Ephesians 5:15-20 Commentary

Does any subtle difference exist in tone and meaning between a summons to “Be careful” and “Be very careful”? There may be an added urgency that comes through with the addition of the adjective “very.” When, for example, my wife drives home alone from caring for our grandchildren, I always try to ask her to “Be careful” as she makes the 70 minute journey home. It’s an expression of my loving longing for her to do as much as she can to keep herself safe on the drive.

But a while ago, my wife drove home through a fairly severe thunderstorm. So I pleaded with her to “Be very careful” on her trip home. I was, after all, concerned that a combination of severe weather and other drivers’ recklessness in it might make her drive more dangerous than usual. So my plea contained at least a subtle note of urgency.

In Ephesians 5:15 Paul doesn’t call Ephesus’ Christians to just “be careful [Blepete]*. He, in fact, summons them to be “very careful [Blepete akribos]”. We might paraphrase the apostle as saying something like “Be carefully careful,” or “Be extra careful.” Blepete and akribos have, after all, similar English meanings.

Paul summons the Christians in Ephesus to be extra careful in how they peripateite. Yet while both the NIV and NRSV versions translate that verb as “live,” it more literally means to “walk.” So it’s as if the apostle summons Jesus’ followers to “walk extra carefully.” After all, while the root peripateo can refer to the physical act of walking, the New Testament also sometimes uses it as a metaphor for the life of faith (i.e. Eph. 2:2, 2:10 et al). To faithfully respond to God’s grace is, in many ways, to follow Jesus on the road of loving God above all and unconditionally loving our neighbor as much as we love ourselves.

So what might Paul mean when he calls his adopted siblings in Christ to follow Jesus extra carefully? It’s perhaps a warning that there are many dangers on the road of discipleship. The evil one and his allies “line” that road in order to constantly harass, attack and tempt Jesus’ followers. In fact, even Christians’ own naturally sinful nature entices us to turn away from following Jesus in order to pursue, instead, things like our self-interest.

Paul, in fact, reminds God’s dearly beloved people that “the days [hemerai] are evil [ponerai]” (16). Whatever else that mysterious phrase may mean, it strongly implies that already shortly after Jesus’ ascension to the heavenly realm it was becoming increasingly difficult and even dangerous for Jesus’ adopted siblings to faithfully follow him.

While many of God’s people are aware of the persecution that some of our Christian brothers and sisters regularly endure, we forget at our own peril that many perhaps subtler evils face nearly all 21st century Christians. Materialism and the lust for power are among the most insidious threats to our following Jesus. So this Sunday’s Epistolary Lesson summons us to pay close attention to Paul’s call to be “extra careful” in that walk.

The apostle writes that God’s adopted children do that by, among other things, “making the most [exagorazomenio] of every opportunity [ton kairon].” It’s an interesting Greek phrase that literally means “redeeming the time.” “Redemption,” of course, is one of the terms the Scriptures use to refer to God’s salvation of God’s people.

But more generally exagorazomenio refers to some kind of rescue from loss. That suggests that Paul is implying that the times in which Ephesus’ Christians lived were so evil that they needed Jesus’ followers to somehow rescue those times. The apostle summons Christians to make good use of the time God gives us so that we may, by the power of the Holy Spirit, help conform the times to the goals and values of God’s kingdom.

Jesus’ followers do that, says the apostle in verse 17, by not being “foolish [aphrones], but “understanding [syniete] what the Lord’s will [thelema tou Kyriou] is.” The Message paraphrases this summons as, “Don’t live carelessly, unthinkingly. Make sure you understand what the Master wants.”

That paraphrase recognizes that neither the biblical sense of foolishness nor wisdom are related to IQ. Both are, instead, a way of looking and living in the world. Foolish people don’t exercise what we sometimes call common sense. They, what’s more, ignore God’s will and purposes for their lives. Wise people, by contrast, live thoughtfully. We don’t just pay attention to the way things work in the world. Wise people also pay close attention to and, in fact, structure our lives around God’s will, plans and goals.

Paul includes in his description of wise living what we sometimes call haustafeln. Those guidelines for living in community include two broad categories, one of which is, by the Spirit, more readily understandable than the other. In verse 18 the apostle summons God’s adopted sons and daughters not to “get drunk [methyskesthe] on wine [oino], which leads to debauchery [asotia]. Instead be filled [plerousthe] with the Spirit.”

Here Paul rejects one kind of “filling” and encourages another. “Don’t become filled with wine,” he basically says, “because it easily leads to wastefulness.” This may be a subtle reference to verse 17’s “make the most of every opportunity.” Drunkenness wastes the kind of time that needs Christians’ full and wise use of it. Inebriation can hinder Jesus’ followers’ best use of the times that are evil.

Is there also in verse 18 a subtle reference to the “walk” that is the life of faith that is following Jesus? After all, few things can make the act of walking more difficult and potentially dangerous than intoxication. What’s more, among other things, drunkenness can lower inhibitions that the Spirit uses to keep Jesus’ friends on a path of Christian discipleship.

Instead, says the apostle, “let the Holy Spirit fill you so that you may remain faithful in following Jesus.” It’s a summons to let the Spirit help Christians make the most of every opportunity. It’s also Paul’s invitation to his readers to let the Spirit graciously help us to live wisely rather than foolishly, and to live in ways that are consistent with God’s good and perfect will.

Paul’s second guideline has some slightly mysterious elements. “Speak [lalountes] to each other with songs [psalmois], hymns [hymnois] and spiritual songs [odais pneumatkais],” he writes in verses 19-20. “Sing [adontes] and make music [psallontes] in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks [eucharistountes] to God the Father for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

A couple of things are fairly obvious somewhat quickly about this haustafel. Singing and making music, especially that which expresses our gratitude to God, have a prominent place in very carefully following Jesus. Those who would live not foolishly but wisely recognize the important place expressing our faith with music and in song plays in our walk with Christ.

Such music making has both a public and private aspect. Sometimes Jesus’ friends speak to our brothers and sisters in Christ with various Christian songs. Yet there are also other times when Jesus’ friends sing and make music to the Lord in our hearts.

When we also notice the Lord’s Supper (eucharistountes) overtones, it’s hard to ignore verses 19 and 20’s liturgical sense. Among other things, it may be Paul’s subtle reminder that corporate worship plays a vital role in the Christian life of following Jesus.

But there’s also some mystery in these verses. How and why do God’s dearly beloved people speak to each other with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs? How do we “speak” that which is ordinarily sung? Scholars suggest that lalountes (“speaking”) is an obsolete verb. It may, in fact, mean little more than communicating words, in this case the words of the songs that Paul commends.

However, don’t we generally think of Christians singing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs to God rather than people? Of course, God is the primary recipient of our songs, hymns and spiritual songs. But we sometimes sing these songs, in a way, to each other. Jesus’ followers know the power with which the Holy Spirit infuses Christian songs, especially to encourage and strengthen each other as we together very carefully follow Jesus.

*I have here and elsewhere added in brackets the Greek words for the English words the NIV translation uses.

Illustration

In a 2003 article in The Christian Century entitled “Sunday Morning with the Sensational Nightingales,” Billy Collins writes about the power of making music to the Lord: “It was not the Five Mississippi Blind Boys who lifted me off the ground that Sunday morning as I drove down for the paper, some oranges, and bread. Nor was it the Dixie Hummingbirds or the Soul Stirrers, despite their quickening name, or even the Swan Silvertones who inspired me to look over the commotion of trees into the open vault of the sky.

“No, it was the Sensational Nightingales who happened to be singing on the gospel station early that Sunday morning and must be credited with the bumping up of my spirit, the arousal of the mice within. I have always loved this harmony, like four, sometimes five trains running side by side over a contoured landscape– make that a shimmering, red-dirt landscape, wildflowers growing along the silver tracks, lace tablecloths covering the hills, the men and women in white shirts and dresses walking in the direction of a tall steeple. Sunday morning in a perfect Georgia.

“But I am not here to describe the sound of the falsetto whine, sepulchral bass, alto and tenor fitted snugly in between; only to witness my own minor ascension that morning as they sang, so parallel, about the usual themes, the garden of suffering, the beads of blood on the forehead, the stone before the hillside tomb, and the ancient rolling waters we would all have to cross some day.

“‘God bless the Sensational Nightingales,’ I thought as I turned up the volume, ‘God bless their families and their powder blue suits. They are a far cry from the quiet kneeling I was raised with, a far, hand-clapping cry from the candles that glowed in the alcoves and the fixed eyes of saints staring down from their corners.’

“Oh, my cap was on straight that Sunday morning. And I was fine keeping the car on the road. No one would ever have guessed I was being lifted into the air by nightingales, hoisted by their beaks like a long banner that curls across an empty blue sky, caught up in the annunciation of these high, most encouraging tidings.”