relatively fixed and become ‘stereotypes’ in social use – repeated models for social categories
(Lakoff 1987: 77-90). This is the way ‘identities’ are formed in the mind.
This is where metonymy also comes in. One of the ways we use ICMs is by way of metonymy
– understood here as core feature of the human cognition rather than as primarily a rhetorical
device. Metonymy happens when one mental element in an ICM is used to stand for another
(Lakoff 1987: 77-79). In the case of the category (or ICM) Jew included are presumably many
kinds of knowledge and feeling concerning history, texts, laws, buildings, practices, even
people’s physical features, and of course the ritual of circumcision. Some of these can stand
for the whole category, depending on what is relevant or salient in a particular context. They
32
Surprisingly, Daniel Boyarin (1994: 112) writes that “circumcision alone counts as conversion to Judaism”.
13
are called part-whole metonymies or frame metonymies (see Dancygier and Sweetser 2014:
101).
To stress the sometimes enormous discrepancies between the source-related ICM and the
source as it ‘really is’ from an ontological (e.g. scientific) viewpoint I introduced the notion of
‘emblem’ (see Bisschops 1994). In many if not most cases, the source of a metaphor or
metonymy is associated with commonly accepted commonplaces, mythology, folk theories
and/or symbolism. All these elements constitute what I would like to call the emblematic
meaning of the source. As Searle (1979: 102) observed: “gorilla” in “the doorkeeper is a
gorilla” does not denote the animal from a zoological viewpoint but stands for a conglomerate
of culturally determined assumptions and even imaginations (one might think of the effect of
films such as King Kong). Gorillas are shy, doorkeepers not. In the doorkeeper’s case, the
‘gorilla’ is not a gorilla at all.
Actually the notions of circumcision and Jewish identity appear to alternate interchangeably in
Paul’s writings, as well as in the Hellenistic world. However, ‘being circumcised’ and ‘being
Jewish’ do not refer to exactly the same categories of people, the same ICM; nor do they have
the same conceptual and emotive connections in the mind (see also 4.2.3).
This interchangeability, which, in principle, constitutes a clash of meanings, attests the
metonymical character of the term “circumcision” in Paul, both from a classical semantic and
certainly from a cognitive viewpoint.
4.2.2 Circumcision as emblematic metonymy for Jewishness
It is an undisputable fact that in the Graeco-Roman world circumcision was regarded as the
marker of Jewish identity par excellence, although many other Near-Eastern peoples also
practised it. While such a view can be called ‘stereotypical’, Paul’s equation of circumcision
with Judaism and all the duties a Jew must observe (Torah) might be called idiosyncratic from
a juridical (halakhic) angle. Both views, however, sustain each other in the socio-cultural
context of Paul’s language. In Paul’s thought-world circumcision appears as a metonymy for
conversion to Judaism and Jewish (ritualistic) Law-abidingness.
Paul’s wholesale equation of circumcision with Jewish identity may be called emblematic: it
functions as an emblem for Jewish Law, Jewish identity and Law-abidingness. It has little
bearing on the ritual and juridical relevance of circumcision as such in Judaism. Only from this
stage onward can circumcision as an emblem, generated by a frame metonymical process,
function as a metaphor in Pauline discourse (see Romans 2:28-29).
Generally an orator presupposes a pre-existing emblematic (and ICM background it is related
to), shared by the audience and himself, to create his metaphors. In the absence of such
emblematic notions the metaphor would not be easily – and certainly not rapidly – understood
(Bisschops 1994). But it is also imaginable that he or she constructs his/her own emblems
before using them as sources for his/her metaphors or metonymies. This seems to be the case
with Paul, whose non-metaphoric sayings, as we have seen, are abundantly clear about the
unconventional way he perceived circumcision. To substantiate this supposition we must first
take a look at the biblical precedents of Paul’s metaphor. Was Paul’s use of it really so specific?
4.2.3 The covenantal meaning of circumcision
Some readers might object that the nexus between Judaism and circumcision may be justified
by the ‘covenantal’ meaning of the latter. It is in the Priestly tradition, which arose in the 5th
century BCE, that circumcision was bestowed with a covenantal meaning.
33
Since then it has
figured as the sign of the Abrahamic covenant, while the Shabbat is the sign of the Sinaitic
33
In early Israelite religion, as we know it from Deuteronomistic sources, circumcision was a custom but in no
way the sign of a covenant (Hoffman, 1996: 33.).
14
covenant. However, even in the Hebrew Bible the link between circumcision and covenant is
not intrinsic. Abraham’s first son, Ismael, was circumcised, but he was excluded from the
covenant (Gen .17: 20-21). A resident alien (Hebrew ger) was allowed to take part in the
Passover meal, provided he underwent circumcision (Ex. 12: 48). However, Bernat (2009: 48)
shows that a ger, even circumcised, was still lower on the social ladder than born Israelites. As
he puts it, circumcision as such “does not effectuate a crossing or blurring of these boundaries
[between outsiders and native Israelites]”.
At the same time, Paul downplayed the covenantal significance of circumcision, saying
that Abraham received the commandment of circumcision as a reward for his righteousness
(Rom: 4.11). This is a reading which is perfectly defensible from a strictly Jewish viewpoint:
the Torah is a gift, which one has to deserve. From this Paul infers that righteously living people
can claim Abraham as their ancestor without undergoing circumcision. Paul emptied the notion
of circumcision from its covenantal meaning while establishing a link between this same notion
and Torah-observance. He did not want the covenant with God to be sealed by rituals. And he
certainly did not want his disciples to convert to Judaism, whose laws one could hardly observe
in their minutiae. Paul’s equation of circumcision and Jewish Law in its rigor serves as a
deterrent.
5. Biblical precedents of circumcision as a metaphor
We have now examined non-metaphorical processes involved in Paul’s thinking about
circumcision, noting in particular its metonymic functioning as an emblem for Jewishness. We
now turn to metaphor, the projection of the whole cognitive complex surrounding the term
circumcision onto new conceptual targets. The biblical tradition with which Paul was imbued
had already begun this kind of metaphorical projection.
5.1 Observations
5.1.1 Biblical circumcision metaphors as value-extensions
The biblical precedents of Paul’s circumcision-metaphor are well-known:
Jeremiah (4, 4): “Circumcise (himolou) yourselves to the Lord and remove the foreskin of
your hearts” (hasirou orlot levavchem).
Deuteronomy (10, 16): “Circumcise the foreskin of your hearts” (u-maltem et orlat
levavchem).
We may assume that Paul was familiar with these passages. And even more than that: Paul
appeals to these verses to convey ancestral dignity to his own metaphorical statement, whose
implications, in sharp contrast to their precedents, are strikingly heterodox. From the foregoing
sections we can immediately note the following: according to the canonical interpretation of
the verses the injunction “circumcise your hearts” does not imply that the ritual practice should
be abrogated. In the context of Jeremiah there is no doubt about it: His male audience was
already circumcised.
34
Jeremiah stated that their “heart” should be circumcised too. In this case,
the metaphor represents a value extension. Ritual circumcision is important, but the
circumcision of the heart is of equal or even greater importance.
5.1.2 Contextual elements
34
Whether the children of Israel were circumcised while they were wandering in the desert is still a matter of
rabbinical discussion.
15
In both verses the illocutionary intention is admonition. The verses respond to the inclination
towards idolatry among the children of Israel. In the verses preceding Deuteronomy (10, 16)
Moses recalls the incident of the worship of the golden calf. His metaphor is immediately
followed by the warning: “and do not be stiff-necked any longer” (ve-arpechem lo takshou od).
In Jeremiah (4:4) the circumcision metaphor appears in exactly the same context; it is
motivated by the idolatry of the Jews (Jer. 3:6-10 and 4:1). The illocutionary force is even more
threatening, as it is immediately followed by the words: “lest My fury come forth like fire.”
5.2 Interpretations
5.2.1 Interpreting a Hebrew metaphor from its root-notion
The interpretive and exegetical effort which our metaphor demands is generally eschewed by
pulpit paraphrases such as: “circumcision of the heart is a symbol of the devotion of the heart
to its rightful Lord”.
35
They make the nexus between circumcision and the heart appear self-
evident, while in reality it cannot be taken for granted at all. That a heart can be circumcised,
even in a figurative way, is anything but obvious. In its original Hebrew wording the
circumcision-metaphor is much more revealing than its Greek parallel in the Septuagint, where
we read “circumcise the hardness of your heart” (peritemeiste tein sklerocardian). This
translation, incidentally, is already an interpretation. The Hebrew wording contains the clues
for the interpretation of the metaphor: “circumcise (himolou) and remove (hasirou) the foreskin
(orla[t])
36
of your heart (levavechem)”. The metaphor is explicitly referred to as the ‘cutting’
and ‘removal’ of the ‘foreskin’, which are presented as the salient features of the source in its
metaphorical use. Is that not self-evident? Certainly from a surgical viewpoint, but not from
the viewpoint of historical semantics and metaphorology. Shaye Cohen (2010: 436) observes
that in biblical times “what mattered was the cut, not the blood”. The blood shed during the
operation and which is sucked off by the mohel (circumciser)
37
has been much more vividly
addressed in later Jewish (rabbinical) symbolism.
38
To put it in the vocabulary of Cognitive
Linguistics: in the present examples ‘cutting’ and ‘foreskin’ are metonymies in which parts of
the cognitive model of ‘circumcision’ are used to stand for the whole model. The fact that in
these cases we are possibly dealing with a standard locution does not alter this observation
from a cognitive viewpoint.
39
The Greek word peritomè (‘cutting around’) does not explicitly evoke the notion of foreskin
and makes it easier to regard less surgical notions as salient (which, most visibly, is the case
with Paul). The main reason why I insist on the Hebrew wording is the fact that orla (foreskin)
goes back to the root-form arel, which means ‘uncircumcised’ if applied to people, but has
other meanings as well. This word appears in contexts which are anything but related to ritual
circumcision. Arel applies to the mouth (Ex. 6:12), designating a speech impairment, the ears
(Jer. 6:10), indicating deafness, and to the fruits of a tree within the first three years after it has
been planted (Lev.19:23). Finally it applies to the heart as well. A common denominator for
arel in the cases listed here is the notion of ‘deficiency’, or ‘imperfection’. A mouth that cannot
speak is deficient. So is an ear which cannot hear. As to the fruits, if there are any, it applies to
35
Available at Bible Hub (online portal).
36
‘orlat’ is the status constructus for ‘orla’.
37
Incidentally, it is precisely the blood which the liturgical text accompanying the circumcision evokes (“in your
blood live!”). Blood is also the central motif in the enigmatic biblical passage where Zippora circumcises Moses’
son and says: “a bloody husband thou art” (Ex. 4: 26).
38
Marc Neiger (2011: 12) writes “The biblical text does not give a specific role to the blood of circumcision,
unlike sacrificial blood”. On the symbolism of blood in circumcision see also Hoffmann: 1996.
39
Cognitive Linguistics focuses on metaphors which are part of everyday speech, including standard expressions,
because they reveal the way we conceptualise our world view.
16
products of trees which have not yet reached an age of three years:
40
they are inedible.
41
Noteworthy is that one of the antonyms of arel brought forward in rabbinic writings is tam,
42
echoing Gen. 17:1 and meaning ‘blameless’.
43
It is also noteworthy that the Septuagint
translates orla (foreskin) as ‘impurity’ (akatarsia).
44
Arel lev (‘uncircumcised’ heart) would
then mean a ‘deficient, imperfect’ heart. What can this mean? This leads us to the emblem of
the heart in Hebrew Bible.
5.2.2 ‘Heart’ in the Hebrew Bible
The image of the heart presents us with an ‘archetypical metonymy’ (Norager 1999: 226). But
what does this metonymy stand for? The bodily basis for the metonymy might be the close
physical association between emotional states (fear, sadness, lust...) and physical sensations
coming from heart rate, etc. What is the cognitive model it is related to? In the Western
imaginary ‘heart’ comes to be seen as the ‘seat’ of our emotions and is prominent in
romanticising discourse. In most cases ‘heart’ also has this meaning in the Hebrew Bible, but
there is more. In many biblical instances the heart stands for mental capacities and
performances such as: understanding (Prov 8: 5), judgement (Prov. 24: 30) and skill
45
(Ex 35:
25). The prophet Hosea says that “prostitution and wine take away the heart” (Hos 4:11). In
this case ‘heart’ undeniably denotes, besides the corruption of our feelings, also our mental
capacities. In the Hebrew language other body-based metonymies with similar meanings exist,
including cilyah (kidney), which stands for intuition, and kerev (bowel), standing for our
innermost perception of things. In none of these cases can the mind, seen as rational activity,
and feelings be entirely dissociated. However, among the bodily-based metonymies ‘heart’
comes the closest to the notions of mind and understanding. The following example might
provide an illustration of a definitely non-emotional meaning of ‘heart’. In Hebrew la-sim lev
(literally: ‘to give one’s heart’) means: to take to heart (cf. 1 Samuel 4:20). But it also means:
to pay attention. In this sense this locution appears in Ezekiel where God asks the prophet to
“pay attention” to the architecture of the new Temple, shown to him in a vision (Ez 40: 4; 44:
5).
A more philosophical question is whether ‘heart’ refers only to the psycho-somatic part of the
human being and not to the metaphysical notion of the soul as well. I think the former statement
is true, since the Hebrew language has an array of notions designing more ‘spiritual’ concepts
such as rouach (wind) standing for the “breath of life”, nefesh and neshama meaning
respiration, the latter word coming the closest to the notion of the soul. The Hebrew Bible is
unspecific about the issue of soul and afterlife. Some Psalm verses (6: 6 and 30: 9)
46
seem to
40
According to the rabbinical interpretation (Rashi, Sifra) the three years are counted from the time of planting.
During such a short period, however, fruits grow only in rare cases and the interdiction of their consumption
would have a limited sense.
41
For a better understanding of this agricultural law consider the example of the olive tree, which was the main
alimentary source in Ancient Israel. Pruning olive trees helps to keep the tree a manageable size, otherwise
harvesting becomes very difficult and time (See Chatterton 2003)..
42
“Now, he (Abraham) was ordered, WALK BEFORE ME, AND BE THOU WHOLE (Hebr. ‘tam’) If he
circumcised himself at the ear, he would not be WHOLE; at the mouth, he would not be WHOLE; at the heart, he
would not be WHOLE. Where could he circumcise himself and yet be WHOLE (‘tam’)? Nowhere else than at the
‘orla’ (foreskin) of the body.” (Midrash Rabbah - Genesis XLVI: 5).
43
See Mark Neiger, A Hill of Foreskins, p. 16.
44
Bernat (2009, 83-114.) endeavours to interpret arel (foreskinned) as a metaphor when applied to the mouth (Ex.
6 :4-5) or the heart (Lev. 26 :41). His reading certainly deserves consideration. However neither the Septuagint
nor Philo sustain this reading (as Bernat himself observes).
45
in the locution chacham lev meaning ‘wise of heart’ and denoting technical skillfulness.
46
“For in death there is no remembrance of thee, who shall give thee thanks?” (Ps. 6:6); “What profit is there in
my blood when I go down to the pit? Shall the dust praise thee? Shall it declare thy truth?” (Ps. 30:9).
17
deny the existence of a soul that can be dissociated from the body, whereas Psalm 63:4 states
that God’s grace is more important than life. However, the Bible does not contain philosophical
treatises. We must content ourselves with the provisional meaning of ‘heart’ as the seat of
mind, thought and feelings.
5.2.3 Interpretative schemes from a receptive and a productive viewpoint
From a receptive viewpoint the interpretative scheme would then be:
(1) arel (‘foreskinned’) = imperfection, impurity, flaw or abomination;
(2) orla (‘foreskin’) = the fact of being imperfect;
(3) lev (‘heart’) = understanding;
(4) arel lev (‘foreskinned heart’) = an imperfect, limited understanding;
(5) moul be-orla (‘taking away the foreskin’) = freeing the mind from its imperfection (torpor,
absence of its capacity to differentiate, evil intentions, rebellion etc.).
While the first four aspects of the understanding of the metaphor can be obtained from a literal
reading, moulah (circumcision) can be regarded as a ‘metaphor’ provided that it is not only
understandable via analogy, but also via its groundedness in the polysemy of arel. From the
viewpoint of production the mechanism of the metaphor could then be described as follows:
(1) the mind of the Israelites is arel in the sense of imperfect, that is to say producing false,
wrong or rebellious thoughts.
(2) arel also means foreskinned;
(3) the rebellion must be taken away from their mind (‘heart’);
(4) resulting ‘metaphor’: The heart must be circumcised.
It is noteworthy that the line between metaphor and word-play is not easy to draw here.
47
5.3 Source and Target in the Hebrew Circumcision-Metaphors
Let us recapitulate our findings in the terminology of Cognitive Linguistics. The Hebrew
circumcision metaphor is subdivided into two elements in the circumcision cognitive model
that is the metaphor’s source domain: (1) foreskin and (2) cutting, removing. The target of
‘foreskin’ is the ‘rebellious ideas’ of the Israelites, that is to say their inclination to idolatry.
The target of ‘cutting’ is the removal of these rebellious ideas. Hence, the “circumcision of the
heart” denotes the process of the extirpation of vicious and rebellious thoughts. Since both
instances of the metaphor occur in admonishing (Deuteronomy) or even threatening (Jeremiah)
verses, this process is a harsh and painful one, motivated by stern pedagogical concerns.
There is still one essential thing to be said about the target conceptual space. The
circumcision metaphor does not refer to a clearly pre-existing target such as in schoolbook
examples (‘Richard is a gorilla’, ‘Man is a wolf’, where stereotyped animal characteristics are
mapped onto a rich existing conceptualisation of humans). The circumcision metaphor
presupposes the possibility of the existence of a target space, that is to say the possibility of a
circumcision on another, non-physical level. Whether this target really exists is an ontological
issue and not a linguistic or cognitive one. The only thing we can observe is that the metaphor
47
In another biblical context (Isaiah 25: 6-8) a similar state of affairs has been noticed by Doyle (2003: 153-184).
He contends that some Hebrew word-play can also be regarded as metaphor in that, of the evoked meanings, the
least isotopic one functions as a metaphor of the other, more isotopic one.
18
under consideration contains an existential statement about the target. It says: “There is
something in the mind which can be likened to circumcision.” Hence, the metaphor does not
only qualify this inward process via projection, it also says that it can and should exist.
Therefore, from a linguistic and cognitive
48
viewpoint, I would say that the circumcision
metaphor is target-creating.
49
5.4 Philo’s Analogical Reading of the Biblical Circumcision-Metaphor
A systematic analogical reading has been undertaken by Philo of Alexandria (25 BCE – 50
CE). He was a Hellenised Jew steeped in Greek philosophy and Homeric exegesis. He
interpreted the Hebrew Scriptures systematically along analogical and allegorical lines. He was
a contemporary of Paul and his hermeneutics are believed to be a parallel of Paul’s reading of
the Hebrew Bible. I will show that this is not the case with respect to the circumcision
metaphor.
I will present Philo’s interpretation of Dt. 10:16 in a concise form, since this issue has already
been extensively discussed in Niehoff (2003). Philo departs from the Greek translation (the
Septuagint). His interpretation runs as follows:
(1) The foreskin is “superfluous with respect to procreation” (Niehoff 2003: 96) and therefore
it should be removed. “In this way circumcision emerges as a necessary perfection of Creation
(Niehoff loc. cit.).”
(2) The physical operation expresses a spiritual essence (Niehoff 2003: 95).
(3) The removal of the foreskin corresponds via analogy to the “excision of superfluous
accretions of the intellect”, such as “hard”, “rebellious”, “refractory thoughts” and “arrogance”
(cited by Niehoff 2003: 95).
It deserves attention that Philo’s analogical reading leads to the same interpretation as the one
I reached via lexical analogy: for Philo, the circumcision-metaphor also addresses rebellion
and denotes the “excision” (Philo, The Special Laws I) of all superfluous thoughts and excessive
pleasures. Philo also goes back, albeit implicitly, to the notion of arel (meaning ‘imperfect’),
which he translates as ‘superfluous’. This is in line with rabbinical thinking according to which
Creation, which in principle should be perfect, still needs some corrections, one of them being
circumcision.
50
In Philo’s mind, all that is superfluous contradicts perfection. In keeping with
this, Philo regards rebellious thoughts as “superfluous” ones.
51
It is interesting to note that
Philo, throughout his analogical interpretation, identifies circumcision of the heart as a
metaphor in the full sense of the word. Source, target and mapping are unmistakably clear here.
5.5 What about the experiential basis of the circumcision-metaphor?
48
It should be repeated once again that ‘cognitive’ does not imply that there actually is some verifiable or
falsifiable cognition. Cognitive sciences deal with mental processes only, not with truth.
49
We can maybe understand the ‘creation of a target domain’ as the extreme case of underdetermination,
where the verbal expression simply triggers the human cognitive processes to set up a blank conceptual domain
(‘space’), which is filled out by additional knowledge and inference.
50
“(…) whatever was created in the first six days requires further preparation, e.g., mustard needs sweetening,
vetches need sweetening, wheat needs grinding, and man too needs to be finished off [i. e. by circumcision]”
(Midrash Rabbah - Genesis 11:6).
51
Niehoff (2003: 96) explains this in the following way: “As much as Eve was a harmful addition to Adam, who
until then had enjoyed perfect rationality and harmony with God, the passions are a harmful addition to the mind
and therefore need to be cut off.”
19
Interpreted from an experiential, bodily perspective, “circumcise your heart” could mean: “be
more sensitive and hearken to God’s word”.
52
The removal of the foreskin makes the glans
more sensitive and this experience might be projected onto the heart as the seat of thoughts and
feelings and whose form resembles that of the glans.
53
The underlying metaphorical statement
would then be: REVELATION IS LUST. In the light of the fact that the metaphor GOD IS THE
HUSBAND OF HIS PEOPLE is widespread in the prophetic writings, this interpretation is not to be
discarded wholesale. The problem with this approach, however, is that it does not square with
the cultural construct around circumcision and sexual satisfaction: (1) According to all known
Jewish folk-theories until Maimonides the function of circumcision consists in weakening
lust.
54
(2) In the Hebrew Bible the motif of lust is exclusively developed with respect to
worshipping alien gods (temple prostitution, wild pagan orgies). (3) The motif of the
extirpation of rebellious thoughts connotes pain, as I have expounded, not lust.
6 The Pauline circumcision metaphor
Now, finally, I return to Paul. Why did he retrieve a notion from the Jewish canon, which he
seemingly no longer regarded as binding? One might presume that at least the metaphorical
meaning of ‘circumcision’ in the verses of Deuteronomy and Jeremiah, to which he most
obviously referred, was still precious to him. Even that seems not to be the case. Paul’s
intention was more specific, but also more difficult to uncover. Let us now focus on the
following verses:
For he is not a Jew, which is one outwardly; neither is that circumcision, which is
outward in the flesh (Rom 2: 28). But a Jew is inward/hidden; and circumcision is that
of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter; whose praise is not of men, but of God
(Rom 2: 29).
In these verses circumcision as metaphor appears within a cluster of notions referring
respectively to ritual, anthropological, theological and metaphysical entities. In my analysis I
shall first list those things which we can observe; subsequently, I will try to distil the possible
messages from this highly complex passage. There are also other instances of circumcision of
the heart in the Pauline oeuvre (Col. 2:11 and Phil. 3:4), but these will not be discussed here:
Colossians is not written by Paul, albeit attributed to him. And Philippians 3:4, as has been
contended by Windsor (2014: 53), the words “we are the circumcision”, which might have
been a feast for metaphorologists, does not include Paul’s gentile audience but only applies to
him and Timothy.
55
In that case it would not be a metaphor.
6.1 Contextual and Historical Elements
52
The great medieval commentator Rashi sees it this way (cf. Rashi on Ex. 6:12 and Lev. 19:23).
53
This more than obvious resemblance is noted by Philo (The Special Laws I). However, according to him, the
mapping element is functionality: the penis is functional for procreation in the same way as the heart is functional
for the working of the mind.
54
Maimonides (who was also a physician) writes: “Circumcision simply counteracts excessive lust, for there is
no doubt that circumcision weakens the power of sexual excitement, and sometimes lessens the natural
enjoyment.” (Moses Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed, part 3, chapter 49). As to female pleasure during
intercourse with non circumcised men, see Midrash Rabbah: “R. Hunia observed: When a woman is intimate
with an uncircumcised person, she finds it hard to tear herself away.” (Genesis Rabbah, 80:11)
55
“(…) for we are the true circumcision, who worship in the Spirit of God and glory in Christ Jesus and put no
confidence in the flesh.”
20
Just as in the preceding instances, the circumcision metaphor appears in a polemic context
(Romans 2:17-27). Paul addresses a so-called Jew for boasting of his being Jewish.
56
The fact
that Jews appear in the third-person plural indicates that Paul is addressing Gentile Christians
(see Jennings 2013: 55) In fact, Jewish presence in Rome at that time may not have been
significant, Claudius (10 BCE–54 CE) having expelled the Jews in 49 CE (Smallwood 2001:
215). Romans appeared between 55 and 58. Claudius’ successor Nero adopted a Jew-friendly
policy. But the letter was written just at the beginning of his reign (54 CE).
Paul accuses his interlocutor of not keeping the law, while calling himself a Jew. He accuses
him of blaspheming “the Name of God among the Gentiles” (Rom 2:24). The wording of this
reproach is typically biblical, echoing Leviticus 22:32: “And ye shall not profane My holy name;
but I will be hallowed among the children of Israel” The notion of Chillul Ha-Shem, desecrating
the Name of God amidst the gentiles, is one of the harshest reprimands that can be formulated
in Judaism. Up to the present times it denotes a behaviour unworthy of a Jew in the presence
of non-Jews. Then Paul says: “For he is not a Jew, which is one outwardly; neither is that
circumcision, which is outward in the flesh. But a Jew is inward/hidden; and circumcision is
that of the heart.” (Romans 2: 28-29).
Unequivocally, the word ‘Jew’ immediately and repeatedly preceding the motif of heart
circumcision, appears in a positive sense and clearly represents a strong value. It also serves as
a clue to understand Paul’s circumcision of the heart. The notion of the “hidden Jew” seems to
be equivalent to the “circumcision of the heart”. In the light of the immediate context,
circumcision clearly appears as a marker of Jewishness. As to the broader context, things are
the same. After reprimanding the interlocutor, who was tremendously proud of his being
circumcised, Paul launches a question which introduces his view on the destiny of the Jewish
people:
What then is the superiority of the Jew? Or what is the benefit of circumcision?
(Rom 3:1)
Again, Paul seems to be using ‘circumcision’ and Jewishness as conceptually very closely
connected, the former, as argued above, being emblematic of the latter. The rhetorical situation
of Romans is fairly similar to that of Galatians. Paul faced a gentile audience which was more
than willing to undergo circumcision. In Roman society imitating Judaism was a fashionable
thing to do. Thiessen (2014) believes that Paul’s so-called Jewish interlocutor got himself
circumcised without caring about any Jewish religious authority or ruling.
With respect to Paul’s attitude towards Judaism, Romans contains new and surprising
elements: Paul’s straightforward identification with the Jewish people (Rom 11:1), his saying
that Israel’s election shall never be undone (Rom 11: 29) and his admonition never to look
down on the Jews (Rom 11:20)
57
have rarely been so sharply expressed in his work. A possible
reason for Paul’s public valorisation of Judaism in Romans is that it might have been animated
by the plight of the Jews under Claudius and have stirred a spontaneous reflex of solidarity
with his own brethren.
6.2 Paul’s Metaphor as a Value-Shift
56
Recent literature is unanimous about the fact that Paul addresses one single person (real or imaginary)
in Romans 2: 17-29. Thiessen is affirmative about the fact that Paul’s interlocutor is a circumcised
gentile (2014, 378-379).
57
“Has God cast away his people? God forbid. For I am also an Israelite of the seed of Abraham and
the tribe of Benjamin.”
21
In sharp contrast with the Biblical precedents discussed in section 5, Paul addresses the
irrelevance of ritual circumcision, at least for Christians. In the light of the fact, however, that
Paul already adamantly advocated the suppression of the rite in his non-metaphorical speech
(cf. Galatians), the circumcision metaphor would be blatantly superfluous if it performed no
more than that.
Paul’s circumcision metaphor effects a value shift. Ritual circumcision does not make any
sense, Paul says, but there is another level where it should be realised. The abrogation of
circumcision is certainly not the sole and most important message of the metaphor.
Paradoxically, Paul dissuades his audience from undergoing circumcision using a specifically
Jewish vocabulary: “desecrating God’s name” (chillul ha-shem), “outer Jew” versus ”inner
Jew”. The fact that he needed circumcision as a metaphor to abrogate genital circumcision is
puzzling in itself. He introduces a supreme Jewish value to abolish it.
7. Interpretation: which values are imported?
7. 1 The source-referent
Our exegetical inquiry teaches us that in Paul’s thought-world circumcision is a metonymy for
the process of becoming a Jew and hence for law-abidingness (see also Dunn 2008: 315 and
Windsor 2014: 45). I called this metonymy emblematic because this relation is not self-evident
and was constructed in Paul’s own work. Hence, the source domain of circumcision is the
Torah, because in Paul’s mind the most salient feature of circumcision is the fact that it is a law
belonging to the Jewish written codex. This is not the case with the biblical precedents, where
other features need to be highlighted to understand the metaphor.
Contrary to some interpretations (Boyarin 1994: 80), Philo’s analogy is not applicable in the
case of Paul because it departs from the assumption that the foreskin is a mark of imperfection
and something superfluous. This cannot be Paul’s view, since he regarded circumcision as
objectionable. On the inward, spiritual level circumcision can not mean the extirpation of
something evil, since the parallel (analogon) of that evil is absent in the source. Hence, the
understanding of Paul’s metaphor would not be advanced by highlighting the sub-units of
‘cutting’ and ‘foreskin’ in the source-domain cognitive model of ‘circumcision’. In a word:
contrary to the biblical precedents and also to their Philonic reading, there is nothing to be cut
off in Paul’s case. The rhetorical situation in which circumcision of the heart appears is an
additional argument for this view. The whole passage is about identity. Paul introduces the
metaphor in order to suggest that Christian identity, though inspired by Jewish tradition, is not
to be affirmed via external signs of commitment. This paradigm change has been overlooked
in Pauline studies.
58
The rhetorical situation of Romans (Paul talking to gentiles flirting with Jewish rituals) is
also crucial to understand why he hints at the prophetic and toraic circumcision metaphors (Jer
4: 4; Dtn 10: 16), though he makes a totally different use of ‘heart circumcision’. The
reminiscence of this image, hallowed by its appearance in the Holy Writ, must have impressed
his audience. Since ‘circumcision’ in Paul emblematically means ‘being or becoming a Jew
58
To start with John Calvin, who wrote: “And what he subjoins with regard to true circumcision, is taken from
various passages of Scripture, and even from its general teaching; for the people are everywhere commanded to
circumcise their hearts, and it is what the Lord promises to do. The foreskin was cut off, not indeed as the small
corruption of one part, but as that of the whole nature. Circumcision then signified the mortification of the whole
flesh” (Commentary on Romans, 2:28). In this reading Calvin is obviously inspired by Col. 2:11. Colossians is
not written by Paul, albeit attributed to him.
22
obedient to the Torah’ it stands for a series of duties, that is to say the duties to be fulfilled by
a faithful Jew. We noticed already that Paul was extremely uncompromising about that point:
A Jew who fails to obey the minutiae of the Law is doomed. Paul, however, wanted Christianity
to be freed from a codified system of duties the way Jewish legislation represents it. On the
other hand, being a Jew is a value, particularly in Romans. How to uphold that value when the
legal system it stands for is dismissed? There seems to be at least one solution, namely to
transpose the whole system of Jewish duties to another dimension, which in Paul’s thought
world is inwardness/hiddenness.
Three notions point towards this dimension: ‘heart’ (kardia), ‘inwardness’ (to krypton) and
‘spirit’ (pneuma). But what exactly is shifted towards that inward level? This brings us to the
analysis of the target.
7. 2 The target-referent
What is the target of the circumcision metaphor? As I have already argued with respect to the
biblical precedents, the target is not obvious, unlike schoolbook-cases (‘man is a wolf’), but is
presupposed by the circumcision metaphor, which, by the same token, also contains an
existential statement (‘there is - or must be - something like an inward circumcision’).
Circumcision of the heart is an inward process which parallels physical circumcision. However,
that inward process is a target which has just been created by the metaphorical statement. It is
like a blank white projection screen which has been opened just a few moments ago. Or to put
it more philosophically: the target is an entity which is glaringly underdetermined.
Consequently it provides us with no clues for the mapping process. For this reason Paul’s
metaphor can hardly be brought back to a conceptual metaphor in Lakoff’s sense (such as
“TIME IS A VALUABLE COMMODITY”) since in such a case the target is an entity or idea which
already exists. This being said, acknowledging the cognitive performance of metaphors
consisting in shaping extremely underdetermined (or even creating new) target domains seems
to be essential for the study of philosophical and theological concepts.
7. 3 The projection process
In Paul’s case this state of affairs is even more intricate, because, in the present metaphorical
process, the source loses the values it initially stood for. Being abrogated, these values cease
to exist. To put it simply: in Paul’s circumcision metaphor a target is created and the salient
source elements disappear. In section 1.4.3 I described such a paradoxical phenomenon as the
result of a dual-phased process with respect to evaluation: (1) the source stands for a positive
value which is imported into the target (via the blending-space); (2) via inversion (operated in
the blending space) the source gets de-valuated, which allows a value shift (instead of a value
extension).
What, in this process, happens to the values that the source emblematically stands for? They
are projected into the blending space, where they are transformed. Subsequently the outcome
(transformed source-value) is projected upon the target. Only in a second move is the source
affected by value-inversion. What matters now is the question which source-elements are
projected into the blending space and how they are transformed.
Two types of reading can emerge from this value-inversion: (1) the Torah is a supreme value
which should be superseded by a new supreme value, that is to say faith. The Torah disappears
and gives rise to Christian devotion. In that case the target is an empty semantic space, which
has to be filled in by something as valuable as Jewish law-abidingness in pre-Christian times.
The sole foregrounded source element, then, is the notion of supreme value as such, nothing
else. (2) The Torah, metonymically represented by circumcision, is the legal formulation of a
set of values which should be rephrased within a Christian, cross-ethnic (universal) context.
23
This reading, which points towards ethics, invokes the similarity principle between source and
target and is more entitled to claim plausibility. However, as we have already seen, similarity
between source and target is problematic in this case, the latter being underdetermined. Let me
briefly discuss both avenues.
59
7.3.1 First projection alternative: from law to faith
Many commentaries invoke the notions of faith and devotedness to God, which would
supersede the former (Jewish) priority accorded to deeds. Their strength lies in their semantic
simplicity: why project something from a source which is no longer needed?
The disadvantage of this approach is that it implicitly treats Paul’s metaphor as a mere
ornament of speech. If so, why did Paul choose a metaphor so heavily loaded with Jewish
reminiscences? And why did he associate it with a notion even more heavily value-loaded,
such as “the inner Jew”?
7.3.2 Second projection alternative: from law to ethics
Since ‘circumcision’ in Paul stands for a set of duties, the target therefore can be a set of duties
as well. The latter, however, should stand for something which is comparable to Law. This can,
in strictly semantic terms, only be something akin to law, that is: ethics or justice. Therefore,
one could argue, Paul’s metaphor can only make sense if it effects the transformation of Jewish
Law into ethics.
This brings up the question of Paul’s ethics. Throughout his work Paul insists on virtues,
’virtue’ being the core notion out of which Greek and Roman ethics were developed. Paul,
familiar with Hellenism, used virtue ethics as a model. Paul’s virtues are rooted in Jewish Law
but stripped of the legal formulation in which they are conveyed. They stress justice (Rom
8:10), fair business practice (1 Thess 4: 6) and attention to the poor (Gal 2:10, 2 Cor 8:14).
Pope Benedict XVI worded it thus (Ratzinger 2009: 40): in Paul “love for the poor is liturgy”.
Paul’s transformation of Law into ethics culminates in the verse (Gal 5:14): “The entire Law,
in one word, is fulfilled in this: you will love your neighbour as yourself.” This is a citation of
Leviticus 19:18, but it appears here as a roundup of the whole Torah. In this sense these words
come straight from the ‘tanna’ Rabbi Hillel,
60
whose grandson, Rabban Gamaliel, was Paul’s
teacher in his youth. Asked by a proselyte to be taught the entire Torah while he was standing
on one foot, Hillel (50 BCE–10 CE) answered: "What is hateful to you, do not do to your
neighbour. That’s the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation of this. Go and study it!" (Talmud
Babli, Shabbat 31a). The inward, motivational (instead of legal) character of Paul’s ethics is
reflected in his saying “I delight […] in the Law of God according to the inward man [kato to
eso anthropon]” (Rom 7:22).
A Pauline metaphor which comes very close to that of the circumcision of the heart appears
in a verse where gentiles who act rightfully are said to have the “work of Law [ergon tou
nomon] written on their hearts [graphton en tais kardiais]” (Rom 2:15). The fact that the ‘work
of law’ appears in this context lets us surmise that what is meant here is not mere faith, but an
internal disposition towards action. Paul’s moral advice reflects the Torah, albeit very
selectively. From a modern perspective one would say that Paul focused on the ratio legis, the
motivation of the Law, instead of its wording. In the light of the foregoing one might conclude
that Paul’s circumcision-metaphor constitutes the cradle of Christian ethics.
59
I will not deal with the many pulpit interpretations. Mostly preachers, but also exegetes, are quite
careless interpreting biblical metaphors, seeing them as mere ornaments of speech.
60
A ‘Tanna’ is one of the founding members of the Rabbinical tradition which led to Mishnah and
Talmud.
24
Hence, Paul’s circumcision-metaphor might answer the question: What are the Christian
duties? They are duties of the heart, which does not mean that they are confined to nice thoughts
and feelings. Paul was certainly not inimical to action, as many theologians have misread him.
Paul posits justification by faith mainly in opposition to justification by works of the Law
(ergon nomoi) in Galatians 2:16, which in Hebrew are called mitzvoth
61
or “ma-ase ha-torah”
62
What matters to him is the rootedness of our actions in an inward disposition which he calls
‘faith’ or ‘love’, and not in a written divine legislation which would entail that good deeds are
performed out of fear. The rejection of fear as a motive for behaviour is explicitly worded in
Romans 8:15.
63
The word ‘fear’ does indeed appear in the Hebrew notion of irat shamayim
(the fear of Heaven) as the motive for right behaviour in Judaism.
7.4 Conclusion on Paul’s circumcision metaphor
There are two possible answers to the question of which elements of the source (circumcision)
are projected onto the target. Each response reflects a fundamental stance in Pauline exegesis:
what is more fundamental in Paul? Religion or ethics? The first position is that of most religious
interpreters. Protestants would tend to stress faith, Catholics both: faith and good works.
64
(This
opposition between denominations, to be sure, is a bit stereotypical.) The second position is
endorsed by the many secular and philosophical readers of Paul, such as Hobbes, Spinoza,
Locke, Friedrich Engels, Jacques Derrida and the liberation theologians. They all stress Paul’s
concern for justice, as Jennings (2013: 2-8) observes. As to the circumcision metaphor itself,
contextual elements and redundancies make the ethical reading of it more plausible, although
it has mostly been obscured by theologians. Last but not least, circumcision of the heart and
the notion of the ‘inner Jew’ both point towards an inner Torah, by reason of the emblematic
meaning they are endowed with by Paul. Hence Jewish law points first and foremost towards
justice and ethical behaviour, as Jennings (2013) has convincingly expounded. However, in the
light of the fact that law tends to legalism and religious law to legal fetishism, Paul wanted to
free the original Jewish law from all aspects which might hinder the spontaneous solidarity and
reciprocal loving kindness within his Christian community. Jennings calls it “spirited
solidarity” and “improvisation of justice” (Jennings 2013: 12).
65
The fact that Paul uses Jewish
law as a metaphor (circumcision being a metonymy for it) shows that, whilst rejecting it, he
endeavours to rescue it in the context of his cross-ethnic outreach.
What are the implications for Pauline exegesis? Can the present metaphorological
investigation shed some light on the ongoing discussion on whether Paul saw Christians as part
of the Jewish people or not? The rootedness of Christianity in Judaism is the core message of
Paul’s highly elaborated parable of the two olive trees (Rom 11). The gentiles are the branches
of a wild olive tree which are grafted now onto a cultivated one. The “roots” of the latter are
“holy” (Rom 11:16) and represent the patriarchs (cf. Windsor 2014: 52). Paul sees Christianity
as partaking of the Jewish historical destiny. Most theologians explain this away by focusing
on the biblical oracles (Rom 3:2), announcing the advent of Christ and a new covenant. In the
light of the passage of Romans studied here, Christianity is firmly rooted in Jewish history.
And like all reformers (Luther, Mohammed) Paul hoped that Jews would one day join the
movement he created (Rom 11: 25-32). But as Windsor, Eisenbaum, Thiessen and others
61
I go along with Boyarin (1994: 112) that for Paul “literal observance was merely irrelevant, being only in the
flesh” and not “a sinful striving for work-righteousness” in the sense of the Lutheran tradition. .
62
According to Dunn (2005, 378) who sees in the Dead Sea Scrolls the original wording of Paul’s “works of Law”.
63
“for you did not receive the Spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption
as sons, by whom we cry ‘Abba, Father’”.
64
See Focant (2011, 51) who, from a Catholic viewpoint, stresses that both faith and ethics are important to Paul.
65
Jennings (2013: 54) goes even farther, asserting that Paul did not even care about the Christian community as
such: “(…) there is no need to become in any way a Christian in order to become faithful of the messiah.”
25
observe, Paul in no way endeavoured to redefine ancient Jewish morality.
66
What we have seen
so far in this investigation, then, is that Paul was a Jewish reformer with a cross-ethnic outreach.
However, he was also – and even above all – the propagator of a new faith.
8 The target domain and the emergence of metaphysics
8.1 Inner and outer
The notions of ‘spirit’, ‘inwardness’ and ‘heart’ are part of a cognitive space, that is, in
cognitive linguistic terminology, the target domain of Paul’s metaphor. In its literal sense
circumcision is outward and not inward, physical and not spiritual, effected on the penis and
not on the heart. The referents of these three notions, though they do not form a conceptual
unity, make up the space wherein the source cognitive model (‘circumcision’) develops its
metaphorical meaning.
Boyarin (1994: 78) rightly observes that Romans 2: 28-29 establishes a threefold set of
interrelated binary oppositions (1) ‘outer’ versus ‘inner’, (2) ‘in the flesh (penis)’ versus ‘in the
heart’, (3) ‘in the letter’ versus ‘in the spirit’. Correspondingly the source domain is the whole
material world. According to Boyarin this set of oppositions, particularly between the ‘inner’
and the ‘outer’ world, reveals a dualistic philosophy. Boyarin’s dualism has been criticised by
Barclay (1998). The debate is otiose, since the issue of monism versus dualism can only be
settled within a philosophical discourse debating the metaphysical question whether the soul is
a substance. In Hebrew scriptures, however, the notion of ‘substance’ (Greek: hypokeimenon)
is absent. One thing remains certain: if Paul was not a dualist, his rhetoric is unquestioningly
dyadic.
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Paul’s language points towards dualism. His circumcision metaphor presupposes a
concept of inner space. The same holds for his saying: “Do you not know that you are God’s
temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” (1Cor 3:16; see also 1Thess 4: 8)).
Paul turns inwardness into the locus of salvation, into the space of the soteriological process.
Only metaphor has the power to effect such a venture into new dimensions of being,
particularly within non-philosophical speech. Metaphor is not an ornament of speech, certainly
not in Paul. It leads us very close to metaphysics.
8.2. The breakthrough of metaphysics
The intrusion of metaphysics in Paul’s discourse is clearly to be traced on a textual level. Paul
follows Jewish law, while simplifying it and abrogating its ritual components. At one point,
however, he adds something, and this addition is highly surprising: according to Paul, sexual
immorality (porneia) would be unfaithfulness towards the indwelling spirit of Christ (1Cor 6:
13-18). Paul therefore advises to refrain from sex, or, in the worst case, to stay within a strict
monogamous relationship.
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Jesus is seen as the partner of the faithful person in a physical
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This reveals an ambivalent attitude that was also typical for Reform Judaism in the 19th Century. It wrestled
with problems similar to Paul’s. In the context of Jewish emancipation the question arose how to remain a faithful
Jew whilst joining the gentile social tissue. Rabbi Samuel Holdheim (1806-1860), one of the great thinkers of that
movement, endeavoured to extract the ethical core out of Jewish Law (halakha). He revealingly used a rhetoric
very similar to Paul’s, deliteralising and metaphorising canonical notions using the adjective “true” (“true offering
is …”, “true fast is …” etc.). It is no accident that his opponent Heinrich Graetz (1870, 565) goes so far as to say
that “since Paul of Tarsus, Judaism has never known such an enemy from within” as Holdheim. On the other
hand, Holdheim never redefined Orthodox Judaism, neither did he define Reform Judaism in such a way that
orthodox Jews would be excluded from it. To this day Reform Judaism welcomes Orthodox people (On Samuel
Holdheim see Bisschops 1999 and 2007).
67
Personally I think that Paul’s dualism is clearly attested in 2. Cor 5: 1-10.
68
Sanders (1977: 455) extensively discusses the radical novelty and strangeness of this vision: “We might expect
an argument that a Christian should not behave in such and such a way, since immorality is not appropriate to
being Christian, since it is forbidden in the Bible or since such a transgression would result in punishment from
26
sense. We are presented with a variation of the biblical metaphor GOD IS THE HUSBAND OF HIS
PEOPLE, all-pervasive in the prophetic writings, with the difference that the prophets clearly
understood it as a metaphor while in Paul it is a naked, physical fact.
8.3 Re-framing holiness
Until now we have been studying circumcision in its connection to Jewish identity and law-
abidingness. However, there are other cognitive frames (or ‘models’, to use an alternative term)
of Jewish practices that contain circumcision as an element. Circumcision is also a prerequisite
for eating the Passover lamb. This Jewish ritual still existed in Paul’s time (it was abandoned
after the destruction of the Temple). Paul however says in Corinthians (1Cor 5:7-8):
Purge out therefore the old leaven, that ye may be a new lump, as ye are unleavened.
For even Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us: Therefore let us keep the feast, not
with old leaven, neither with the leaven of malice and wickedness; but with the
unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.
We have already seen that circumcision is first and foremost the prerequisite to eat from the
Pascal Lamb. The fact that Jesus is seen as the ‘true’ and ultimate appearance of the Passover
lamb and ‘true’ circumcision is that of the heart, presents us with a radical re-framing of the
Passover-ritual. In Paul’s view the holiness of the Pascal lamb (which in the Hebrew Bible is
regarded as a “holy”, i.e. as a consecrated meal) is reflected in the holiness of Christ. Finally,
the evildoers, seen as leaven, should be separated from the dough, which is the community of
the faithful. This is an unmistakable allusion to the prohibition of eating leavened foods during
the Passover-week. If we leave the immediate contexts in which these new clusters of meaning
appear (the Passover motifs in Corinthians and the circumcision motif in Romans), and adopt
an overarching view, Paul’s heart circumcision appears to be an element of the re-framed
Passover frame and denotes the (inward) disposition necessary to approach Christ, who in this
new frame is the centre of holiness. Taking part in the Eucharist symbolically supersedes the
Passover-meal. Was Paul aware that he seamlessly replaced all frame-elements of the old
sacrificial cult by new ones? We will never know. However, within a frame-based (or even
structuralist) approach it would make sense to say that Paul’s heart circumcision has a greater
degree of sanctity than physical circumcision, because Christ, as the corresponding frame-
element, is infinitely superior in holiness (see 2Cor 3: 11) than the consecrated Passover lamb.
The above analysis can only be tentative. It opens up, however, the possibility of finding a
strong religious motivation for Paul’s dismissal of genital circumcision. Advocating the
circumcision of the heart Paul re-frames the ancient rite in a Christological sense.
11. General conclusions
The results of the present investigation come close to the statement made by Lakoff and
Johnson in Philosophy in the Flesh (1999: 7): “metaphorical thought is the principal tool that
makes philosophical insight possible.” I would like to emphasise the point that metaphor does
not only shape pre-existing notions. It is also a fundamental process of the human mind that
can create new targets and thus new metaphysical concepts. The mechanism by means of which
a new notion emerges can be described as follows: Some metaphors imply an existential
statement (formulated in logic by the proposition ‘there is/are …’). ‘Circumcise your heart’
implies the statement that there is (or must be) such a process as “inner circumcision”. This
God; but to say that one should not fornicate because fornication produces a union which excludes one from a
union which is salvific is to employ a rationale which today is not readily understood.”
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new conceptual entity (i. e. the process of inner circumcision), presupposed (I would even say
“created”) by the metaphor, is like an empty screen upon which source elements are projected.
As to the projection process, it is dependent on (a) contextual elements, and (b) the
emblematic (metonymic) meaning of the source. In the case of the circumcision metaphor in
Deuteronomy, Jeremiah and Philo, the source-element of ‘cutting away’ is foregrounded and
projected upon the target (i. e. the ‘inner’ circumcision). The metaphor expresses the injunction
to extirpate rebellious (idolatrous) tendencies from the mind. Since the source (genital
circumcision) is not abrogated by the Hebrew metaphor, circumcision of the heart represents a
duty-extension, not a shift.
In Paul’s case the circumcision metaphor takes on a fundamentally different meaning. Paul
abrogates circumcision (at least for gentiles), and hence his metaphor represents a duty-shift.
Given his opposition to genital circumcision, it is highly unlikely that Paul wanted the source
element of ‘cutting’ to be projected upon the target. Paul’s identification of circumcision with
Jewishness, which has an emblematic character, and the context in which the metaphor appears,
strongly suggest that he wants circumcision of the heart to be understood as a transformation
of the notion of the Torah. In this way the Torah, which, within Paul’s cross-ethnical outreach,
can no longer be followed in its present articulation, is transformed and thereby ‘rescued’ into
an inward ethical disposition. The inward metaphorical ‘space’, which Paul metaphorically
defines as ’God’s temple”, receives a distinction which it did not yet possess in Jewish and
Greek antiquity: it becomes the locus by excellence where salvation is achieved. The ensuing
centrality of inwardness will profoundly mark the Western conception of the self.
12. Postscript
Only deeply rooted rituals can be used as a starting point towards internalisation. Without
physical circumcision as a cognitive source model Paul would never have opened up the inner
dimension of devotion. Ritual and the interior life are “interconnected” (Cavallin 2013: 13).
We are living in a time marked by deritualisation, the valuation of interior life, moral feelings,
good intentions and authenticity. Yet, the individual’s self, constituted by a long historical
process of internalisation, has become diffuse (Cavallin 2013, 97). In religious studies the
pendulum is swinging to the other extreme point. Since a couple of years we are witnessing a
growing scholarly interest for material objects and rituals in religious practice: relics, incense,
devotional art, liturgical music, devotional medals (Seland, 2007) etc. which may be seen as
“the material or physical and expressive aspects of religion" being “essential to our religious
experience" (Laugerud and Skinnebach 2007: 10). These approaches might open new and
complementary avenues of investigation.
28
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