THE OLD TESTAMENT narrative is a broad, sweeping story that spans centuries. Even the book of Genesis by itself extends across multiple generations, from the story of creation, to Noah, to the origin of God’s people in Abraham and his descendants; the narrative ends with Joseph, Abraham’s great-grandson. Naturally, not every detail of that history can be told. There are significant gaps in the story.

Think, for example, of how quickly the story of Abraham moves from one chapter to the next. He first meets God in chapter 12, and is given the promise of both land and descendants. He’s 75 years old and childless at the time, and his name is still Abram. Four chapters and eleven years later, the son God promised still hasn’t been born yet. Sarah (whose name is still Sarai) therefore concocts a plan for Abram to have a son through her maid Hagar, and in chapter 16, Ishmael is born. But this was not God’s plan, and Ishmael is not the promised son. Isaac is, and he won’t be born until chapter 21, when Abraham is a full 100 years old.

Meanwhile, between the last verse of chapter 16 and the first verse of chapter 17, thirteen years of history vanish. Abram is now 99 years old, God reiterates his covenant promise, and changes his name to Abraham.

This time, however, God adds a new condition to the covenant: every male in Abraham’s household, from an eight-day-old infant to an adult slave, is to be circumcised. It’s an ordinance to be observed down through the generations. By this time, Ishmael is thirteen.

I’m guessing he wasn’t fond of the idea.

From that time onward, circumcision, like Sabbath observance, became one of the key outward distinctions between Jews and Gentiles. Paul himself, before he met the risen Jesus, took pride in having been circumcised at eight days old, as required in the covenant of circumcision God made with Abraham (Phil 3:5; Gen 17:12).

But Paul was painfully aware of the fact that despite his impeccable résumé as a Jew he had not recognized Jesus as the Messiah and had therefore persecuted the church. He knew better than anyone how outward acts of religious piety like circumcision were no substitute for true faithfulness. That’s why he was able to write these words in his letter to the Romans:

Circumcision has value if you observe the law, but if you break the law, you have become as though you had not been circumcised. So then, if those who are not circumcised keep the law’s requirements, will they not be regarded as though they were circumcised? … A person is not a Jew who is one only outwardly, nor is circumcision merely outward and physical. No, a person is a Jew who is one inwardly; and circumcision is circumcision of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the written code. Such a person’s praise is not from other people, but from God. (Rom 2:25-26, 28-29, NIV)

He’s not saying that it’s wrong to be circumcised; he’s saying that a mere surgical procedure isn’t what makes you one of God’s people. The circumcision that truly matters isn’t performed on the body by a father or a priest; it’s performed on the heart by the Holy Spirit. Put differently, if a bit crassly: God wants hearts, not foreskins.

This isn’t a theological innovation on Paul’s part. The idea of a “circumcision of the heart” goes all the way back to the time of Moses. “Circumcise your hearts, therefore,” Moses tells the people, “and do not be stiff-necked any longer” (Deut 10:16). A person with a circumcised heart isn’t rebellious and stubborn, but submits to God. Even God himself, through the prophet Jeremiah, warns his people to turn back to him using similar language:

Circumcise yourselves to the LORD,
    circumcise your hearts,
    you people of Judah and inhabitants of Jerusalem,
or my wrath will flare up and burn like fire
    because of the evil you have done—
    burn with no one to quench it. (Jer 4:4)

But you may already know the story: the people didn’t listen and disaster fell upon the kingdom of Judah. The Babylonians swept down upon them, destroyed the temple, and carried the people off into exile — even the ones who had been physically circumcised as babies. Why? Because their hearts were still uncircumcised; they were still in rebellion against God.

All of this, I believe, is the background to what Paul says next in his letter to the Colossians. In Paul’s time, circumcision was taken for granted as a distinction between Jews and Gentiles, so much so that in Romans, Paul literally refers to the Gentiles as “the uncircumcision.” Thus, it may seem a bit surprising for him to tell the Gentile converts in Colossae that they’ve already been circumcised in Christ:

In him you were also circumcised with a circumcision not performed by human hands. Your whole self ruled by the flesh was put off when you were circumcised by Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through your faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead. (Col 2:11-12)

Paul, obviously, is not referring to literal circumcision, one performed by hand; the circumcision is metaphorical. But it’s an odd metaphor to use it a letter written to Gentiles. Why does he do so?

Although there’s no way to be sure, it would make sense for Paul to do this if part of the false philosophy the Colossians were hearing included elements of Jewish belief. This isn’t the simpler kind of pressure that Jewish Christians were putting on Gentile converts elsewhere to be circumcised, as if circumcision would complete their requirements for entry into the family of God. It may have been a more amorphous and complicated set of beliefs and practices, perhaps some kind of mashup of Jewish mysticism and pagan philosophy.

And if this was indeed what was happening in Colossae, then Paul’s message is, You don’t need to be circumcised. Don’t let anyone try to convince you of that. You’ve already been circumcised in Christ, and the circumcision you’ve received is far better than anything that can be done with human hands.

But what exactly is he referring to? Let’s take a closer look in the next post.