The famous passage about Christ in Philippians 2:6-11 is usually described as a “hymn,” and is usually taken to celebrate the inverted parabola of Christ’s descent from heaven, his incarnation as man, the nadir of his death on the cross, followed by his return to heaven and exaltation to a position equal to or perhaps higher than the one he left.
The phrase “being in the form of God” is understood to be a reference to his pre-existent divinity, though scholars disagree wildly over how exactly en morphē theou would express that idea. Perhaps the commonest views would be that morphē somehow refers either to the inner nature of God or to his glory.
Christ then made the decision not to exploit his pre-existent status—not to hold on to the equality with God that he had by virtue of being in the form of God. Instead, he emptied himself of at least some part of his divinity and became incarnate as a man. At the lowest point of his cosmic journey, he was crucified, as though of no more value than a slave.
God, however, raised him from the dead, and restored him to his former heavenly position and status. The “name” given to him has been variously interpreted (Lord? God?), but there is general agreement that Jesus now receives the worship to which only YHWH was entitled according to Isaiah:
Turn to me and be saved, all the ends of the earth! For I am God, and there is no other. By myself I have sworn; from my mouth has gone out in righteousness a word that shall not return: “To me every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear allegiance.” (Is. 45:22–23)
The christological cosmograph
In a Journal of Biblical Literature article discussing the origins of the descent-ascent motif, J. A. Sanders uses the term “cosmograph” for the descent and ascent of the gnostic Anthropos, which he thinks partly accounts for the narrative shape of the Christ hymn.1 The gnostic theme, however, does not explain the change of status from pre-existent divine person to humiliated human person, so Sanders suggests that the author also drew on Jewish stories of rebellious angels or “sons of heaven,” who did not humble themselves and, therefore, were cast down from heaven to earth.
So what we have is a “mythic amalgam,” according to which Jesus is the heavenly Anthropos or Man of Gnosticism, in the form of God, whose descent from heaven was not like that of the rebellious angels or Satan, and who was therefore elevated to a position of supreme authority in the divine council.
That’s just one of many attempts to explain the opening of the drama. I mention it because I like the word “cosmograph,” which captures rather nicely the most popular understanding of the course that the drama takes. There are some exceptions—notably the argument that the story begins with an Adam christology. But I think that there’s only one way to make sense of the phrase en morphē theou hyparchōn—“being in the form of a god.”
The flat story about Jesus
One of the leading claims I make in In the Form of a God: The Pre-existence of the Exalted Christ in Paul is that en morphē theou is not a reference to Christ’s pre-existence, which means that there is no descent from heaven in verses 6-8. But I have also come to think—though this was mostly outside the scope of the book—that there is no ascent in verses 9-11 either.
What the encomium celebrates and explains is not an ontological journey from divine to human to divine, from heaven to earth and back to heaven, but dramatic shifts in Jesus’ reputation. I’ll list the main reasons briefly.
- Being en morphē theou is a coherent notion only against a pagan background because it must denote outward appearance. It encapsulates the idea that to the pagan mind the wonder-working, wisdom-speaking Jesus would have appeared “in the form of a god,” in outward appearance as divine or perhaps as a “divine man.”
- The idiomatic expression “did not reckon being equal to a god a thing to be seized” alludes to the fortuitous opportunity presented to him by Satan in the wilderness, and perhaps on other occasions during his career, to accede to a god-equal rule over the nations of the Greek-Roman world (cf. Matt. 4:8-9; Lk. 4:5-7). Jesus did not seize that opportunity.
- On the contrary, he spent forty days in the wilderness emptying himself of the “selfish ambition” (eritheia) and vanity (kenodoxia) that characterise human behaviour generally and the behaviour of the Philippians in particular (Phil. 2:3). Philo says that Moses led his people “from the harmful customs of the cities into the wilderness [for forty years!] that he might empty (kenōsei) their souls of unrighteous deeds” (Decalogue 13).
- Jesus initially, therefore, would have appeared to pagan onlookers as a person of godlike form, but he made the perverse decision not to seize the opportunity presented to him, and in the end he turned out to be no more than mortal—in fact, in some ways, less than human, a slave. When the king Herod gave an oration to the people of Tyre and Sidon, they declared impetuously, “The voice of a god, and not of a man!” In Jesus’ case, the acclamation would have been reversed: “The form of a slave, and not of a god!”
- Nothing is said about resurrection or ascension into heaven in verse 9-11, only that God “highly exalted” Jesus and bestowed on him “the name beyond every name.” The verb hyperypsoō is uncommon. It is used in the Septuagint for the exaltation (hyperypsōthēs) of God above all the gods (Ps. 96:9; cf. Dan. 3:52-90 LXX). More relevantly, it is used for the “highly exalted” (hyperypsoumenon) impious person, who is raised up like the cedars of Lebanon, but then is no more (Ps. 36:35-36 LXX). The exaltation of Jesus is not a reference to his transference to heaven—though this point is not denied—but to a startling transformation in his status and reputation.
- What Jesus has, in the end, is a “name,” and a name is a person’s reputation.
So what the encomium portrays is two dramatic shifts in the perceived status of Jesus with respect to pagan opinion.
He is presented, first, in the language of pagan epiphany, as a person in the form of a god.
He empties himself of the sort of “selfish ambition” that Satan hoped to exploit and appears entirely ungodlike, as a frail and wretched mortal, divested of his former excellence of form.
But in a further transformation, God has highly exalted him and has bestowed on him a name that will resonate loudly across the Greek-Roman world. He will be acclaimed as Lord, and the God of Israel will be glorified. The end envisaged by Isaiah—the overthrow of the pagan gods and the recognition by the nations that there is no god but YHWH—will have been achieved, not directly, but by the agency of Jesus, who became a servant to Israel so that the nations might glorify God (cf. Rom. 16:8-12).
In this reading there is still, in this praise of Christ, descent from high status to abasement and then ascent to an even higher status and a far-reaching reputation as the new Lord of the Gentiles. But ontologically everything is on the same level of appearance and reputation before the onlooking Greeks.
The son sent to the mismanaged vineyard of Israel, who was rejected and killed by his own people, has remarkably become a personage of immense eschatological significance for the nations.
- 1J. A. Sanders, “Dissenting Deities and Philippians 2:1-11,” JBL 88 (1969), 279-90.
Hello Dr. Perriman,
Always look forward to your posts, and I’ve always found the narrative historical hermeneutic to be excellent (with reservations of course) while it factors in both historical criticism and traditional evangelicalism.
I’m wondering whether you think Paul even knew about temptation narrative -let alone anything about Jesus’ ministry- which we find in the synoptics and were written much later. Of course the traditions surrounding the stories may have been floating around, but is there any reason to think that this is what the self-emptying and “refusal to seize” refers to?
And is there a possibility that Paul was merely assimilating Greco-Roman stories and symbols (much like later Christendom) to create a sense of familiarity similar to Acts 17:23, or even assumed such a backdrop himself maybe?
@Gerard Jay:
I’m not aware of any direct evidence that Paul was familiar with the story of the testing in the wilderness. I make the claim largely on the grounds that there is an excellent “fit” between the idiomatic “seizing the opportunity to gain a god-like kingship” expression and the accounts in Matthew and Luke.
There may be ways of filling out the argument though.
Paul knows that Satan “tests” believers (1 Cor. 7:5; 10:13; 1 Thess. 3:5). Does that reflect knowledge of the testing of Jesus?
Mark only says that Jesus was tested by Satan in the wilderness, with no narrative elaboration. Is it possible that the encomium was part of the tradition that subsequently produced the detailed account of three temptations in Matthew and Luke?
Paul knows that God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the Law, to Israel to redeem those under the Law (Gal. 4:4), so you’d expect him to have been a little curious about the circumstances of Jesus’ career as a prophet-messiah. It’s difficult to think that no detail were communicated to him when he visited the apostles in Jerusalem (Gal. 1:18-24).
Peter gives a fairly detailed account of the ministry of Jesus to the Roman Cornelius (Acts 10:34-42). It doesn’t mention the testing by Satan, but it rather presents Jesus to the Gentile as a “divine man,” so we may imagine that it was likely that stories about Jesus circulated among the churches in the Greek world in this way.
And yes, it’s part of the argument of the book that occasionally we get a glimpse of how the Jewish Jesus appeared to the pagan mind. I think it highly likely that the encomium was the work of someone with a pagan background, who instinctively translated the stories about the Son sent to Israel into pagan terms.
@Andrew Perriman:
Thanks for the reply Dr. Perriman.
Yes I certainly agree that it’s highly probable that Paul did get quite a bit of information regarding Jesus from the Jerusalem Apostles. And in terms of building the narrative, this certainly could play an important role. But I’m wondering whether the historical circumstances could be more in alignment with the wider/shared culture more than “potential” events from the life of Jesus.
I haven’t gotten around to reading “In the form of a god” yet, so I’m not sure if you discuss the following (apologies if you have). Larry Hurtado discussed a parallel scenario (link below) to do with the idiom “form of (a) god” in relation to Philo’s criticism of Caligula, and I thought this had quite a bit of potential to be inline with your take on it. Would be interested to know your thoughts.
https://larryhurtado.wordpress.com/2017/04/19/the-form-of-g…
@Gerard Jay:
Thanks, Gerard. I discuss this well-known passage in the book, though I don’t think I’d come across Hurtado’s post before.
The main point is that Caligula dresses up as one or other of the gods in order to look like them. The word morphē, I argue, always refers to external appearance or physical “form”.
I disagree with Hurtado that “form” here also comprises “certain virtues, a way of being, not simply outward/visual appearance.” Philo’s objection is that you can’t emulate a god simply by counterfeiting the outward appearance. You also have to match the inner substance or character or nature.
I also disagree with the attempt to retain the idea of pre-existence. We have to ask what sort of occasion is likely to have elicited the statement that Christ was “in the form of a god,” which can only have evoked the idea either that the gods have appeared on earth or that a human person is godlike in appearance. If it’s the language of pagan epiphany, pagan epiphanies don’t happen in heaven.
@Andrew Perriman:
Hi Andrew,
I posted a few snippets of your statements from your book In the Form of A God that I recently purchased on the One God Report Facebook forum and Rivers O Feden responded to my post with the following:
John Baumberger … I would take issue with the “a god” translation in Philippians 2:6 for a couple reasons:
1. The Genitive (QEOU) and Dative (QEW) without the definite article almost always refers to God himself (and not “a god”) throughout scripture. Thus, it’s unlikely that any exception was intended here or in John 1:1 (where it is Nominative and not Genitive or Dative).
2. Philippians 2:9 also has the definite article for “the God” in the immediate context which just as well corresponds to the same person as the uses in Philippians 2:6.”
As I’m still working through your book, I haven’t yet come across where you have addressed these objections. Josh Jones was supposed to address these objections when he was to meet with you in person (not sure if your meeting ever took place, as we never heard back from him on this).
At any rate, I would greatly appreciate it if you would address these objections.
Thx,
John
@John M Baumberger:
Thanks for this, John. An attempt to answer it here. And no, I don’t think we did get round to this question but talked about a lot of things and had a very nice dinner.
I like this argument. It seems quite reasonable and immediately brings to mind Acts 14:11.
@Peter:
Yes, and Acts 28:6: “They were waiting for him to swell up or suddenly fall down dead. But when they had waited a long time and saw no misfortune come to him, they changed their minds and said that he was a god.”
I think this sort of experience is likely to have been a significant part of the background to the encomium.
It’s perhaps also worth noting that Paul is first mistaken for a god, then Jews arrive from Antioch and Iconium, who turn the crowds against him and stone him, dragging him outside the city and leaving him for dead. He reproduces Jesus’ experience quite closely. He is first taken to be a god, then found to be a mortal human.
I agree totally with this very plausible shift to an status-change vs. ontological,change in Jesus…
It would be good to have a 2nd illustration, to engrave the new interpretation into the mind of the readers :-)
Hello brother Perriman,
Is the name given to Jesus, referring to a personal name?
Thanks,
@cato1006:
I didn’t cover the second half of the encomium in the book, and I don’t have time at the moment to look at this properly. It would certainly be worth coming back to. But for now, I would say that the name is “Jesus Christ,” and the point is not so much that he is given a new name but that the person who is proclaimed to the world by this name will be confessed as Lord by the nations. But that’s off the top of my head.
The interpretation provided reduces Philippians 2:6-11 to a mere commentary on shifts in reputation and cultural perceptions of Jesus, primarily through the lens of a pagan worldview. While the argument is creative, it fails to account for key theological and exegetical elements of the text, especially when considered within the broader context of Pauline Christology and Second Temple Jewish monotheism.
First, the claim that morphē theou refers merely to outward appearance or the perception of Jesus as a “divine man” in a pagan context disregards the deeper theological significance of the term morphē. In the Greek cultural and philosophical lexicon, morphē does not denote superficial form alone but rather the essential characteristics that define the nature of a being. In Philippians 2:6, Paul’s use of morphē theou clearly indicates that Christ possesses the intrinsic attributes of God, aligning Him with the divine nature, not merely an outward appearance. This interpretation is supported by the parallelism in the hymn itself, where morphē doulou refers to the real and substantial nature of Christ’s humanity. Christ’s taking on the “form of a slave” involved a true assumption of human nature, not a superficial or symbolic act.
Second, the notion that Christ “emptied Himself” (ekenōsen heauton) by abandoning His divine nature or status misinterprets the kenosis. The text does not suggest that Christ divested Himself of divinity; instead, it portrays a voluntary self-limitation or veiling of His divine glory. This is consistent with the portrayal of Jesus in the Gospels, where He demonstrates divine authority (e.g., forgiving sins, commanding nature) while submitting to the limitations of human existence. Kenosis, therefore, is an act of humility, not a loss of essence. The language of “not grasping” (ou harpagmon hēgēsato) equality with God indicates that Christ did not exploit His divine prerogatives for selfish advantage but chose to humble Himself in obedience to the Father’s will.
Third, the argument that the hymn lacks any reference to resurrection or ascension fails to recognize the implications of the exaltation language in verses 9-11. The verb hyperypsoō (“highly exalted”) is not merely a commentary on reputation but indicates a decisive act of divine vindication. This exaltation aligns with the broader New Testament narrative of Christ’s resurrection and ascension, where God raises Jesus to the highest position of authority and bestows on Him the divine name (Kyrios), affirming His lordship over all creation. The allusion to Isaiah 45:23 underscores this: the universal acclamation of Jesus as Lord (Kyrios) is a direct participation in the divine sovereignty reserved for YHWH, making it impossible to interpret this as a mere enhancement of reputation.
Fourth, the reliance on a “pagan epiphany” framework diminishes the Jewish theological roots of the hymn. Paul’s Christology is firmly grounded in Jewish monotheism, reinterpreted through the revelation of Jesus Christ. The hymn’s structure reflects this: Christ is not just a “new Lord of the Gentiles” in a cultural sense but the one through whom the God of Israel enacts His eschatological purposes. The exaltation of Christ is not an elevation to a previously unheld divine status but a manifestation of His pre-existent divine identity, vindicated through His obedience and sacrifice.
Finally, the suggestion that Philippians 2:6-11 operates entirely on the level of appearances or reputation does not do justice to the depth of the passage. The hymn is not merely about what pagan onlookers might perceive but about the cosmic implications of Christ’s incarnation, death, and exaltation. It describes not just a shift in reputation but a theological reality in which the self-emptying and subsequent exaltation of Christ reveal the character of God Himself—humble, self-giving love that leads to the glorification of the Son and the Father.
In sum, the interpretation offered reduces Philippians 2:6-11 to a superficial narrative of reputation management, ignoring the profound Christological and theological truths embedded in the text. The hymn celebrates the paradox of divine humility and exaltation, where Christ’s pre-existent divinity, genuine humanity, sacrificial death, and vindicated lordship cohere in a way that transcends mere cultural perception. The ontological realities of Christ’s divine and human natures remain central to the passage and are integral to understanding its message within the context of Paul’s broader theological vision.
@jkghjkl68:
This is a thoughtful and well constructed critique. It would be nice at least to have a name to engage with, even if a false one. It may also be that the commenter has no interest in continuing the conversation, but I’ll outline a response.
1. There is no “deeper theological significance” to the term morphē. The commenter needs to provide evidence that in Hellenistic Greek the word denotes the “essential characteristics that define the nature of a being.” I don’t think such evidence exists. This is actually quite widely recognised in the scholarship.
Philippians 2:6 makes perfectly good sense on the assumption that “form of a god” and “form of a slave” refer to outward appearance. People make judgments on the basis of outward appearance (2:6-8); God makes judgments on the basis of faithfulness (2:9-11).
2. I do not argue that Christ emptied himself by abandoning his divine nature, rather that he emptied himself of the sort of ambition that might have led him to accept Satan’s offer of rule over the kingdoms of the Greek-Roman oikoumenē. The parallel in Decalogue 13 (see above) makes excellent sense in this context. There is nothing superficial about this storyline; it is at the heart of the New Testament.
The argument that self-emptying entails self-limitation or veiling is simply wrong—a flawed attempt to refute a flawed interpretation. Kenoō means to “empty” or by derivation to make void or ineffectual (cf. BDAG). It does not mean to limit or to veil.
To say that “not grasping” means that Christ did not “exploit his divine prerogatives” is incoherent. You grasp or seize what you do not have, not what is already in your possession. The idiom is most naturally used (the evidence is all in the book) in narratives where a person is presented with an opportunity which may or may not be seized at.
3. I agree that “highly exalted” indicates an act of divine vindication, but it does not mean “resurrected” or “lifted up into heaven.” It signifies reputation or status, which is the proper theme of an encomium. The same idea is carried by the reference to a name which is above every name. That is reputational language.
But it is not a “mere enhancement of reputation.” On the one hand, it is a radical transformation of reputation after the humiliation of crucifixion. On the other, the supreme status of Jesus in the ancient world was precisely the object of the Pauline mission.
The authority granted to Jesus is not over all creation but over the nations of the Greek-Roman world. It is the sovereignty that Israel’s king, the ʾadon at the right hand of YHWH, over the kings of the earth. It is political in its scope, not creational.
4. There is no reason why Paul, writing to the Philippians, should not have drawn on Greek perspectives and idioms in order to capture how the story of Jesus would have been heard by Greeks such as the citizens of Lystra, who mistook the apostles for gods. There are excellent Hellenistic and Hellenistic-Jewish parallels to the language of Philippians 2:6-7 that make this a very plausible thesis.
5. The argument that my reading does not do justice to the depth of the passage is an argument from theological tradition, not from exegesis. We are not at all bound to impose the traditional reading on the text—especially when no evidence is provided to show that such an interpretation is merited by the the very distinctive language.
Philippians 2:6-11 is a piece of Hellenistic-Jewish rhetoric in praise of one who would in due course be acclaimed by the nations as Lord, bringing to an end the long age of pagan domination, to the glory of the God of Israel. It is entirely devoid of the language of ontological speculation.
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