There is the traditional Orthodox view of Paul, which
presents him as the architect of Christian theology and church structure. This
Paul is the builder of systems, the defender of doctrine, and the man who
transformed a small Jewish movement into a global religion. In this view, Paul
is harmonized with the Synoptic Gospels, and tensions between Paul and Jesus
are minimized or explained away. While this view gave the church stability, it
also flattened Paul into something manageable and institutional.
There is also the modern critical view, advanced by many
scholars, which argues that Paul fundamentally diverged from Jesus’ message.
This camp believes Paul replaced Jesus’ message of inner transformation with
legal metaphors of justification, sacrifice, and substitution. According to
this view, Paul hijacked the movement and turned a Jewish wisdom teacher into a
cosmic object of worship. I understand this critique, and I believe it contains
real insight. The tension between Jesus’ lived parables and Paul’s legal
arguments is impossible to ignore.
There is also the Jewish reclamation view of Paul, which
sees him as remaining fundamentally Jewish, arguing within Jewish categories,
never intending to start a new religion at all. In this framework, Paul is
viewed as a reformer within Judaism rather than the founder of Christianity.
This perspective helps us understand how deeply shaped Paul was by law,
covenant, and tradition.
All of these perspectives help illuminate aspects of Paul.
But none of them, in my view, fully captures who Paul really was.
What I see in Paul is not a hijacker of Jesus, nor merely a
theologian, nor simply a misunderstood rabbi. I see a man torn open by mystical
encounter. I see two Pauls living within one soul: Paul the rabbi and Paul the
mystic. Before Damascus, Paul was a serious religious intellect trained under
Gamaliel. After Damascus, he became something else entirely — not merely a
convert, but a mystic who had tasted something beyond conceptual religion.
When Paul spoke of being caught up into the “third heaven,”
he was not crafting theology. He was describing mystical rapture. He had
encountered what I would call the Cosmic Christ — not merely Jesus of Nazareth,
but the Logos behind creation itself.
I do not believe Paul simply inherited his gospel from Peter
or the Jerusalem apostles. Paul insisted that his message came by direct
revelation. I take him seriously. I believe Jesus revealed something universal
to Paul because the inner circle of disciples remained tethered to national,
covenantal categories. They thought in terms of Israel and law. Paul began to
see humanity, cosmos, and consciousness.
This is why the Valentinian Christians resonate so deeply
with me. They understood salvation not as legal pardon, but as awakening from
forgetfulness. They understood Christ as revealer, not appeaser. And this is
where I believe Paul truly belongs — not in the later structures of orthodoxy,
but in the mystical stream of early Christianity.
I also believe Thomas, John, and Mary Magdalene were
entrusted with deeper layers of Jesus’ teaching — teachings too destabilizing
for a religion that was slowly moving toward empire and institution. Paul
stands beside them in that inner circle, whether officially recognized or not.
In my understanding, Paul was chosen precisely because he
could not stay inside inherited religious structures. He had to be broken open.
His blindness was not punishment. It was initiation. Only someone
psychologically and spiritually dismantled could receive a universal
revelation. His so-called “different gospel” was not an error. It was the
deeper stream of Jesus’ true mission.
To me, Paul is not the architect of control. He is the
awakener of sleeping souls. Not a lawyer of doctrine, but a mystic of
revelation. Not the master of religious systems, but the revealer of the cosmic
Christ.
This is the Paul I believe we are meant to rediscover.
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