Sunday, September 13, 2026
Father Richard Rohr emphasizes how the teachings of the apostle Paul come from his experience of Christ living in him—and in all reality!
In his letter to the Galatians, Paul describes his encounter with the risen Christ on the road to Damascus. He writes a most telling line: “God revealed his Son in me” (Galatians 1:16). This high degree of inner trust, introspection, and self-confidence was quite unusual during a time that was more extroverted and literal. In my opinion, this is why the first fifteen hundred years of Christianity did not make much of Paul. Except for the rare Augustine and many of the Catholic mystics and hermits, it took widespread literacy and the availability of the written word in the sixteenth century to move believers toward a more interior Christianity, both for good and for ill.
Note Paul’s primary criterion for authentic faith: “Examine yourselves to make sure you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Do you acknowledge that Jesus Christ is really in you? If not, you have failed the test” (2 Corinthians 13:5). So simple it’s scary! Paul’s radical incarnationalism—Christ is present in us and in the cosmos—sets a strong standard. He knew that the Christ must first of all be acknowledged within before Christ can be recognized without.
God must reveal God’s self in you before God can fully reveal God’s self to you.
It’s important to remember that Paul is just like us in never knowing Jesus in the flesh. Like him, we only know the Christ through observing and honoring the depth of our human experience and gaining new eyes. When we can honor and receive our own moment of sadness or fullness as a gracious participation in the eternal sadness or fullness of God, we recognize ourselves as a member of the one universal body of Christ.
Thus, Paul shows that we too can know Christ’s infinitely available presence through our own inner dialogue, or the natural law, which is “engraved on our hearts.” Quite daringly, he declares that even so-called pagans, “who do not possess the law … can be said to be the law” (see Romans 2:14–15). This is surely why he spoke to the well-educated Athenians of “The Unknown God … whom you already worship without knowing it” (Acts 17:23). Paul likely inherited this idea from the “new covenant” to God’s people: “I will place my law within them and write it upon their hearts” (see Jeremiah 31:31–33).
Paul merely took incarnationalism—the divine in material form—to its universal and logical conclusions. We see that in his bold exclamation: “There is only Christ. He is everything and he is in everything” (Colossians 3:11). If I were to write that today, people would call me a pantheist (the universe is God), whereas I am really a panentheist (God lies within all things, but also transcends them), as were both Jesus and Paul.
A Worldly Apostle
Monday, September 14, 2026
Public theologian Rachel Held Evans (1981–2019) describes how Paul used his education and background to spread the good news of Christ:
Paul of Tarsus was a proud Jew, “circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews” (Philippians 3:5). A Pharisee and the son of a Pharisee, he knew and loved the Torah and maintained his Jewish identity in a pagan culture. He was also a Roman citizen and Greek, profoundly influenced by Hellenistic thought. Paul knew at least three languages—Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic—and himself possessed both a Jewish name, Saul, and a Greek and Roman name, Paul.
Originally a persecutor of Christians, Paul experienced a dramatic conversion on the road to Damascus one day, when a blinding light threw him to the ground and a voice from heaven asked, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” (Acts 9:4). Despite their fears, the Christians in Damascus and Jerusalem welcomed Paul into their homes and cared for him until his sight was restored, acts of radical, risky hospitality that undoubtedly shaped Paul’s posture toward others in the years to come. As he came to terms with this divine interruption to his own story, Paul began to understand its place in a larger story, and to preach Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah, whose life, death, and resurrection fulfilled biblical prophecy, in particular Isaiah’s vision that Israel would be “a light for the Gentiles” that would bring “salvation to the ends of the earth” (Isaiah 49:6; Acts 13:47).
This message of good news for all people of all nations became Paul’s obsession. As he traveled the region with other followers of Jesus, sharing the gospel in cities across Asia and Europe, he almost always preached first to the Jews in the synagogues and then to the Gentiles at their marketplaces, academic forums, and homes. He described himself as a “slave to everyone” willing to become “all things to all people … for the sake of the gospel” (1 Corinthians 9:19, 22, 23)….
Unsurprisingly, Paul’s declaration of the good news found special resonance among people of lower classes, and with slaves, widows, and women. In fact, women proved to be a vital force in the ministry of Paul, serving as apostles, teachers, benefactors, and friends.
Paul greets his readers with grace and peace:
Every New Testament letter authored by Paul or in his name begins with “grace and peace to you,” a combination of the Greek word charis (grace) with the Hebrew word shalom (peace), a seemingly mundane turn of phrase packed with rich theological meaning for both groups, pointing them toward mercy, wholeness, justice, and unity.
Yes, Paul did a lot of theologizing. The man never met a metaphor he didn’t like. But every letter he wrote was in service to an inclusive grace-filled gospel that he believed was good news for everyone, Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, man and woman alike.
For Reflection:
Richard Rohr says he is a PanEnthiest. How does being a panenthiest impact any of your understandings?
